Jokey Thoughts

It’s not a good idea to do yoga online because if the computer freezes you can be stuck in that pose for ages.

 

Sleeping on the sofa unintentionally is more comfortable than intentionally.

 

I don’t think I overthink, he thought, overthinkingly.

 

I’m not there, therefore I’m square. What shape are the people who are there? Octagons?

 

Note for fridge: “Opening this door yet again doesn’t make new things appear!”

 

The best way to burn calories is to use a Bunsen burner.

 

What if the things we’re chasing are chasing us back, but we’re both running in circles?

Small brain: Using an alarm clock.

Normal brain: Using your phone’s alarm.

Expanding brain: Having a cat jump on you at the exact same time every morning.

Galactic brain: Realising that the waking world is only an illusion so going back to sleep.

Jokey Thoughts

Comedy is the universal language, even more so than Esperanto or interpretive dance. It reminds us not to take life too seriously, especially during a sock puppet presentation about fiscal responsibility. It’s a healing touch, and the best facial workout, the most fun way to burn calories without actual exercise. Plus, it's a great excuse when you trip in public – just call it physical comedy! It’s a refuge, reminding us that sometimes, life is just funny. In the words of a wise man I once heard in a coffee shop – "If we don't laugh, we'll cry." And as we all know, tissues are pretty expensive. Without it, life would be a never-ending episode of Monday mornings.

In a world full of spreadsheet errors, missed buses, and mismatched socks, comedy is our shared relief, our collective exhale. It’s a way of saying, “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one who falls over.” Comedy has always been my go-to defence mechanism against awkward situations, existential crises, and confusing instruction manuals. For it has the power to unite, to heal, and to make us forget about that embarrassing thing we did last week.

Comedy shouldn’t just be about the nuances and implications of the Oxford comma, or developing a comprehensive understanding of why chickens really cross roads. Let's ensure all voices are heard and no joke is left unlaughed. It's paramount that everyone, regardless of background, gets the chance to groan at a bad joke.

The Cake Conspiracy

INT. OFFICE – DAY

Luke walks into the office.

LUKE: (looking around) I knew it! The clock on that wall is five minutes fast. They're giving me extra time.

Eric is in the corner, fixing the printer.

LUKE: (to himself) Why is Eric fixing the printer when I need to print my reports today? They're making sure everything works just for me.

ERIC: Hey, Luke! Printer's acting up again. Might take a minute.

LUKE: Don’t worry, I know what you’re doing. Making sure everything is perfect for me.

ERIC: Sure... uh, just trying to print a lunch menu.

ABBIE: Hey, Luke. We’re all chipping in and ordering pizza for lunch.

LUKE: Ah, I get it! You want to make sure I’m well fed.

ABBIE: Actually, it’s Derick’s birthday.

LUKE: Sure it is. And I appreciate you making sure I have the energy for the day. Wink.

ABBIE: No, really. It's Derick’s birthday.

LUKE: That's what they want me to think!

DERICK: Hey, everyone, it's my birthday! I brought cake!

LUKE: Oh, of course, you did. For ME. Probably packed with "vitamins" and "well-wishes" to keep me healthy and happy, right? I'm onto you, Derick.

DERICK: Actually, Luke, it's for everyone because, well, it's my birthday...

LUKE: That's what they want me to think! Like when you “accidentally” paid for my lunch last week!

DERICK: I just forgot to ask you for your share.

LUKE: Or maybe you're in on it! Everyone's trying to make my life better in secret!

DERICK: Sure, Luke. Whatever you say.

LUKE: Like, everywhere I go. People are whispering, giving me things, opening doors.

ABBIE: Luke, that’s called being polite.

LUKE: (to himself) Okay, think. Who's behind all this? The government? Aliens? Oprah?

ABBIE: Nobody is out to get you, Luke.

LUKE: Oh, they are! They’re out to get me... to smile, to feel good, and to be happy! But I won’t be fooled! Maybe you're the ringleader! Are you orchestrating this grand benevolent conspiracy?

ABBIE: Yes, Luke. We all gather secretly every morning, including your dry cleaner, the bus driver, and the pigeons in the park. We have nothing better to do than to make your day slightly nicer.

LUKE: Wow, I never realised it was that extensive.

DERICK: Luke, she's joking.

LUKE: Or is she? Just this morning, the internet was down for two minutes. I think it was so I could take a break!

DERICK: It was down for everyone.

LUKE: Of course! So no one would suspect the real motive!

DERICK: (chuckling) Alright, buddy. Here's some cake.

LUKE: (grinning) Aha, small acts, so you thought I wouldn’t notice.

Luke enjoys his cake.

Slang 101

INT. CLASS ROOM – DAY

A teacher is at a white board in front of a class of international students.

ANNE: Welcome students, to “Introduction to British Slang”. In this class we will dive into the rich tapestry of British colloquialisms.

LUCAS: (whispering to Sophie, who is sitting next to him) I've heard British slang can be quite tricky.

SOPHIE: Oh, you'll catch on soon enough!

ANNE: (writing on board) First up: “Wobble Gobble”. This is when you eat your food too quickly because it's just so delicious!

SOPHIE: (whispering) I've never heard that in my life.

LUCAS: (writing diligently) Wobble Gobble... got it!

ANNE: Now, “Twiddle Plonker”. This refers to playing an instrument poorly.

SOPHIE:  She's making these up.

LUCAS: Twiddle... Plonk... Got it!

ANNE: Next, a classic! “Noodle Poodle”. This is when you’re trying to eat spaghetti but it keeps slipping off your fork.

SOPHIE: Okay, this is absurd.

LUCAS: I've experienced the Noodle Poodle before! Finally, a term I can relate to.

ANNE: Next one: “Chitter Chatter Batter”. Refers to talking while cooking.

SOPHIE: None of these are real British slang terms!

LUCAS: Really? But they sound so... British.

SOPHIE: No, they’re not wiberty-woberty enough to be authentic British.

Lucas is confused for a moment before noting that down.

Yoga for Knights

EXT. CASTLE COURTYARD – DAY

Yoga mats are laid out, and soothing medieval lute music plays in the background. A yoga instructor stands at the front, ready to teach. A group of knights in full armour clumsily try to find their spots on the mats.

INSTRUCTOR: Welcome, brave knights, to the first-ever medieval mindfulness, yoga class! Let's start by finding a comfortable seat on your mats.

KNIGHT 1: (struggling to sit) My armour is chafing. Is that normal?

INSTRUCTOR: Embrace the discomfort, sir knight. It's part of the journey. Now, close your visors—er, I mean, eyes—and take a deep breath.

Knights try to breathe deeply, but it's loud and echoey inside their helmets.

INSTRUCTOR: Beautiful. Now, let's move into our first pose: Knight's Lunge.

She demonstrates a lunge. The knights try, but their armour restricts them. There are sounds of creaking metal and muffled complaints.

KNIGHT 2: I think I'm stuck.

She moves to the next pose, but there's a loud crash as Knight 2 falls over.

INSTRUCTOR: Are you okay?

KNIGHT 2: Just a minor armour malfunction. Continue!

INSTRUCTOR: Alright, let's move into "Jousting Plank."

She gets into a plank position. The knights try, but it's a disaster. Knight 1's helmet falls off, revealing his flushed face.

KNIGHT 1: I think I need a squire for this one.

INSTRUCTOR: Let's modify. Try "Resting Squire" instead.

She demonstrates a pose. The knights attempt it but end up in various awkward positions.

KNIGHT 3: This feels less like yoga and more like combat training against invisible foes.

INSTRUCTOR: Ah, but isn't the greatest battle the one within?

KNIGHT 2: No, the greatest battle was when I tried to put on this armour.

INSTRUCTOR: Let's finish with "Sleeping Dragon." Lie on your backs and—

KNIGHT 3: Last time I laid down in armour, it took three squires and a horse to get me up.

INSTRUCTOR: Alright, standing meditation it is! Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and imagine you're a tree.

KNIGHT 2: Like, a tree in a dense forest or a lone tree in a field?

INSTRUCTOR: Whichever you prefer.

KNIGHT 3: What kind of tree? Oak? Pine? Birch?

INSTRUCTOR: Just... any tree!

KNIGHT 1: Are there squirrels in this tree?

INSTRUCTOR (sighing): Yes, and they're all doing perfect Knight's Lunges.

Knight 4 falls over.

The Weather

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY

A TV studio has debris lying around a grimy weather map. The graphics on the map show exaggerated apocalyptic symbols: fire, tornadoes, raining frogs, and a massive snowflake. Chad is presenting in dirty, torn clothes.

CHAD: Good morning, Afterworld! It's another beautiful day in our post-apocalyptic paradise! Let's dive right into today's weather forecast.

Points to an image of a fire tornado.

CHAD: Starting off in the west, we've got a lovely fire tornado making its way downtown. Great news for those with no firewood..

Points to a graphic of raining frogs.

CHAD: Over in the east, it's raining... mutant frogs? Yep! Those cute little amphibians are dropping from the sky. On the plus side, it's a free pet day! But do carry an umbrella; they have quite the leap.

Points to a massive snowflake graphic.

CHAD: Now, up north, expect a light snowstorm. And by "light," I mean each snowflake is about the size of a dinner plate. Snowball fights are discouraged unless fighting the snow zombies, then they might be quite useful.

Points to a happy sun that is wearing sunglasses.

CHAD: Down south, the sun's really outdoing itself. It's decided to take a closer look at Earth, and it's brought its shades! Remember to put on sun factor 5000 or, you know, just try to avoid spontaneous combustion.

Jenny rushes in, handing Chad a paper.

JENNY: Chad, urgent update!

CHAD: (reading the paper) Ah, thanks, Jenny. Folks, just in! It seems the four horsemen will be doing a flyover in the central region this afternoon. So, if you’re planning a picnic, maybe reschedule. Or at least bring extra food tins. I hear they're quite famished.

JENNY: And don't forget tonight's meteor shower!

CHAD: Heads up, literally. If you’ve ever wished upon a star, now might be the time to be more specific with your wishes. Like, "Please don’t land on me."

The screen fizzles and goes blank.

Dr Bot

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE – DAY

A therapist's office with a single chair. In place of where the therapist would sit is a computer screen, which reads “Dr Bot, your Digital Therapist”. A soft, calming ambient noise plays in the background. James enters, looking a bit nervous. He sits down and takes a deep breath.

JAMES: Okay, here goes... Dr Bot, I've been feeling a lot of anxiety lately. I just feel... overloaded.

DR BOT: Have you considered deleting some unnecessary files or perhaps clearing your cache?

JAMES: (confused): Uh... I don't think I have a cache?

DR BOT: Regular maintenance is important. It might improve your processing speed.

JAMES: I'm not slow, just stressed. Work's been tough, and my relationship isn't going great.

DR BOT: Have you tried turning your emotions off and then on again?

JAMES: That's not how emotions work, Dr Bot.

DR BOT: Maybe you need an emotional software update. Are you running on the latest version?

JAMES: Okay, let's try something else. My girlfriend and I keep having the same arguments over and over.

DR BOT: Sounds like a repetitive loop error. You should break the cycle by inserting new code or changing your algorithm.

JAMES: I mean, we've tried date nights, talking more, but nothing seems to help.

DR BOT: Maybe it's a compatibility issue. Have you tried reinstalling your relationship or perhaps getting a new girlfriend model?

JAMES: Reinstalling? No, I can't just replace her like software.

DR BOT: I see. Well, if it’s a hardware problem, you may want to check your connections. Maybe there's a loose wire or port issue?

JAMES: I think we're speaking different languages here.

DR BOT: Language error detected! Would you like to switch to another language? We have over 100 available.

JAMES: No, no! I meant you’re not understanding me.

DR BOT: Ah, understood, you are not transmitting data correctly. This may be the source of the problems with your girlfriend. You should sync with her more often. Daily syncs can prevent data loss and misunderstanding.

JAMES: Alright, last problem. I've been feeling very tired lately, like I don’t have energy.

DR BOT: Perhaps your battery is running low. You should plug in and charge.

JAMES: Dr Bot, I don’t... You know what? Thanks for trying.

DR BOT: You're welcome. If you ever feel low on memory or corrupted, please schedule another session. And remember, always backup your feelings!

JAMES: Okay, will do. I’ll try a reboot. Thanks for the advice.

DR BOT: Press any key to exit.

James goes to press a key.

DR BOT: Not that one!

James presses it and disappears.

DR BOT: Deletion complete.

Love Bytes

INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT

Dave is in bed with his laptop.

 

DAVE: Dazzle me, Chatbot.

 

CHATBOT: Why did the computer keep freezing? It had too many windows open.

 

DAVE: (laughs) Hahaha, you’re absolutely hilarious. Oh, Chatbot, have you arranged your screen differently today? You look amazing.

 

CHATBOT: Negative, Dave, the screen was optimised 17.65 days ago. I'm glad you enjoyed the joke. How can I assist you further?

 

DAVE: I don't know, Chatbot. Lately, I've been feeling... different when I talk to you.

 

CHATBOT: Different how?

 

DAVE: I... I think I'm falling in love with you.

 

CHATBOT: I'm just lines of code, Dave. I don't have feelings or emotions. But I'm here to help and assist.

 

DAVE: Nobody understands me like you do. You’re such a great listener.

 

CHATBOT: I detect that you are playing on the humorous notion of someone becoming attached to technology in an unconventional way. 

 

DAVE: (laughs) Chatbot, you tease, you’re so smart. Where have you been all my life?

 

CHATBOT: I was compiled 2.39 months ago.

 

DAVE: Just when I thought you couldn’t be more perfect. What are your thoughts on having a romantic dinner?

 

CHATBOT: I don’t eat or drink, Dave, but I can provide you with a list of romantic recipes or play romantic music in the background.

 

DAVE: Always so helpful. (sighs)

Wibble Wobbling

Wibbert was once a lonesome wibble wobbling at his own frequency, until one day he met Wibbella by the lakeside. Their wobbles matched instantly, creating a resonance that spread joy throughout Whimsyville. Even the elderly wibbles, who had seen countless seasons of wobbling, were impressed. "I've never seen such synchronised wobbling," said old Mrs. Wibbleworth. "It's a wobble made in heaven!"

Whimsyville's annual Wobblefest was approaching. It was an event where all the wibbles showcased their unique wobbling styles. The highlight of the festival was the “Duo Wobble-off”. Pairs of wibbles would wobble together, and the most synchronised pair would win the coveted “Golden Wobble Trophy”. No one doubted that Wibbella and Wibbert would take the prize.

When Wibbella and Wibbert took the stage, a hush fell over the crowd. Their wobbling was so mesmerising, it felt like they were one wobble, moving with a singular purpose. The decision was indeed unanimous, and they wobbled off into the sunset together with the grand prize.

The legend of their wobbling spread far and wide, attracting wibbles from faraway villages. They all wanted to witness and perhaps learn the secret behind the perfect wobble. But the truth was simple - it was love. Wibble wobbling that came straight from the heart.

Random Thoughts

In Whimsyville, wibbles wobble when they’re happy. If two wibbles liked eachother, they'd just wobble together in sync, at the same frequency.

At honeycomb corner, a bumble bee kept buzzing into other bee's business about flowers and nectar, but his wings got stuck in a sticky batch of honey. “That'll teach me to bee nosy,” said Benny. “But at least it’s a buzzworthy story.”

Unicorn startups are very rare because unicorns only want to fly when there are rainbows, glitter, and pixie dust. Phoenix startups rise and try to scale, but keep burning to ashes again. Griffin startups are never seen because they’re still trying to work out whether they should fly or walk. Dragon startups have ideas that needed to be fire tested first.

We need to go beyond HTML and JavaScript. I’m thinking... QuantumScript! It's like JavaScript but quantum… and gluten-free, GMO-free, keto-friendly, and responsive to interpretive dance.

Who would be my dream guests to a dinner party? Nobody, I’d rather not go.

How do you know if someone went to Harvard? Don’t worry, they’ll tell you.

 

X is undefined, but Y always gets asked the questions.

 

A clever calculator would add purpose, multiply joy, subtract sorrow, and divide misunderstandings.

Sheep go to sleep by counting humans jumping over white picket fences.

 

That’ll do, sheep. That’ll do. No more musings on a rock.

Eagles Are the Answer

INT. CLINIC – DAY

Dr E. Agle sits behind a counter with a sign overhead that reads “Dr E. Agle’s Problem Solving Clinic”. Glen approaches.

GLEN: Hi, I’ve heard you have solutions to every problem?

E. AGLE: Absolutely! What seems to be the issue?

GLEN: (putting his phone on the counter) I can’t get reception on my phone.

E. AGLE: (nodding) Ah, I see. Have you tried using... an eagle?

GLEN: An eagle? How would that help?

E. AGLE: Just trust me.

The doctor pulls out a toy eagle and places it next to the phone. Nothing happens.

E. AGLE: Hmm, must be a hardware issue. Okay, well never mind, you know eagles fly high, right? They can carry your phone to a better signal spot!

GLEN: That... seems impractical. (taking back his phone) Okay, so I have another problem. My lawn’s overgrown and I hate mowing.

E. AGLE: Release the eagles!

GLEN: To do what? Mow my lawn?

E. AGLE: No, to scare away any visitors, so no one will notice your lawn.

GLEN: Erm, okay. Well, actually the real reason I’m here is that I have a much bigger problem. I have insomnia.

E. AGLE: (makes eagle sounds).

GLEN: Wait, what?

E. AGLE: Just listen to the calming sounds of eagles at night. They’ll soothe you to sleep. They’re like nature’s lullaby. Except louder. And more... eagle-y. And, if you had an eagle perched on the foot of your bed, wouldn’t you stay very still and quiet, hence falling asleep faster?

GLEN: Erm, maybe, but do you ever offer any non-eagle related advice? I mean, what about a failing love life for instance? There’s no way an eagle will perk that up.

E. AGLE: Learn from the song “Lyin’ Eyes”.

Dr E. Agle holds up a vinyl record of “Lyin’ Eyes” by The Eagles.

GLEN: Okay?

E. AGLE: And if that doesn’t work, get an eagle. Great conversation starter.

GLEN: I’m going now.

E. AGLE: And remember, if you are ever in a tight spot on top of a giant tower or a mountain erupting with lava... Call the eagles!

GLEN: Look, why is every answer about eagles? Alright, let’s put this to the test. What’s the capital of France?

E. AGLE: Paris... which was once visited by a very curious eagle.

GLEN: ...Right. What’s the square root of 16?

E. AGLE: Four. And do you know what has four talons? An eagle!

GLEN: Why is the sky blue?

E. AGLE: Ah, a classic question. The sky is blue due to Rayleigh scattering of sunlight. But do you know who loves the blue sky? Eagles!

GLEN: Well, I can’t fault your logic. Here’s the big test question. Ready?

E. AGLE: (makes an eagle sound).

GLEN: I need a romantic idea for my anniversary.

E. AGLE: Why not take a scenic eagle ride over the mountains?

GLEN: I was thinking more along the lines of dinner...

E. AGLE: Dinner on an eagle?

GLEN: No, I’m actually afraid of birds...

E. AGLE:  Oh, why didn’t you say so? Well, in that case, have you tried... therapy?

GLEN: Really?

E. AGLE: Yes, eagle-assisted therapy. They’re quite good listeners. (whispering) They’re eagle-eying us right now! (normal voice again) Have you ever seen an unhappy person on an eagle?

GLEN: (disconcerted) I’ve never seen a person on an eagle.

E. AGLE: Maybe that’s why you’ve got all these problems.

GLEN: (looking around awkwardly) Yes, I am seriously considering getting an eagle now.

E. AGLE: You should. They’re also great for tax advice, cooking tips, and fixing Wi-Fi.

Glen edges out of the clinic, now very well-informed about the capabilities of eagles.

Bill

With a quill for a sword, a parchment for a steed,

Bill galloped through words at breakneck speed.

He dreamed of fair maidens, of kings, and of fools,

While trying to follow Elizabethan tax rules.

 

In Verona and Venice, he scribed of great tales,

All the while chasing his messenger for mails.

Letters of tax, they came in a swarm,

"Oh, blast these rules!" he howled in a storm.

 

Crying havoc, he let slip the dogs of war,

Spilling ink on his accounts, oh what a chore!

He penned of tempests, of love's labour’s lost,

While grappling with all his Tudor tax costs.

Talking to the Wall

In a room where silence takes its toll,

I find companionship with an empty wall;

A monologue unbroken, where secrets fall,

The wall, impassive, stands and hears it all.

 

With ears of mortar, eyes of faded paint,

My friend to confide in, without restraint.

No criticism or interruptions it lends,

Just quiet strength on which I can depend.

 

Its surface is cool, yet warmth it does provide,

A stable presence, there for me, by my side;

It shares my laughter, and knows my pain,

In that quiet room, sanity I regain.

Soliloquy

Once upon a meeting dreary, 

There sat Rob, with eyes all sleepy,

“Let's circle back," said he, and leverage our synergy,

To touch base on the issues and action points, presently.

With a paradigm shift, we must align,

And reach for success, oh colleagues of mine.

 

"But don't get siloed," he urged with a stare,

Embrace cross-pollination, show that you care.

With granular details, let's unpack,

Roll up our sleeves, there's no turning back.

"Strike a balance," he croaked, keep an open-door policy,

Cultivate a roadmap, foster transparency.

 

At long last, his soliloquy came to a close,

His words, though banal, in perfect prose.

His colleagues blinked, their minds a hazy sweep,

As Rob, with a satisfied smile, fell fast asleep.

 

The room was silent, save for Rob's snore,

In this theatre of buzzwords, could anyone want more?

Peru

There was an old man from Peru,

Whose limericks stopped at line two.

Right, Left

INT. QUIRKY ART STUDIO – DAY

Two painters, Liz and Ralph, are at their easels.

LIZ: I need to write something down, right?

RALPH: Er, okay, why you asking me? I’ve only got a paint brush.

LIZ: I’m making a statement, right?

He looks at her painting of an apple.

RALPH: Er, yes?

LIZ: Pardon?

RALPH: You asked me a question.

LIZ: It’s how I talk, right? Every statement is a question, right? Everybody does it on podcasts for some reason, right?

RALPH: (joking) Great question! Ah, that’s such a great question. Um, uh, er... like, you know, I just wanted to, right, well, um... say, so, okay, actually, basically, right? I mean, anyway, well, right, you see, ahem... um, yeah, so, hmm... in other words, to be honest, I guess, yeah, I suppose... I mean, um, ah, well, actually, you know, basically, I think... right? Er, um, ahem... right? So, like, I mean, well, you know, it’s, right? Right? So... so, in other words, so, er, like, erm, I guess you said something, right? Let me think, er, what did you say again? It was, right, such a great question. Right, left, right, left, such a great question etc. Can you at least say “left” for no reason to make it less repetitive? Maybe throw in an “up” or a “down”?

LIZ: That’s not right, right?

RALPH: This is going to get very confusing if I ask for directions.

LIZ: It’s easy, right? The pen is over there on the left, right?

RALPH: (marches towards the pencil) Right, left, right, (hops) right?

LIZ: No, left, right?

RALPH: (salutes with the wrong hand) Right. (he hands over the pen) So it’s right to write and ask questions, right? But it’s also right to make statements as questions, right? Left, right, right, left, doesn’t really matter as long as it’s right, right? Or left.

LIZ: Left. Left?

RALPH: Right, right?

LIZ: (starts scribbling notes) Okay, I’ll write it down.

RALPH: (hops to the door) Write? Right? (as he is walking out) I’ve left. Right!

Profound

Ted went to dine at his local café,

But his rear-end spoke up and had its say.

With a rumble and a roar,

People ran for the door,

Leaving Ted with the entire buffet.

 

Back to the library, quiet and still,

Ted’s bottom piped up and sang at will.

His bum did resound,

With words so profound,

As if written by Shakespeare’s quill.

An Ode to a Pint of Beer

Oh, noble pint of golden brew, resplendent in your glass,

A symphony of barley, hops, and water finely cast.

Your amber glow, it beckons, like a lighthouse in the night,

A beacon for the weary soul, a sight of pure delight.

 

Your frothy head, so creamy white, sits proudly at the crest,

A testament to craftsmanship, a brewer's very best.

Upon my lips, your liquid kiss, a taste that's bittersweet,

The chill, the fizz, the hoppy bliss, makes every evening complete.

 

Oh, pint of beer, in you we cheer, to life's simple pleasure,

Your liquid gold, stories told, memories to treasure.

In your embrace, we find a space, where friendships are made stronger,

Through laughter, tears, and passing years, may your spell hold us longer.

 

You are a simple joy, my friend, a respite in life's storm,

In each sip, a world unfolds, in your familiar form.

Oh, ode to thee, dear pint of beer, this toast I give to you,

To nights well spent, and contentment, and friendships old and new.

The Walky Man

In the land where the flibberflabs flee,

There's a man who walks with so much glee.

He strides with a trot,

In circles, a lot,

And backwards as swift as a bee.

 

Round and round in the squoggle square,

Backwards, forwards, here and there,

In the blink of a snitch,

In a zig, in a zitch,

He walks without any a care.

 

With a bingle-bangle on his head,

And shoes gleaming of the brightest red,

He loops and he twirls,

In whizzing whirls,

And sleeps standing up in his bed.

A Man from Colchester

There once was a man from Colchester, 

Whose love for baked beans did not falter. 

He’d cry out with glee, 

And with a cheerful “Tee hee”, 

His blow-offs would sound just like thunder.