h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

my comment was about greedy politicians stealing eyeballs
and was intended to be against them, I'm not too sure about
yours, it sounds a bit strange. Think I'll leave it for a
while.

Eyeballs, present or not
Are often put on the spot:
I don't think it keen
To never be seen
But worse if you're stared at a lot!

It is said, that's to say it's the word
MP's should be seen and not heard
It's fair, to be frank,
all they say is such w**k
that complete concealement's preferred.

It's not a great sign of urbanity
To speak of MPs with profanity
Religion, Physics --
They're all politics
To knock it is knocking humanity

You imply in the tone of your post
that MPs are human, but most
have battled in vain
to climb the food chain
which makes us the parasites host.

If you're angry with your politicians
For not coming up to your wishin's
Then stand for election
Improve the selection
And get on achieving your missions

So what you're suggesting to me
is that I should become an MP
"if you can't beat them join them"
at least try'n annoy them
to a greater or lesser degree.

I could deal with speaking off of the hip
and watching myself for fear of a slip
Even, I guess, maybe
The kissing of babies
But not the bowing to a three line whip!

Sprout

If I were to run for congress
If interrupted in speech, I'd regress.
And you know what I'd do?
I would pelt them with fruit!
And have then all running for the egress!

Herewith an interlude for some chai, inspired by the thought of "congress," in its more intimate usage.

The Story of Hester.

A professional lady, called Hester,
Scaled the heights by performing fiestas
Of such sweet delights
There were frequently fights
Between her aspiring investors.

Quite a lass for high fashion was Hester
She couldn't abide polyester,
She dressed all in silk.
And her bath? Asses milk,
And promptly at six a siesta.

A trendy young fella met Hester,
And thought that he'd like to molest her.
She said he looked cute
In his Armani suit
And his velvet Versace sou'wester.

A dirty old man cornered Hester.
With hot hairy hands he caressed her
Most intimate places,
Till she made such faces
He reckoned his efforts distressed her.

A doctor, appointed to Hester,
Called her into his rooms, said he'd test her.
The doctor, no saint,
Felt ready to faint
When she said his attentions depressed her.

A hippy gave flowers to Hester
And suggested that she should ingest a
Few tablets of acid.
She found him too placid,
She said," You're a clapped out protester."

A hunky young stud got at Hester,
He reckoned his tackle impressed her,
"I'm hung like a horse!"
She replied, "Yes, of course,
If you think I'm a mare, you're a jester."

A priest fancied fondling Hester,
While he said that her sins were a fester-
ing sore on her soul.
She said, "On the whole
I'd prefer you to bless me." He blessed her.

A couple of cops harassed Hester
And took quite some time to suggest her
Strange sexual feats
Were best kept off the streets
Or else they would have to arrest her.

A very rich man followed Hester,
Then took her back home and undressed her.
So great their delight
As they romped through the night
That she made her retirement nest there.

( And now, back to politics.)

I spent today listening to readings of Lear's limericks. Very odd.

Yes. Lear's Limericks generally seem quite "weak" to modern ears because of his repetition of the first rhyme in the last line. We've come to expect more punch these days. What you miss in the listening is the wonderful drawings with which he illustrated his nonsense verse and stories.
Erm?? Isn't each posting supposed to be a limerick? Oh dear. Thinks fast............

Lear was a Victorian gent
Whose mind, convoluted and bent,
Produced volumes of verse,
Total nonsense, and worse,
He didn't stop even in Lent!

Well, that's not really fair to the divine Mr. Lear. Needs must...etc.

PS. re Hester.

Recalling the epic of Hester
There's one thing one ought to request. Her
Life-history in crime
Should give rise to a rhyme
Where she'd say,"Now p*ss off and don't pester!"

Hester's a game bird I've heard
With a penchant for sex games absurd
the things she can do
with a truncheon or two
are simply sublime, mark my word.

Is Hester in truth to be blamed,
For these sex games which cannot be named?
About truncheons, I'd stress
I would rather know less.
To know more might just make me ashamed.

For Mr. Lear:

There once was a lady named Hester
Who, with ten men, was sequestered.
But when there came to be
Football games on TV
They completely forgot about Hester!

There once was a man from Florence
Whom for bondage, he had an abhorrence;
When he chanced to rega'd
The Marquis de Sade
He whipped that poor man from Florence!

Further Thoughts about the Epic of Hester:

At least her name wasn't Felicity
( A thought of bizarre eccentricity!)
One would waste so much time
In concocting a rhyme
The result would be verbal toxicity.

Or, supposing her name had been Hilary!
Now there's a poetical pillory.
You'd be driven to look
In a reference book
For some suitable verbal artillery.

(Next, in a broad Dublin accent...)

An wha if she hadda bin Aganes,
Come askin if we's had a fag on us?
We'd tell the oul slag
To go look in her bag
An not hang around to be slaggin' us.

A swarthy young fellow from Kerry
Sailed to Cork on a southern-bound ferry.
On the trip he found love,
And a ring 'neath her glove,
That adulterous fellow from Kerry!

Hi Mr. Chris. That was a Lear-type classic. I laughed

A True Story.

I once had a girl-friend called Mellena
(A bad word I won't ever tell on her )
She had this wee cat
Which strayed so much that
We resorted to tying a bell on her!