BRITISH BULLDOG

Diego Maradonna

He of the infamous

Hand of God

Has been savaged

By his new pet

The hound of God

BETTER TO BE DEAD THAN RED

 

The Liverpool supporters

Singing from the cop

Urge me to join them

On and on they never stop

 

“You’ll never walk alone”

Is the anthem they sing

It’s gone on for years now

With that tinny scouser ring

 

Well, I’m from Blackpool

And of more sober tone

Which is why I say to the cop

That I’d rather walk alone

WHO’S THE WANKER IN THE BLACK?

 

The song of the supporter’s pack

“Who’s the wanker in the black?”

That was the chant

But no longer, for you can’t

Disrespect the referee

For a man such as he

Is to be protected

And respected

And no one must speak ill

Even if forced to swallow the bitter pill

Of un-just officialdom

Which is NOT seldom

No manager may mutter

Query or utter

Discontent in the ref’s direction

For to commit such an indiscretion

Will see them had up before the FA

Where a fine must be paid

And be sentenced to a touchline ban

For insulting the black clad man

But why should they be protected

And forcibly respected

They are a professional group

And well salaried to boot

They no longer officiate

In their amateur state

Low-tech refereeing

A hobby to be fitted in

Attending the scene of their crime

In their spare time

With no remuneration

For their dedication

No “bread and honey”

Just enough for petrol money

If lucky luncheon vouchers maybe

For a cup of tea

And a pie to warm the soul

Before disallowing a perfectly good goal

It was much better then

With those amateur men

And be able to say to their faces

That they were bloody disgraces

I don’t think we have progressed

Now we have professional refs

They now think themselves important

And no longer want to hear the chant

But I still want to sing with the pack

“Who’s the wanker in the black?”

IN OR OUT OF SYNCH

 

If a synchronized swimmer

Were to drown

Would the rest of the team

Also go down?

21st CENTURY NURSERY RHYMES # 290

 

Robin and Richard were two pretty men,

They laid in bed till the clock struck ten;

Then up starts Robin and looks at the sky:

"Oh, sod it Richard, the sun's very high!

Stop sniggering and pull on your knickers

We’re late for training at Twickers”

RAMBLING

I met a guy from the ramblers today

I think his name was John

He was a harmless bloke I suppose

But he just went on and on

WYNNE OR NO

 

Do you know who invented the crossword?

I can't remember his name for the life of me

It’s on the tip of my tongue just out of reach

It’s W something N something E

FOOTBALL

 

There are many differences

Between Rugby and football

Rules, number of players, ball shape

Goal posts, pitch markings, duration

And so on and so forth

It was once said that football

Is a gentleman’s game played by ruffian’s

And Rugby a ruffian’s game played by gentleman

Not quite as true as it used to be

But still not far off the mark

I’ve even heard it said

That Football is played by children

And Rugby by grownups

But for me the difference

Can best be defined in this way

A Footballer spends 90 minutes

Pretending to be injured

While a Rugby player spends 80 minutes

Pretending that he is not

MUMMY’S BOYS

 

I long since came to terms

Since John Barnes set the trend

With footballers wearing gloves

To keep their little pandies warm

I am less understanding

Of players taking to the field

With tights beneath their shorts

But it seems I must accept it

But the line has to be drawn somewhere

And that line was crossed

This very weekend

I was shocked beyond belief

To see a player, take to the field of play

Wearing a muffler about his neck

ALL IN THE GAME

 

Shaven headed barbarians

And tattooed savages

Strut with preening peacocks

In performing their pantomime

While their vengeful tribes

With banners held high

Chant their rhythmic cacophony

Faces distorted with hate

 

On the field of honour

They grapple and kick

They push and pull

They dive and roll

Assault and assail

Connive and cheat

 

In unforgiving onslaughts

They perform for baying hordes

A vile and brutal spectacle

Always referred to

As the beautiful game

HUNTIN’ SHOOTIN’ AND TIPPIN’

There was a craze not long ago

A kind of country pursuit

A sport known as cow tipping

Perpetrated by callow youth

  

Now due to the recession

There is a new craze to report

A rural epidemic, fly tipping

It’s popular but not much of a sport