The artificial hip

Quite how he managed to afford the new artificial hip joint was beyond me. He often had barely more than a few pennies to rub together at the best of times. The question now, I suppose, was not how he had obtained it but why? You see, he had no use for it. His hips were fine. It would now use up valuable storage space in the old Robin Reliant he called home. He would have been better off investing in a hat.

Time to move on...

Roland looked closely at the snail, “If that’s all you can say about the matter you’re no friend of mine”. On that note he turned heel, waved in a coquettish way at the pudding salesman in the shop over the road, and headed off down Mulford’s Hill. He wasn’t a worldly man but he knew one thing for sure…Tadley was not the place for him anymore.

Purgatory on the sideline

The Pope is playing football
On the slope by Mrs. T
And the vicars all come running
In the hope that it may be
The game to bring the punters
The crowd will start to roar
But the Pope is playing all alone
And they promise it will pour

So they bring on the reserves
The Cardinal and the Bishop
And expect the crowd to sing along
With not the slightest mishap
The crowd have failed to turn up
The couple in the box
Went to church last Sunday
But failed to pick the locks

On the box that held the secrets
That the minister held dear
Though he tried with all his parables
To cast away the fear

In the background of the game
Is the cloud that will not go
Not the cloud that tells of rain
Or hints of coming snow
But the cloud that fails to clear
That makes them all feel low

Its the cloud of death that hangs there
And is never understood
Though with promises of saving
That will in the end make good
But you have to play the game
Accept who holds the key
Take your place as centre forward
Weekly pay the fee

And you’re never really sure
Till the final whistle blows
If you’ve made the right decisions
Played the rules that no-one knows
And you slip onto the touchline
Reaching out to feel the crowd
And the final cheers are missing
You expect them to be loud

You are heading for the showers
All alone and in the dark
And the showers slip away
And you slide right off the park
And you wish that you had listened
To the other man's advice
As you head into oblivion
It starts to not feel nice

Had you listened to the Buddhist
Or the Hindu man you met
You’d have avoided relegation
Though the game’s not ended yet
And your chance to reach the final
Is a target in your sight
And the whole abysmal journey
Would end without a fright

You chose your team with thought though
And you paid the price with glee
You attended all the matches
And you always found the fee
And you laughed at all the other teams
Who didn’t know the rules
And you always knew that in the end
You were to rig the pools

But who’s the winner now
As you head to claim the cup
And there’s no-one there but darkness
No point in looking up
You scrabble for the reason
But it’s too late to pick your teams
And the all important fixtures
Become nothing more than dreams.