I can’t tell the bottom from the top.
Is it time for me to go to bed and stop?
Oh I do love it when he talks dirty - here’s ya expresso pugs de lug! it only took me three moments too! wasn’t there a song once 'just a moment in time ’ surely that has to be a tautolgy if ever I heard one - 40 moments to love pugs - over to ya fulcrum hunny bun!
fake balls too??
oh he is a little battler ain’t he though - our little battler too!
RJ’s like a poppin jay
pops up here then pops away
perhaps he’ll [no I won’t say that he may not stay]?
I like the way his wheelchair sways!
Nurse gladys cajoles him softly
bellows in his ear
he turns his head so gently
saying "did you cajole me dear?
No no she says so sweetly
I only meant to say
one day you may [No better not say that yet] sway more gentle
and then I’ll push you far away?
© gumbud - of course could there be anything finer,than to be in asiaminor in a kimsong in her bedroom?
Infamy, Infamy (they’ve all got it ) Infamy!
Gummy ouch!
Your references to me are confused.
Sorry not much time to read through Possums. I will be flying home tomorrow.
I have to make up with reading.
Hello shaps, (that’s she’s and chaps mingled together to make it easier than saying females and males)
Some lovely poems there folks, always enjoyable.
It was a lovely sunny day here today, I was listening and singing away to a few old songs as I worked at the bench today, ah the memories.
I have never used the word ‘Groovy’ in me life, even when it was at it’s height of popularity and all the other kids were using it, it just wouldn’t come out of my mouth, same as the word “Tweet” today, it’s strictly for the birds.
I was more inclined to slow down cos I was moving too fast, I really wanted to make the mornings last, I would just kick around on the cobblestones, more or less looking for fun but not feeling “Groovy’ Some mornings I’d say, hello lamppost, what are you knowing? actually I’ve come to watch your beautiful flowers growing, haven’t you got one or two rhymes for me? da di da but never feeling ‘Groovy’.
I’m slightly claustrophobic, don’t like being caught in groves or ruts, I like to be FREE!!!
They say it’s not over till the fat lady sings, and what a great voice this fat lady had, God rest her.
well done Jem your Ubends are coming on fine - as well as your U posts and your U tubes - do you have U bends by any chance or did you lose them all in the Lippy?
yes that poor lady in Mamas and Papas - very sad tale - died a drug addict I believe? -could be wrong but only you Jem have the key to this vast array of knowledge all locked up in ya little garden shed ? groovy man! - gives us a high five!
I’m home Possums.
I am rather poorly though.
Sorry I will catch up tomorrow. X
I’m glad you got home safely Sweetie, I hope your not coming down with a cold, got the sniffles myself, very annoying.
Curiosity killed the Cat, so they say.
Humans are far more curious than cats, and far more humans than cats get killed because of their curiosity, doing silly things like climbing mountains just to see what’s on top of them, pot holing in caves, racing cars at high speeds, and always generally poking their noses in where there’s no need. Also cats don’t care what’s on Mars or how black holes and dark matter work but humans do, so lay off the poor cats and lets put our own house in order first.
Women are more curious than men, I proved this to the wife many years ago after we disagreed on the subject.
To prove it I took an empty shoe box and wrapped it in gift paper complete with coloured ribbon and a little card attached to it, nothing written on it mind you. Next we went into our local pub, I got the drinks in and sat down at a table placing the parcel in the centre of the table, I left it there and the wife and me began to chat away, she was talking about a forthcoming wedding we were going to, and I was talking about the 3.30 at Kempton, all quite normal for us and from a few paces away it looked like we were deep in conversation.
There were about 20 people in the pub of both sexes, all were regulars. After about five minutes Vera the barmaid at the time, came out to wipe the table and empty an ash tray, the table didn’t need wiping and the ash tray was ash free, “I see you’ve been shopping again Phyllis” She says to the wife “Oh not me Vera, that’s Jimmy’s package” Vera hadn’t the nerve to ask me what was in it for I had given her an “I dare you” look.
Next up was our neighbour, old Mrs Flynn “Ah I see we’ve been spending in town again Phyllis, somebody’s birthday?” “I don’t know Mrs Flynn, it’s not my package, it’s Jimmy’s” Mrs Flynn was not put off by a mere look, she looked at me and continued “Is that for your dear old Mam Jimmy?” I looked her straight in the eye and said “No Mrs Flynn, it’s for my little nephew’s birthday, it’s a pet rat I got in Paddy’s Pet Shop, want to have a look?” She did not want to have a look and walked back to the bar. Not one of the men even bothered to look at the brightly coloured parcel on the table, I won my bet with the missus.
Sometimes a man has to go to extremes to prove to a woman that she’s wrong, but it’s worth it in the long run lads, the satisfaction is terrific.
wot drunk on the plane again heh??
Gummy, it is as I expected, you are the cause of most problems. There is a lady on the tele over here who says “Most problems start with your Gums” watch this UTuBE if you don’t believe me.
Spitty, in ten years time.
didn’t see a jackhammer anywhere? - getting too heavy is it?
don’t like the jeans but do like the butt!!
YUK!!! I am glad I am not like that.
I love dr seuss
Stop it! Stop it!
That’s enough, sir.
I can’t say
such silly stuff, sir.
Very well, then
Mr. Knox, sir.
Let’s have a little talk
about tweetle beetles…
What do you know
about tweetle beetles?
well…
When tweetle beetles fight,
it’s called
a tweetle beetle battle.
And when they
battle in a puddle,
it’s a tweetle
beetle puddle battle.
AND when tweetle beetles
battle with paddles in a puddle,
they call it a tweetle
beetle puddle paddle battle.
AND…
When beetles battle beetles
in a puddle paddle battle
and the beetle battle puddle
is a puddle in a bottle…
…they call this
a tweetle beetle
bottle puddle
paddle battle muddle.
AND…
When beetles
fight these battles
in a bottle
with their paddles
and the bottle’s
on a poodle
and the poodle’s
eating noodles…
…they call this
a muddle puddle
tweetle poodle
beetle noodle
bottle paddle battle.
AND…
Now wait
a minute
Mr. Socks Fox!
When a fox is
in the bottle where
the tweetle beetles battle
with their paddles
in a puddle on a
noodle-eating poodle.
THIS is what they call…
…a tweetle beetle
noodle poodle bottles
paddled muddled duddled
fuddled wuddled
fox in socks, sir!
Fox in socks,
our game is done, sir.
Thank you for
a lot of fun, sir
Now from bums to tits, the winged kind that is, no smut here.
I chanced me arm at the bird watching once, didn’t work out though.
The lighter green speckled Tit.
I was sitting on a rock in a field, ears cocked and eyes peeled
Couldn’t open me mouth, the lighter green speckled Tit was about
My only company was a sulking Cow, dejected after having a row
And creamy stuff dripped from it’s mouth, like the froth on a pint of stout.
I’d been there for quite a while when I broke into a rewarding smile
There it was perched on the Cow’s bottom, at last I caught him
Out with the camera and a sharp click, you have to be quick
At last it’s in the can, nice one old man.
I dashed home to show the wife, the idol of me life
“Nearly time for tea?” She was glad to see me.
“You look excited, what is it? did you snap the Tit?
“Yes, but I had to be quick, it was fast and slick”
I opened the camera to take out the film roll, but it dropped into a half filled bowl
Water covered it complete, disaster, utter defeat
I opened it up though all wet and soggy, the film was all blurred and foggy
I couldn’t make out a thing, except for what looked like a spot of green speckled wing.
The boy stood on the burning deck
‘Cos he’d set the ship on fire
The Captain said “What the heck
We’ll blame it on McGuire”
It’s a long story, the McQuire story that is, Mick McQuire was what the Americans call ’The fall guy” and we would call him the dogsbody or the whipping boy. I must tell you about him when I have more time to spare, but I’ve had a long day in the shed and I’m off for a well earned pint or two.
We used to have a jazz band back in the 70’s, we all liked a drink and we called ourselves “The Saturated Seven” We specialised in old time rags, and bones, bottles and old car batteries, anything to get booze money. Then when “The Temperance Seven” broke up, the 60’s jazz craze ended and we just drained away and dried up.