Sunday 25 August 2013

Baa Baa Punk Sheep

Welcome to new viewers from Mexico and Israel. We have just added your flags, along with that of Jamaica, to "Hello World".

Baa baa punk sheep.
Why do you look strange?
Sought new image.
Fancied change.
Did my fleece all spiky,
Bought these heavy boots as well,
Then went to get my body pierced,
Which hurt like hell.

(Alternative last three lines for those who may read this to small children:

Bought these boots - they're hot!
Then went to get my body pierced,
Which hurt a lot.)

Thursday 22 August 2013

Nursery rhyme

The cows in the field
Say, "Moo" and yield
Their milk for the farmer to sell.
Some is made into cheese,
And for all to please,
Butter and yogurt as well.

The sheep in the field
Say, "Baa" and yield
Their wool for the farmer to sell.
There's yarn for knitting
And it's only fitting,
Some is made into cloth as well.

The hens in the yard
Work very hard:
Lay eggs for the farmer to sell.
Scrambled, poached, fried,
If you really tried,
You could whip up an omelette as well.

The pigs in the sty
Say, "Oink" and cry,
"It's US that the farmer will sell!"
Pork, ham, bacon...
If we're not mistaken,
Gammon and sausage as well.

Tuesday 13 August 2013

Seven ways to pronounce "ough" in English

Welcome to viewers in Jamaica. We'll be adding your flag to "Hello World" soon!

The little pig is feeling "off":
He has a cold. He has a cough.
But, even so, his food he'll scoff.
Watch him eating at the trough.

Daisybell, the Jersey cow,
Stands beneath a leafy bough.
She's looking at the farmer now.
He's making furrows with his plough.

In Spring, the field with seeds he'll sow,
And even though the wind may blow,
It won't take long for wheat to grow.
This crop makes flour. And flour makes dough.

The farmyard cats and dogs have fought.
They don't get on. They know they ought.
No peace they've sought: they like this sport.
To neither side is victory brought.

Now see the cockerel strut his stuff.
His chest he'll puff. He's macho, tough.
His daily life is far from rough.
He crows at dawn. That's good enough.

The goats the hanging washing chew.
A pillowcase they've bitten through.
They eat a shirt that's nearly new,
And swallow several blouses, too.

And finally, to be quite thorough,
These scenes are set in rural borough.
The ending of these words is "uh".
Can't think of any others - duh!

Saturday 10 August 2013

The "Slow Fix" diet

Edam cheese - 25% fewer calories than. . .
It seems that, if we're dieting,
There is no Holy Grail:
The promise of a quick result
Is guaranteed to fail.

By nature, we're impatient.
We want results - and fast,
But the sudden loss of half a stone
Is something that won't last.

Our body thinks, "I'm starving:
Fat storage cells - make more!"
And thus we end up heavier
Than how we were before.
But take things nice and slowly,
Lose an ounce or two each day,
And we'll get to where we want to be,
And that's how things will stay.

A hundred fewer calories
Than what we're really needing,
Can be achieved quite painlessly,
Without defeat conceding.

Quavers - 80 fewer calories per bag than. . .
The "slightly less" approach to food,
Is logically a winner.
Our bodies draw on fuel reserves:
We gradually get thinner.

Ditch Cheddar cheese for Edam -
There is so much scope for swapping.
Just buy the low-cal versions
When we do our weekly shopping.

These tiny changes every day,
In what we choose to eat,
Will magic excess pounds away,
As long as we don't cheat,
By "forgetting" things we nibble
In such very small amounts:
From that dish upon the table,
Every salted peanut counts.

6 calories each
The numbers on the bathroom scales
Might sometimes fluctuate,
But over time, they're sure to show
A steady loss of weight.

Friday 9 August 2013

Vistaprint update

It seems, to get our image right's
Akin to rocket science.
Vistaprint have given up:
They can't achieve compliance.

They're sorry for the hassle,
Which is only right and fair,
And refunded what we paid them.
Now we'll start again, elsewhere.

Monday 5 August 2013

Vistaprint - a cautionary tale

We wanted to get business cards,
Had seem the TV ad.
A tenner* was the headline cost,
Which didn't seem that bad.

Printing on both back and front
Was what we had decided.
The quoted price, however,
Was for cards that are one-sided.

We carried on regardless.
There was postage...there was VAT...
The price had almost trebled,
But we ordered. That was that.

We'd confirmed the final image,
By a shaded background bordered.
Our cards were then delivered,

We phoned about this problem,
Said, "The cards aren't what we need."
A girl checked all our details.
"Yes, they're wrong," she soon agreed.

She sent a new consignment,
Which we opened with delight,
Then were quickly disappointed.
The design was still not right.

We emailed and we rang again,
Felt utterly defeated.
A third lot was dispatched to us.

We're waiting for the fourth batch,
And this tale's no longer funny.
We've warned them, "Either sort it please,
Or else refund our money."

The process should be simple,
But it's turned into a mess.
Will let you know what happens,
(Which is anybody's guess).

* price shown on advert actually £9.99 

Saturday 3 August 2013

Life on the Home Front - (Final) Part Seven

Welcome to new viewers in Poland and Barbados.

Donate a pan or kettle:
Building tanks and planes needs metal,
And for failing to recycle, no excuse.
Piles of scrap in each locale,
May have helped to boost morale,
But a lot of it was never put to use.

Our cities weren't safe places,
Compared to open spaces,
For children, there was no real need to stay.
From crowded central stations,
They reached new destinations,
Thousands upon thousands sent away.

Living with a stranger
(Albeit out of danger),
Was not the same as being home with Mum.
Many, until now,
Had never seen a cow:
A very weird experience for some.

Churchill led the nation,
What he said, an inspiration.
He assured the population they'd win through...
That the Brits could never fail...
Would eventually prevail...
Which in the end was proven to be true.

Thursday 1 August 2013

Life on the Home Front - Part Six

There were blackouts every night,
For the faintest chink of light
Might, for Gernman bombers, prove a useful guide.
That cheery local soul,
The warden on patrol,
Would ensure that all was glimmer-free outside.

When the air raid siren sounded,
People to the shelters pounded,
Except the very sleepy or less able,
Who might stagger out of bed,
And creep downstairs instead,
To take cover underneath a sturdy table.

Of the bombs that were unloaded,
Some were not types that exploded,
But incendiaries that set the town alight.
The destruction of the Blitz,
Owed much to "Fire Bomb Fritz",
And the buildings that he managed to ignite.

To tackle this dire tactic,
A simple prophylactic:
The volunteer who'd keep us from the mire.
With some water close at hand,
And a bucket filled with sand,
He'd do his best to tackle every fire.