The Week in Rhyme
by Dick Tator
Conference time for Mr Blair
And he had to try and match Gordon's flair
Old-fashioned talk had got them excited
And Blair had issues that had to be righted
"I'm the leader," he proudly announced
And soon the sceptics had all been trounced
An emotional speech, to quell the attack
And silence the critics and talk of Iraq
But the speech itself was not without spin
The delegates got leaflets, on their way in
With instructions on clapping, and stickers that said
"I Love Tony" printed in red
He's got all the faithful, back on his side
But Blunkett is having a bumpier ride
For him this week has not been the best
Because Britain's resembling the Wild Wild West
Blunkett gave a judge the hump
When he talked about the case of the speed bump
Lawlessness reigns on our city streets
We need more Bobbies on the beat
Football's got another big story
And it's not about transfers, goals or glory
Some lads were naughty on a Friday night
But the rumours aren't just black and white
Will they be named in the papers soon?
Was it Gooners or men from the Toon?
Will the case be quickly resolved?
And why the hell is Max Clifford involved?
Arnie's on the campaign trail
But is his bid destined to fail?
Using his fame was his election ploy
But it seems he's been a naughty boy
The spotlight's back on Mr Cook
He's turned his diary into a book
And now he's giving Blair a jolt
To try to start a Labour revolt
Now it's the turn of the Tories to meet
And clutch at some straws to avoid more defeat
Finally Iain might get some attention
But it'll probably be too boring to mention
Ham Pitchmast
Your man of seed!
by Mark Kingswick
Dear Ham
Last night I set light to my bonfire and it quickly
spread to the surrounding area. It burned down
sixteen houses and decimated most of the surrounding
countryside. Do you think I'm covered by my house
insurance?
Colin Vesta
Burnham-on-Sea, UK
Ham says:
Pack your bags and run as fast as you can, my dear
mate! If you stay you could get lynched and hung
drawn and quartered on your own runner bean poles.
There's plenty of gardening to be done at Brixton
Prison, however, and you get free jelly every
Thursday. But no matches! Ha, ha, ha!
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Picture of the Week
by the DeadBrain Paparazzi
Photo: The Premiership rape suspects
Fenella Clamp Speaks Out!
Britain's best agony aunt airs your agony
by Mark Kingswick
Dear Fenella
I am constantly worried that my penis is too small.
My wife often doesn't even realize I have entered her,
and often stays asleep. I measured it last week when I
was in a state of excitement, but I the tape measure
doesn't seem to work. What should I do?
Tony Shortwick
Big Littleon, Northumberland
Fenella says:
So your prick is the size of a match? Good God I am
surprised your wife hasn't chucked you out long ago.
Is she dead or something? Go get yourself a willy
job. Show the surgeon a salami and just say "This
size!" Do you hear me? You itsy bitsy teeny weeny
yellow pile of crap! You're no bloody use to me!
Period.
Dear Fenella
Every time I read your column I am confounded by your
rudeness. You come across as an evil piece of muck –
dogs muck, actually! Are you ware of this fact, you
vile creature from hell?
Lady Mavis Bonham-Farter
Splodge Common, Cornwall
Fenella says:
Dear Lady Farter-Crap or whatever,
Take your comments and stick them up your fat arse! Period.
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