The Week in Rhyme
by Dick Tator
The week started off with a saddening death
As Mr Hope breathed his last breath
He had a good innings, and a wonderful time
Bad jokes about golfing were his only crime.
The Kelly row's been rumbling on
Another man who's sadly gone
The Beeb and Campbell and Mr Blair
Are blaming everyone, for this whole affair.
The Beeb are claiming they're in the right
But Campbell says they're talking shite
It's starting to look like what he's saying is true
But sorry Alastair, we still don't trust you.
The grey-haired farmer's out the nick
Sad, mistreated and feeling sick
He's already had a load of grief
And now he's being sued by the surviving thief.
The dirty folk camping by his farm
Will surely cause him much alarm
Shooting him from their dented van
And selling the photo to their editor man.
It was Tony's last briefing before going on hols
Flirting with girls who were busting his balls
Dodging the issues in true Labour style
With excuses, distractions and a big cheesy smile.
It's good news at last for the man from Blue Peter
No thanks to some girls and that nasty Ulrika
At first it looked like Leslie was cursed
But now he's wondering who to sue first.
Max Clifford tells Leslie he must play the game
With the dirty old hacks who tarnished his name
Now that they realise their story's a joke
They're going back to the photos of him snorting coke.
Liberia is struggling with hardship and woe
But it's the one place the United States army won't go
Peacekeeping soldiers is all that they need
They need clothes and blankets: they've got children to feed
Bush's response is to sit tight and wait
Ignore all their pleading and leave it to fate
Maybe he thinks it will go off the boil
Or has he got scientists searching for oil?
It's been par for the course for the last seven days
The men at the top are not changing their ways
The future of the world is still looking bleak
Lets hope that things will improve by next week.
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Picture of the Week
by the DeadBrain Paparazzi
Photo: John Leslie feels the effects of his crack
Fenella Clamp Speaks Out!
Britain's best agony aunt airs your agony
by Mark Kingswick
Dear Fenella
My husband suffers from erection-loss and his sex drive is minimal these days, sadly. Not so long ago we would be having sex every ten minutes! Orgasms were plentiful and oral sex an everyday bedroom side order. What should l do? I am very frustrated and my nipples are all limp. My clitoris is a pale shadow.
Mrs Noel Hampton
London UK
Fenella says:
Get divorced. Go find a good shagger. Get it? Either that or kill the bastard! Let me know if you need a hit man. Those husbands can be such rags! Period!
Dear Fenella
I keep crying and I am very unhappy. This is despite having a wonderful husband, a full sex life, wonderful kids, no money worries, great in-laws and neighbors and fantastic holidays. What should l do? Please help me. I am desperate!
Sally Borneo
Washington DC
Fenella says:
Are you crazy? Pull yourself together you stupid whiner! What are you? Mad? If you remain like this l suggest you chuck yourself off the Brooklyn Bridge. Who needs a misery guts like you anyway? Miserable bitch! Period!
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