The adventures of a mate of mine:

Hermione Pringle

"Hermione dear
come here,
come hear.
Now listen
to what I say."

"Your father and I
have a wonderful plan
with a part
for you to play."

"We are going to knit
a voluminous craft
to travel in,
far away."

"Daddy will steer
and pedal it too,
but you will
show him the way."

"We will journey
at night,
by the light
of the stars,
and relax
in sun beams
by day."

"I will ensure,
as a mother should,
that you eat
three times
each day."

"Off you go now
and compile the route.
With my knitting
I will stay."

"Daddy my dear,
just finish the drive,
and we'll set off
later today."

As the sun
went down
on the pringle yard
they flew off
without delay.

Father pedalled
and pointed
the craft
while Hermione
showed him the way.

They parked up at dawn
on a goonibah beach
where a jerrimble
nibbled away,
at the purl
and the plain
of the undercart,
while he burped
and brungled all day.

With fresh spun cloud,
and jerrimble horns
Mum knitted
a new landing tray.

Dad pedalled away
for all he was worth
While Hermione
plotted the way.

The day
and the night time
rocketed past,
and the world
was hurled
far astray.

Father braked hard
on the wonderful craft
so it came in to land
on the tray.

High in the boughs
of Venusian trees
the Pringles
came out to say:

"here is the most
deluptiful place
that ever
we came
to play."

At Alpha Centauri
they stayed
for two weeks
in the forests
of purple and grey.

Centaurans
all loved them
and copied
their craft.
Then waved
as they went
on their way.

It was horrid inside
the black hole
that they found,
when they toured
the milky way.

It turned inside out,
the fatherly drive,
and made all the purl
into plain.

The Pringles decided
this just
wouldn't do.
They simply
declined to stay.

So mother
refurbished
the stitches,
and then,
Hermione
showed them
the way.

In seconds
they swept
to the pringle
front yard
and screeched
to a halt
on their tray.

Close up behind them
Centaurans came.
Three hundred
decided to stay.

Not being vegetation, (like Moxy) last night I had peeking duck with fried mice and poodles. The mice and poodles were impeccably well behaved, and I never saw the ducks peeking, but during the night they were troublesome. They cannot have slept well because they kept turning over and gurgling, causing me to do the same. This was disruptive to the sleep of my poor wife so when the little blighters started quacking out of my bottom she was wakened from her light slumbers immediately and I was evicted despite the disturbance being nothing whatever to do with me.

Such behaviour (on the part of the ducks I hasten to add, not me) is highly improper and offensive to the sensibilities of genteel persons such as what I am. I can only put this down to sixty years of communism and the lack of manners so induced. You not get anything like it from a bombay duck.

I did expect the ducks to leave this morning, but they didn't. They have been hanging about in a dense motionless lump. Apparently catching up on the rest that they lost during the night. Lucky for them I say. I had no such opportunity. Despite my immense fatigue and duck induced lethargy, I was sent off into the nettle patch to do battle with some wild convolvulus. As you will know, these beasts are savage constrictors who wave pretty white flowers at you to distract you and then take strangle holds on your body. I hacked through the gorgon like tentacles, casting my eyes from the flower distractions, and made good progress into the impenetrable thicket until I encountered a new flank in which the binding weeds had formed an alliance with some thorny haws. These heavily armed and stoutly build warriors spiked me on their razor tipped weapons to hold me stationary while I was convolved.

Weakened with sleep deprivation and the dead weight of overdue oriental ducks in deep, immovable slumber, I expired.

Here's a companion for Hermione on her adventures. She will ensure there is no scurvy.

Time for the children to be fed
Time for the Woman With The Toffee Apple Head.

A little light Learing.


Tabatha Bagginshaw


Tabatha Bagginshaw jumped in the cab
of her new inter-stellar green prune.
She nipped out to Jupiter, just before tea,
with a sharp left turn at the moon.
We whipped round the galaxy roaring with glee,
with a sharp left turn at the moon.

Tabath Bagginshaw played with the groak
who lives in the Jovian dune.
They spent the night out, watching clarvicles dance
round the sharp left turn at the moon.
They sniggerd a bit, as they cuddled and cooed
round the sharp left turn at the moon.

Tabatha Bagginshaw's fallen in love
and married, by far too soon.
She and her groak went to build their new home
past the sharp left turn at the moon.
It's three comets tall, with purnicular doors
past the sharp left turn at the moon.

Tabatha Bagginshaw furnished her house
with turnicled chairs in each room.
The groak brought them home on the cucumber bus
from the sharp left turn at the moon.
The bed was a beautiful, shining white star
from the sharp left turn at the moon.

Tabatha Bagginshaw visited me
and her groak came along quite soon.
They made me a gift of the lovely green prune
by the sharp left turn at the moon.
We dined in the cafe on lightly grilled clouds,
by the sharp left turn at the moon.

The Marriage of Ellie and Carl


Joe Angel mounted Pegasus,
and off they winged their way.
They flew past
gimble's breakfast time
to where the muleys play.

Carl Crocophant loved Ellie.
An eledile of grace.
So Carl and Ellie travelled off
to plight their troth in space.

Jo Angel met them wandering
in starry, starry sky.
He married them,
right there and then
and bid them fair goodbye.

They honeymooned
in Gimble Ground
at Unicorn hotel.
Carl picked his tooth
with the curly horn
while Griffon served them well.

"Oh Ellie, my darling,
you scrupulous girl
Your trinkly trunk
puts my head in a whirl.
All the way down
to your scaly tail,
I love every bit of you,
glowing and pale."

"Dear cuddly Carl
with your pointy teeth.
The horny nails
on your fat, round feet,
tingle me gently
with prickly heat.

Seated at a table of slate,
Len Lirich talked
to his Oston mate.
They called on Ellie and Carl
to join, and there
they shared
a butterfly loin.

Feasting on, for a hundred days,
they talked of life
a thousand ways.
Until at last
the loin was gone
so Carl and Ellie
went walking on.

Olive stroked her glorious mane
and tickled Len 'til he went insane.
Then Len curled up
his bobulous beak,
to say how crocophants
earlobes squeak.

Joe Angel dropped down
from the sky,
telling Carl and Ellie
he had called by,
'cos now was time
to journey back,
to Muleytown
with the muley pack.

"Dear, dearest Carl."
"Oh Ellie my love."
He cooed to her
like a turtle dove.
"We've honeymooned
in glorious style.
Now with the muleys
we'll live a while.

Ermintrude Prune

The world was better without Miss Prune.
All who met her despised her soon.
She ate slugs for breakfast
and more for tea
then sicked on the table disgustingly.

Ermintrude Prune, Ermintrude Prune
horrible, horrible, Ermintrude Prune.

She painted her kitten
in luminous red
then chased it all over
her grandmother's bed.
Poor kitty was startled,
but what was still worse
her granny leapt up
and in nighties she fled.

Ermintrude Prune, Ermintrude Prune
terrible, terrible, Ermintrude Prune.

All through the village
gran glowed at high speed.
Split from her wits
by Ermintrude's deed.
The kitten pursued her
as bright as poor gran
no one could tell
where their journey would lead.

Ermintrude Prune, Ermintrude Prune
horrible, horrible, Ermintrude Prune.

While granny and kitty
demented ran on,
Ermintrude cared not a bit
they were gone.
She gobbled down snails
and plates full of toads,
'til sluggish she toadied
and slithered along.

Ermintrude Prune, Ermintrude Prune
terrible, terrible, Ermintrude Prune.

Affrighted and shining,
they burst in the church.
Grandma and kitty
caused vicar to lurch.
He fell from the belfry
right into the road
and a passing pantechnicon
hit a tall birch.

Ermintrude Prune, Ermintrude Prune
horrible, horrible, Ermintrude Prune.

The great tree fell over
and crashed to the earth.
Fat Ermintrude slthered
for all she was worth.
She flicked out her tongue
at a poor passing slug,
as a branch compressed
her incredible girth.

Ermintrude Prune, Ermintrude Prune
terrible, terrible, Ermintrude Prune.

With terrible burst
the Prune expired,
and squidgety things
new air respired.
Slugs and other noxious beasts
danced in circles lustily.
The slimy things laughed
'til they all perspired.

Ermintrude Prune, Ermintrude Prune
horrible, horrible, Ermintrude Prune.