Thought for Today

I was out cycling on a half-decent afternoon a couple of weeks ago with mind and machine both freewheeling, when the first 2 lines of yet another grumble about Trump (a Trumble?) reared their/its/his ugly head.

Thought for Today

Today I sat down in my chair with a thump

and thought I would twitter like President Trump.

Each nocturnal, 1 40 character burst

would end with the phrase, “America first”.

I’d smooth down my hair and curl up my lip

and give it out straight as I shoot from the hip.

I’d spit out invective and dollop out scorn

and make all those Muslims regret they were born.

I’d sign a decree to impose travel ban,

‘cos foreigners by birth are un-Am-erican.

I’d stab with my finger and screw up my eyes

and not even blink as I tell you more lies,

for lies don’t depend on what once was called “Truth”

and dissed by the liberal elite as uncouth.

If it’s black and white striped and smells like a skunk,

but fits with your credo, you know it’s not bunk.

Ladies, we love you, so don’t be a dope.

You know that it’s never for words that I grope.

Soon it’s quite clear for who(m) I am rootin’ :

first Donald J Trump, then Vladimir Putin.

I learned from my dad how to duck and to dive.

I’m 45th. President, Colt 45.

I’m all full of bile, xenophobia and hate.

Rally round, folks! Let’s make America great!

February 9th., 1929

At the Macclesfield Creative Writing Group workshop last Thursday (February 9th.), we started the session with a Valentine’s Day related theme and then moved on to one on “This day in History”.  What came out of the first part is classified “Top Secret” at the time of writing, but I thought I’d revisit the remarkable observation made in 1929 for the second topic.

February, 9th., 1929

If Sir Alexander Fleming had been a tidy worker

(and not sometimes stared out the lab., though he never was a shirker),

if he’d neatly cleared away all his piles of Petri dishes,

we wouldn’t have a drug to cure our epidermal fissures.

He left out his agar cultures which got cross contaminated

with a grey-green mould and this Gram + exterminated.

Round the mould the gel was clear, which struck him as quite thrillin’.

Staph. aureus was scuppered. Eureka! Penicillin!

Honor

The first Speakeasy of the year and the first at the new Park Tavern venue had “Honour” as the theme. This somehow took me back to the mid-1960s of “Goldfinger” and the Avengers.

Honor

Now Honor Blackman, who is she?

She once turned down a CBE.

In “Goldfinger”, she was Pussy

a self-assured and brazen hussy.

James Bond thus had Pussy Galore

(See what double entendre’s for?)

So,  is she Honor without honour?

She’s got principles. Good on her!

She says, “I’m a republican.

The Honours system I would can.

If you don’t quite see what I mean,

let’s just mention Sir Philip Green

or take the Beckhams, OBE.

Now there’s a fashion travesty.

Mick Jagger sings and Mo’ can run,

Knighthoods bestowed on anyone

who jiggles hips or hits a ball,

for me that makes no sense at all.

They already make a packet

kicking ball or swinging racket.

With money stashed offshore just right,

some wave the flag, are dubbed “Sir Knight”.”

Honor, I’ll join you, if I may.

in our Republic United K.