| Commander
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| 25730. Sun Oct 02, 2005 11:02 pm |
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Snake bake.
When dining on Python it's vital to check
That it hasn't got breakfast concealed in its neck.
The last thing you want from your Snake Bake or piesies is
Startled Explorer, or other surprises.
Last edited by Commander on Thu Oct 06, 2005 9:37 am; edited 2 times in total
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| Frederick The Monk
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| 25884. Tue Oct 04, 2005 11:30 am |
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A DOG'S BREAKFAST
I will not walk a whippet
For I’m not inclined to run
And I will not cuddle collies
Or splash out on tins of chum.
I’ve never paid a vets bill
For a sick or soleful Schnauzer
And I’ll never feed a rarer breed
And then agree to house ‘er.
Yet all the dogs are welcome
In my little country pile
And particularly in the kitchen
Though they only stay a while.
Whilst their owners fret around the place
And call out “here boy, Spot”
In the vain hope that their canine friend
Can hear them through the pot.
And occasionally their gloomy face
Comes looming at the door
Saying that they’ve never known
Them gone this long before.
And I sympathise quite openly
And speculate and muse
But I never tell the owners
That I hold “Korean’ views.
But instead I tell them firmly
That their dog most prob’ly hid
As I try to push its wagging tail
Back underneath the lid.
For I know it’s not quite ‘English’
But I think my view’s a winner
A man’s best friend is not his dog
A man’s best friend is dinner. |
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| Flash
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| 25915. Tue Oct 04, 2005 4:01 pm |
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| Very, very good - but immoral. |
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| Frederick The Monk
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| 25917. Tue Oct 04, 2005 4:10 pm |
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| Could we settle for amoral? |
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| simonp
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| 25920. Tue Oct 04, 2005 4:12 pm |
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ode to a goldfish
O
Wet
Pet
not one of my own I'll add, Giles Brandreth, I believe |
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| Flash
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| 25921. Tue Oct 04, 2005 4:12 pm |
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| Amorous - and that's my final word. |
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| Frederick The Monk
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| 25969. Wed Oct 05, 2005 7:57 am |
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| Well, if you're going to have the final word, I can't think of a better one. |
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| Frederick The Monk
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| 25970. Wed Oct 05, 2005 7:57 am |
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| or possible 'limpid'. |
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| Commander
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| 26512. Mon Oct 10, 2005 1:59 pm |
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Beetle Jelly.
Whilst making Beetle Jelly in my kitchen last night
I noticed something odd about the taste.
Perhaps it was the Beetle as the flavour wasn't right
Was it something in the notes that I'd replaced?
I read them once; I read them twice; I followed all the pages.
I checked that my ingredients were ripe.
I whisked it and I beat it and I stirred for what seemed ages,
But it tasted just like custard mixed with tripe.
So the next time I feel peckish and I want a little Jelly
It's Raspberry or Strawberry or Lime.
And I'll leave the Beetle jelly to the lady on the telly;
As for me - I simply haven't got the time! |
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| Frederick The Monk
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| 26596. Tue Oct 11, 2005 3:11 pm |
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| Just lovely. You were made for Theoretical Pet Cookery, Commander. Either that or you've been secretly practising the real thing! |
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| Commander
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| 27243. Tue Oct 18, 2005 7:03 am |
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Elephant's Feathers.
If you're a bit poorly or under the weather,
Just nip out and purchase an Elephant's Feather.
It won't make you better, it won't make you worse,
But at least you'll have something to tickle your Nurse! |
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| Ciggywink
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| Commander
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| 27545. Thu Oct 20, 2005 8:26 am |
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My dear Ciggywink - it is not very jolly
To think that I'd dine on a Cat or a Polly!
(As far as the lady you cite is concerned,
Well, I reckon she ought to be tied up and burned!)
My poems are silly and not very practical
(Have you tried to cook a cross Hippo or Cat at all?)
More of this later - there's work to be done,
I've a Badger profiterole luncheon at one! |
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| Rory Gilmore
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| 28299. Tue Oct 25, 2005 1:38 pm |
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Fizzy mouse
From Mad Drinks by Michael Rosen.
I suppose cooking a dog might be morally acceptable if the animal was in fact the product of artificial insemenation between a wolf and a wolf hound leaving it in a state of self-loathing. Ah, if I had my own genetic engineering facilitys... |
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| Ciggywink
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| 28319. Tue Oct 25, 2005 3:43 pm |
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Here's hoping that pet dragons won't be affected by the gov't's avian ban.
To The Commander for his very nice Kitty Ditty.
There was a chatroom called QI
A lovely place to bye the bye,
For in they came – in one by ones
Harkening the primordial drums.
That silent sound that most don’t hear
A frequency of yester year
That ancient sense – the fourth you know,
The one that maketh men just so,
Which in these times is sad forgot
As glitzy show just drowns the lot.
And so they blurbled without prating
(Truth be said) pontificating
Did occur ont odd occasion
A given – some were old as Trajan
But all the same, elves never slow
In mining molehills’ hidden glow
Through the night until the dawn
Till fingers and their brains were worn.
Now then there came a dreadful day
Mephistopheles he came to play
Witty? Charming? what a clown!
His repartee gained quick renown,
All thought his ‘name’ was but a joke
So tradition was in such folk.
And as the string just grew and grew
Like some demented worm or two
Or worse a strand of DNA
PCR-ed, day after day
The chatroom gone, he looked for more
The server through the open door*
The more he ate, the more he knew
That it was time to split in two
Next he mastered binary fission
More deadly onwards for his mission.
Then a veggy moment passed
Apple snacked, he'd broken fast.
Cnet, wiki, yahoo, what now
On to Google – what a wow!
And so it went, on and on
With Microsoft the dark side’s gone.
With nothing left, he starts to chew
The only thing in reach that grew…
The dragon munched away his tail,
Feet, hips, and chest – he's now the grail
The dragon’s head is all that rests
Holiest symbol of our quest
And so remember – all who write
On Qi’s pages late at night
What you dash off, in a trice or three
Will echo in eternity.
*Those open-architecture types have been warned... |
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