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Listeners' Fantasies |
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From Ambridge to Limerick - Part Four
by various
 The limerick writers on the Fantasy Archers topic of sum up the last six months, from Tom and Brenda's house hunting to Siobhan's tragedy.
To buy was what Tom & Bren meant,
But finances forced them to rent,
With no 'Houses to Let'
In the village, the bet is
A field, caravan, or a tent.
If you nourish your cows on old neep
That you've bought off the cuff, on the cheap,
Then it will not surprise
That your prime pasturised,
Is causing your customers grief.
If a Grey Gables patron, unwise,
Dons a gas mask, and foolishly tries
The strange "Borsetshire Blue"
He will find that fugu
Is more pleasant by far, ere he dies
If you want your emporium bigger
Then craftily park up a digger
A tweak of the break
Is all it should take
Then stand back and enjoy, but don't snigger.
That Nigel's become a wine-swigger
It's fired him with new vim and vigour
When not even drunk
He's taken a chunk
From his mansion - so lock up your digger
Nigel's wine tasting shouldn't be missed,
By the folk on the Bull's pub quiz lists,
They all will be there,
Tippling more than their share,
Leaving Lil and Ed sober, not p***ed.
A biodegradable wedding?
With confetti made out of old shredding?
Isn't it bad enough
That they charge you the earth
For that wine that the enclave were treading
Will we all cry "Shocking surprise!"
When this ill-fated whey enterprise
Far from cheese making glory
Ends up with a story
Like Sweeney and Lovett's best pies?
What with Helen's indigestible goo,
And Oliver's search for hard blue,
Will this cheese-making trend
Turn out right in the end,
Or something they'll both come to rue?
It's the only name check that he's had
So I'm sorry to hear about Vlad
It's a shame for the chap
But his biking mishap
Was lucky for Debs and her dad.
Eddie's Latin is some tour de force
Whilst Bert stands there proclaiming in Norse
Who will shout "What a hoax!
April Fools are those blokes"
Why it's Freda and Clarrie, of course
The breath of the nation is stopped
As the fruit of the vine is un-topped
Will it scour out their fillings?
Taste just like old shillings
Or something that Monty has 'dropped'?
Adam, like well-armoured knight
Rescued Mummy from her awful plight
Much to Brian's dismay
He whisked Jenny away
Much to his utmost delight
Gather round for a short bedtime story
That involves: A small child name of Ruari
His mum, who is ill
His dad, who's a pill
And dad's wife - and be warned, this is gory
That Brian's one heck of a fellow,
Sees Siobhan and his brain turns to Jello;
Jenny's grinding her teeth,
"This encounter's not brief,
And is hardly a mere peccadillo."
Siobhan, darling, it would be our pleasure
To bring up young Ruairi, the treasure
Our last plan to be dads
Was then scuppered by Madds
But we offer a brogue for good measure
Emma asks herself "Do I deserve this?"
For Ruth and the kids make her nervous;
But David, indeed,
Prefers her to Fred-
a, and says she gives excellent service.
Brian Aldridge is yearning for Dublin,
We know his resolve is a-crumblin'.
With Siobhan sounding weary
He'll be off to Dun Laoghaire,
While around her poor Jenny's world's tumblin'.
Jenny Darling, why won't you believe
I have to have Ruairi. Don't grieve!
If that sister now says
That she'll raise him; no way
She must be like her name, that's naïve
Well alas it just wasn't to be
Eddie failed to take home the trophy
But his topical cries
Won a far better prize
It's the Grundys once more 'en famille'
Worked hard as a man with a shovel
Holed up in that old cider hovel
The lesson's been taught
All effort for naught
He's lost to that fop Larry Lovell!
What a so tender family scene
That 'feeding the ducks on the Green'
Never let it be said
That Brian's tight with his bread
It's his morals with which he is mean.
You never know who you will meet
As you wander through Dublin's fair streets
A rhino, a rotter,
A toddler who's not a
Relation - yet. Thanks for the treat!
Here's your mark sheet; now just rate this cheese
Is it perfect or does it just please?
But if you are thinking
Its bouquet is stinking
We'll be round in a mo capping knees
This cheese oozily squirms from its pack,
Has a crust that appears almost black,
And I'm given grave doubts
By the strong stench of sprouts
And strange taste that just keeps coming back.
Propositioned by Lilian Bellamy
Mike Tucker was frightened as hell'amy
Though her cha-cha's inferior
She's no Mother Superior
So he thought "Damn! I might just as well'amy!"
BA, it seems, simply can't win
Over when to confess to his sin
Should today be the date
To tell Alice, or wait
'Til the A level papers are in?
So tell me, pray, what do you think
When should he tip Alice the wink?
Should he drop her a clue
By repainting in blue
Adam's bedroom (now multi-tone pink)?
Our thanks to antiquelemonsqueezer, KnottedKernal, Miss Sydney, Mr Snowy, PennYan, Piers Plowman and Vicky S
More limericks:
More
Archers fantasies
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