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Listeners' Fantasies |
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From Ambridge to Limerick - Part Two
by various
 The limerick writers have continued to be busy on the Fantasy Archers topic of . Here's how they've treated two of the bigger stories of the last six months.
David, Ruth, Sophie and Sam
Dear Sophie's too much of a charmer
She's befuddled that innocent farmer
I've got a small hunch
That that alfresco lunch
May be only the start of the drama.
Have you ever watched Fatal Attraction?
Well, I'm getting a pre-cog reaction
Sophie B must be foiled
Before Monty gets boiled
And Ruth puts Dave's neck into traction.
So Sam will be Nanny McFee
Babysitting the poor Brookfield three
With the slightest of luck
They will run quite amok
And show him true life en famille.
As Sophie's endearments came thicker,
Poor David felt sicker and sicker.
The scales fell from his eyes,
And he said with surprise,
"Hold on, you're our old lady vicar!"
It's the city of spires, I've heard tell
Where Sam's booked at some sleazy hotel
But despite our worst fears
Just remember, my dears,
It's the home of lost causes as well
We don't want to be misconstrued
So spare us from Ruth being lewd
As she drives the M40
With thoughts somewhat naughty
We'll be offering prayers to St Jude*
(*the patron saint of lost causes)
Poor Ruth and sad Dave the Farmer
They're yearning for days so much calmer
Mistakes and trangressions
Mean that Ruth's confessions
leave David still aching to harm her.
Dave's meanness is rather appalling
It sends poor Ruth endlessly bawling
For Bert's send-off rites
Jill's sending invites
How soon before Sam comes a-calling?
A herdsman named Martin I know,
Who makes it a point to lie low,
"If I should start speaking,
Then I've got a sneaking
Suspicion I'll get the heave-ho."
Ruth insisted that she be transferred
To the work that she's always preferred
Now unchained from the pooter
She can stick in her hooter
And at last she can make her voice heard
Now David has found a new lassie
Who he thinks is really quite sassy
The love of his life
Is no longer his wife
But a Massey with '64 chassis
"That old tractor, a bit of a heap?
I warn you, the price will be steep!"
But David still bid
Nearly two thousand quid;
To escape from Ruth's moans, that sounds cheap!
Though a hobby can often improve us,
If pursued without too much undue fuss,
Dave mechanical toy
Is distracting the boy,
So that Ruth is neglected, not Rufus.
Christopher and Venetia
The moment cannot come too soon
Enter Chris with Venetia, his swoon
It seems he's got off
Not with Hindu but toff
You'd think Mum would be over the moon
Christopher would have been shamed
And his mother he'd surely have blamed
If she'd gone to the ball
At Lower Loxley Hall
But fortunately she refrained.
The First of March - that's the date when
The Pony Club Ball falls, so then
When Neil Carter and wife
Aren't in Borchester Life
It's because of the birthday of Den!
No, the eighty-five quid's not the prob
They would pay that to dine with a nob;
But the raffle's not cheap,
Auction prices are steep,
And the drinks will eat up a few bob:
So, as Neil hasn't got a DJ,
And he'd have to hire one for the day
Susan's suddenly thought
That they certainly ought
To see Den (who?) on Saint David's Day!
Now be sure, Christopher, that you say
Our diary's full for that day.
And do emphasise,
With a roll of your eyes,
That we're anything BUT common clay.
Although Susan shan't go to the ball,
At least her son will ski, after all.
But will Susan's fond hopes
Come to grief on the slopes?
Does her pride precede Christopher's fall?
It's amazing how Christopher copes
As the centre of all Susan's hopes
But is he tempting fate
As he takes his new mate
For a spin down some slippery slopes
How pleasant to know Master C,
Who has everything down to a T.
He has lived the high life
Can hold on to his knife
What a civilised young man is he!
Our thanks to Anglo-Norman, antiquelemonsqueezer, arabellafotheringtonthomas, Bemused of Borchester, BorchesterBaggers, fluffysherpa, KnottedKernel, Mr Legs, Mr Snowy, PennYan, Piers Plowman, Plantation Pig, stillblooming and Vicky S
More limericks:
More
Archers fantasies
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