The sad and unfeasible tale of Kevin the travelling gnome

.
Whilst digging one day in the garden I chanced to encounter a gnome.
It was drab and dejected and battered and in need of the comforts of home.
I filled up a basin to dunk it
and wash it, with Fairy of course,
then I fed it on fresh fruit and junket
as it started a mournful discourse.
“I was gnome-napped.” It said. “As a young gnome.” Tears touched its painted blue eyes.
“And I travelled the world in a suitcase across wide seas and strange foreign skies.
Wherever I landed my picture
would be captured in bright Kodakchrome
and, with never a comment or stricture,
would be sent to my far away home.”
“I drew followers on Social Media with an internet page of my own
And my captors grew every day greedier as they monetised ‘Kevin the Gnome’.
The revenue growth was astounding,
from calendars, posters and books,
with Hollywood offers abounding
on account of my Gnomic good looks.”
“Ah, but fame, as friends go, is capricious. It may drip honeyed words in your ear
yet say other things, callous and vicious, when it thinks you unable to hear.
My image was used and co opted,
it was turned to political gain
plugging causes I’d never adopted
from the side of a bus or a train.”
“As such causes were shown to be toxic, their proponents withdrawn and recused,
the establishment made me anoxic and stifled my voice with fake news.
I was pilloried now, in the papers,
to ridicule ‘Kevin the Gnome’
and accuse him of scandalous capers
became quite the national syndrome.”
“My captors were thrown into panic at the thought of my imminent fall,
their behaviour erratic and manic, they disposed of me over your wall.
I was dazed and disorientated,
having bounced off the side of the shed.
My lovely red hat was truncated
And the dog did a pooh on my head.”
As I dig every day in the garden I look over at Kevin the Gnome.
He’s repaired and repainted and pardoned and the pond at the back is his home.
Home is always the place to come back to,
be it never so humble or poor.
He can fish here as long as he wants to
and Kevin need travel no more.

If (with apologies to Rudyard Kipling)

If you can turn a profit when the others
are losing their's and don't know what to do.
If you won't hesitate to sell your mother,
and maybe to throw in your sister too.

If you can drink all night and not get plastered
or dine with customers that you just hate,
and not let on that they're all total bastards
('til after you have screwed them on the rate).

If you can meet with brokers or with vendors
and tell them that they'll make a pile of loot,
when all the time you've only one agenda,
to make them pay for drugs and prostitutes.

If you cock up by going long on Cable,
when everyone says Sterling's going to fail,
and know that you are going to be able
to blame it on IT if you should bail.

If you can whinge when you receive a bonus
that buys you an apartment in the Cays,
complaining over Bolly with your cronies
that Labour's brought the country to its knees.

If you find words a bit too complicated,
if you communicate in grunting sounds,
if you think evolution's over rated
and when you walk your knuckles scrape the ground.

If you spend all the time you should be working
surfing the web or talking about sex,
if you could teach a MasterClass in shirking
the chances are that you trade Spot FX

The IT Magnate's song

When I was a lad I had no pals
And my fear of girls was simply pathological
I sat at home feeling quite forlorn
And I polished up my knob while watching Cyberporn
(Yes he polished up his knob while watching Cyberporn)
I polished that knob assiduously
And soon became an expert in Adult IT
(Yes he polished that knob assiduously,
And soon became an expert in Adult IT)

I reached the age where I had to work
And gained employment as an office clerk.
I filed and labelled the important docs
And I stuffed a lot of letters in the letter box.
(Yes he stuffed a lot of letters in the letter box)
I stuffed that box so frequently
That my head got stuffed with ideas for Adult IT
(yes he stuffed that box so frequently
That his head got stuffed with ideas for adult IT)

So I started in the business of sending out spam
From adverts for Viagra to Nigerian scams
I handled the spread of dodgy of Malware blockers
And girls who want to meet you (with amazing knockers)
(Girls who want to meet you, with amazing knockers)
I handled those knockers so skilfully
That I soon became successful in Adult IT
(Yes, he handled those knockers so skilfully
That he soon became successful in Adult IT)

Of Global distribution I became a master,
However fast you sent it, I would send it faster,
I’d broaden bands and I‘d cut down hits
And manipulate the status of the parity bits
(He’d manipulate the status of the parity bits)
I handled my bits so adeptly
That I became the Global leader in Adult IT
(He handled his bits so adeptly
That he became the Global leader in Adult IT)

I thought myself smart, and so astute,
But now it seems I’m nothing but a prostitute.
For my latency skills have opened a door,
And, passing through, I turned into a corporate whore
(Yes, passing through he turned into a corporate whore)
For all of my principles abandoned me
And I took a position in FX IT
(Oh he’s as evil as he can be,
For he took a position in FX IT)

Come all you dabblers in CyberPorn
And stay in the profession for which you were born
Focus all your skills on harmless wankers
And never get involved with the investment bankers
(No, never get involved with the investment bankers)
You’ll be as happy as a man can be
In the noble, upright calling of Adult IT
(Yes, you’ll be as happy as a man can be
In the noble, upright calling of Adult IT)

Super Massive Fat Bloke by Erato

Ooh baby, do you know what's for supper?
Ooh baby, where's my Toblerone?
I've eaten all the dips and Pringles
How long before the pies are done?

Ooh,oh,oh I need a little bite,
Ooh, oh, oh, my pants are getting tight.

I raid the cupboard in the dead of night
And eat all the biscuits, so I'm super massive.
I sneak downstairs in the dead of night
and I cook sausage rolls, that's why I'm super massive.

(Super Massive Fat Bloke)

Ooh Babe I don't share food with no one,
Ooh babe I won't share food with you
If you try to take a chip from my plate
You're going to loose a finger or two.

Ooh, oh,oh, don't try to pull that shite
Ooh, oh, oh, we'll end up in a fight.

Doughnuts, pasties and banoffee pie,
I can eat half the contents of the Super Market.
Fish and chips and a breakfast fry,
I eat the lot that's why I'm Super Massive.

Sausages in bread rolls.

Saucissonnet

Oh Sausage in your crisp and gleaming skin
crackling and spitting there upon my pan
How savoury sweet the flesh you hold within
How needful to the nourishment of man.
In breakfasts, in a sandwich or a roll,
with ketchup or mustard as it take my mood.
No words suffice, your wonders to extol
Oh spire atop the temple that is food.

Yet perilous it is for such as me
To worship at your culinary shrine,
For, in reward, nought but obesity
and raised cholesterol levels will be mine.
My doctor is a cold and heartless brute
to say that I must nibble upon fruit

Legions of the faithful.

Each Sunday morning, as the iron bell tolls
to gather to itself the Christian souls
a congregation, supplicant, arrives
and, parking across gates or blocking drives,
passes, with downcast gaze, the old church doors
(leaving behind their ill parked four by fours)
to lift their voices to the lord in praise.
While we, poor heathens, trapped inside a maze
of Rovers ranged across the narrow lane,
are captives in our Sunday homes again,
and cannot, ‘til the final blessing’s given
proceed with the more secular side of living.


On Holy days and high, when young folk wed,
At gatherings to commemorate the dead,
they pour in like an automated horde,
the products of Toyota or of Ford.
With revving engines and with smoking tails,
alarms that raise aloft their banshee wails
if anorexic wren or buzzing fly
should land upon the car (or pass nearby),
polluting, with their noised, the valleys peace
but drawing no attention from the Police.


To celebrate the season of good cheer
The motorised column steps it up a gear.
Mothers and children flock from near and far
in Chelsea tractors, following the star,
while fathers, like the Magi, follow late
in vehicles more designed to carry freight.
Creating, thus, a second metal row,
They grab their digi cameras and go
rushing to capture pictures of their brood
and entering into the festive mood.
While we, the locals, raise this song aloft,
“Come not here, all ye faithful, bugger off.”

Recession Rap by The Nerd MC's

I said Wham Bam , here comes Sham
He’s a denim clad Adonis and he don’t give a damn.
(Say what?)
He’s out on the town, gonna disco down
Shake it up, shake it down like a party clown.
He’s J. to the O. to the K. H. I.
Add a Y.A. if you can,
You get the Joker man.
He’s the master of mirth with the disastrous girth.
Hey step back Jokerman,
Next up’s Dan.

Well I’m Hip Hop Dan and I’m a tiny little man,
I’m a twister and a Turner and my own biggest fan.
I said Hotel Motel, which way should I swing?
(Say what?)
Well I’m a headed for the top and I ain’t never gonna stop
Until I get there and shout Yo!
(I said yo-oh
Yo-oh,
I said Yo-oh
Yo-oh)
I’m desperate Dan and I’m a ladies man
So don’t you diss my ho
‘Cause I’m a mad, bad geezer,
Got a body in the freezer
I was killed by a malteser but I’m back.
If you catch me in the noddy
I’ve an illustrated body
and some downy fluff around my crack.

Hey, my name is Ed, and I’m a devil in the bed
And you know that I don’t fire no blanks.
Since I learned about women, when my tads go swimmin’
They don’t do it in no Sherman Tanks.
Got a touch of halitosis and a lot of neurosis
But the girls are always hot for me
I’m a considerate lover, consider no other
‘cause I’m guaranteed to find the G.
I said G spot, Tea shop, which one will it be?
I can send you into spasms with terrific orgasms
Or I can take you for a cup of tea.

We’re the Nerd MC’s
You be down on your knees
When you catch sight of our big TV’s
We got PS3’s
And Nintendo Wii’s
And vast collections of DVD’s
But we never got girlfriends ‘til our thi-hir-tee’s
(Say what?)
No we never got girlfriends ‘til our thi-hir-tee’s.

We’re fat cat bankers on the prowl,
Come on all you ladies and hear us growl (grrr)
Since the Credit Crunch
We’re the new Wild Bunch.
We’re mad, we’re bad, we’re gonna blow
We’re totally rad and we’re dangerous to know.
The economy’s screwed, so we’re real cool dudes
And women can’t resist our attitude.
So Hip Hop Hap to the recession rap
We ain’t never had it so good,
Tip Top Tap, it’s all gone to crap
But that fine in the Banking hood.
‘Cause we’re bad Mo Fo’s and we’re gonna foreclose
Gonna call in all our loans,
We might be sub Prime, but it’s party time
‘Cause we’ve just discovered girls.