SPAM-Bots or Crack-Pots?

SPAM-Bots caught in a webEvery now and then, I have a trawl through the “Comments” that have been snared in this here blog’s SPAM filter. I’m often bemused by the nonsense that is sitting there and wonder where on earth this stuff comes from and whether it is generated by a SPAM-Bot somewhere, or actual human beings. Presumably, if it is the latter, then those individuals must have churned the comments in their mother-tongue through google-translate. Then just dumped the resultant garbage on the internet, with no idea as to what it actually means in English.

I’ve decided to compile some of my favourites into a blog post. Waste-not want-not and all that. The original comments are in blue and I’ve followed them with what would have been my response, if I’d approved the comments, having assumed them to be genuine:

  • Truly, regarding a certain couple of them, We can find not less than 6 different hues. From the quite lower, for the only which is talking to the soil, there exists inflammed (an extremely discolored tone than it). Just a little deeper upwards, we’ve white-colored, which often adorns top of the component of the only real; the particular area for the only receives joins into the shoe’s chief overall body. Atop a segment the location where the toes and fingers enter, together with around the plot the location where the Nike mark generates (and also some other spot on the again in the trainer), now we have magenta. There does exist pink, on this occasion your lighter in weight color from it, inside a repair into the backside of this athletic shoe. After that there exists stained, to the spots the place that the shoe lace cracks have to be identified and also light-blue, which usually shades the two Nike Beat at Nike 6. 0, as well as initial two of shoelaces your dunk comes along with.

Oh, I am so sorry to hear about your shoelace cracks – they sound very painful, considering how close they are to your dunk. I wouldn’t put your toes and fingers in either, if it’s inflammed, disclolored, stained and spotty. Especially as you’ve had your pink athletic-backside repaired so recently. But do keep talking to the soil and while you’re at it – it’s probably best that you keep taking your medication as well.

  • What’s up to every body, it’s my first visit of this webpage; this
    webpage consists of remarkable and actually fine material designed forr readers.

What’s up to your body too! I agree that this website contains some remarkable and actually fine material. But, I’ll have you know I have more than forr readers, more than fyvve possibly – if I count you…

  •  Noten is in favor of some cool sense, while Lauren is fond of the retro with the aristocratic.In the street, many people also fall in love with the glasses. Almost of them will be so cool and attractive by following the simple style and wearing the classic glasses.

Uh – yeah, I guess so. Give my regards to Lauren and Noten.

  •  When the whole world is full of Ray-Ban girls and boys, if you want to show the personality, the round-framed sunglasses are a good choice. They keep pace with the retro fashion at present, and look very funny, or they can achieve the effect of changing the wood.

I couldn’t agree more – it’s Ray-Bans for me every time! They’re the only option – next time I want to change my wood…

  • Lichtung upper structure, the middle of woven hollow-like, similar to modern sandals. 187 Astana tomb of the “Go Ladies” in a few maid also wore one of these hemp shoes, hemp shoes, the Tang Dynasty that people generally wear shoes.

Thanks for the tip – I’ll definitely consider wearing hemp sandals, if I ever go and visit the tomb of the Tang Dynasty Go Ladies”. I reckon, they’d also go very well with my Ray-Bans, when I’m changing my wood too. Surprisingly, I’ve noticed that people generally wear shoes – even today  – go figure…

  • Ӏf ѕome oone needs to Ьe updated ѡith most սp-to-date
    technologies afterward Һe must be visit this
    web paǥe and bbe սp too date every day.

Rright-oon broothér! What a fantastically astute observation. I’m so glad you posted this comment on my article on writing Limericks – pure genius – But then again, it’s probably because yoou must bbe soo up too date with updated technologies.

  •  Aw, this was a really good post. Finding the time and actual effort to generate a superb and informative article… but what can I say… I put things off a whole lot and don’t seem to get nearly anything done.

Well shame on you! – you filthy procrastinator! Though in all fairness, you seem to have found plenty of time and dedicated outstanding amounts of effort to posting spam comments. So, it’s not nearly as gloomy as you make it seem. By the way, your SPAM would’ve been more convincing if you hadn’t referred to  a poem about picking up dog sh*t as a “superb and informative article…”

There’s a definite fashion/glasses theme to the majority of these and the scores of other SPAM comments I’ve received. Perhaps, this is the universe’s way of telling me that I need to get my eyes tested and invest in a new wardrobe.

Anyhow, hope you have a good weekend and may the Muse be with you.

Posted in About, humor, humour, Readers Writes | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Test-Card Doodlebug


There will now follow a temporary interruption to the broadcasting of this blog.

Normal service will be resumed shortly.

The fact is, I’m taking some time to concentrate on completing and publishing 21st Century Verse. So, I won’t be around to respond to any comments etc for a little while.  But, I’ve taken the liberty to schedule some posts anyway. So, with any luck, you won’t actually notice much difference – even with nobody at the helm. Modern technology can be a wonderful thing…

Have a good weekend folks and may the Muse be with you.

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Office-Fever (a parody of Sea-Fever by John Masefield)

Office-Fever a parody of John Masefield's sea-Fever

I must get back to my desk again, this lunchtime has flown by,
And all I ask is that if I’m late, I won’t catch the boss’s eye;
And if I’m ill and white as a sail with limbs and body shaking,
And I call in sick (third time this month), my boss won’t think I’m faking.

I must get back to my desk again, and complete my tasks with pride.
Because if I don’t, I’m pretty sure my leave request will be denied;
And all I ask is that someday it’s acknowledged I’ve been trying,
And I get the promotion for which Smith and Jones are vying.

I must get back to my desk again, to the constant corporate strife,
I hope and pray my meagre pay can feed my obese kids and wife;
And all I ask is that today, the damned printer won’t keel-over,
And that retirement comes swiftly, so this nightmare can be over.

This here is my attempt at a comic poem about modern office-life/career. If you think you can do better, I’d love to read your work (email it to me: You never know, your poem could end up in 21st century Verse. But you’ll have to be quick, as the doors close for submissions after this weekend.

May the MUSE be with you…


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The – Spanish Slug – Invasion

Spanish Slug devouring Hostas. Wearing Sombrero and clacking castanets.
My garden once was green and lush.
Until on mass there came a mush
of leaf munching slimy things.
Vegetation annihilating thugs…
 …an invasion of Spanish Slugs.
I’ve tried to stop them but I can’t.
They’ve decimated every plant.
In my shrubbery they dine like kings.
Sombrero wearing baronets…
…proudly clacking their castanets.

MySlugRavagedHostasUnfortunately, this poem is based on fact. Yes, it’s true, as evidenced in this photo of my hostas (the inspiration for the above doodle), these randy little moluscs have recently laid waste to my garden. Though, I hadn’t realised that they were invaders from foreign shores until I read this News Article. Hence my use of very outdated racial stereotype references in my poem. My apologies to my European cousins.

Have a good weekend folks & may the muse be with you. I’m off to lay some more beer traps…


Posted in Comic Verse, Funny Poetry, humor, humour, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Doodlebug – Halloween Special

Romeo, Romeo – Werewolf art though Romeo!

Werewolf4I’m sure old Mr Willy S’ would appreciate this…



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That Guy At The Bar by Trinity Nicholas

That Guy At The Bar a funny poem by Trinity Nicholas

That Guy At The Bar by Trinity Nicholas

Johnny, that joker, is delusional.
He made himself up a life.
He shut the door on reality
and on six kids and a wife.

He harps about funky adventures
and love stories sweet and sad.
He misses his sultry mistress,
whom he never in the first place had.

Some nights at the bar he’s a fireman,
and some nights he’s a war vet.
He has a long list of famous friends,
all of whom he’s never met.

He tells tall tales of storming sea shores.
He’s been a marine.
He’s seen everything
in his fabricated wars.

If you’re sick, he knows what’s ailing you.
He knows just what you should take.
He’s saved millions of lives, you know,
back when he wasn’t a lifeguard at the lake.

Johnny’s had top missions from corporations.
He’s trusted by CEOs.
He’s recognized in the finest hotels,
and everywhere else he goes.

Johnny knows the best way,
to perform nearly every task.
and if you want the mysteries of the world revealed,
just find Johnny and ask!

Johnny could get any woman he wants.
He could hold down any job.
But stability would make him lazy,
and Johnny doesn’t want to be a slob.

Johnny, that joker, can teach us
that in life you don’t have to achieve.
Just spew your lies with confidence,
and someone, some where, will believe.


This poem was submitted by Trinity Nicholas from West Virginia.

Trinity is a social worker, writer, member of West Virginia Writers and a three-time winner of their People’s Choice Award. She has written for the Charleston Daily Mail and has been published in several poetry anthologies. Trinity also has a blog, where you can sample some of her writing:

One of Trinity’s other poems has also been shortlisted for inclusion in 21st Century Verse. There’s still a couple of weeks left to submit your poems for consideration too…

Have a good weekend folks.


Posted in Comic Verse, Funny Poetry, humor, humour, Poetry, Readers Writes | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Parody – Mondays Child

A funny alternative to Monday's Child rhyme

Monday’s child will slap your face,
Tuesday’s child is a disgrace,
Wednesday’s child stamps on your toe,
Thursday’s child just won’t go,
Friday’s child is most unforgiving,
Saturday’s child won’t work for a living,
And as for the child that’s born on a Sunday –
– they’ll tell you lies and steal your pay.

Recently, my eldest became obsessed about which day of the week he was born on and how many times his birthday had fallen on that same day throughout his short life. That episode, brought the Mondays Child nursery-rhyme to mind. I was then inspired to write this parody, after suffering brattish temper-tantrum outbursts, from one then the other of my two lovely children. At the time it seemed far more accurate than the saccharine-sweet nonsense of the original. And I say that even though I was born on a Sunday. Which coming to think of it proves what a crock it is – I’m not gay for starters! or wise, but I did have fair hair – before it all fell out.

By the way,  I love my kids really (I had to put that in – you never know one of them might read this blog one day).

Just in case your not familiar with the original, here it is:

Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go,
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child must work for a living,
But the child that’s born on the Sabbath day,
Is fair and wise and good and gay.



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A funny poem about facebook

A Funny Facebook Poem About Facebook

I post on my wall when I’m Happy.
I post on my wall when I’m sad.
I post on my wall for no reason at all,
and upload snaps of food I’ve just had.

I’m ever so popular on facebook.
I’ve got nine-hundred-and-eighty best friends.
What? – no, of course I’ve not met them all!
That’s a custom our deep-bond transcends.


For those that prefer to listen to the spoken word, I’ve recorded this poem and you can listen to it here: Chirbit


This is my stab at a social media light-verse piece. If you think you can do better, I’d love to read your work (email it to me: You never know, your poem could end up in 21st century Verse.

Come-on, I’ve set the bar pretty low…



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The Farting Contest – as published in Anon


The Farting Contest  (Anon)
I’ll tell you a story that is sure to please,
Of a great farting contest at Burton-on-Tees
Where all the best arses paraded the field,
To compete in a contest for various shields.

Some tighten their arses and fart up the scale,
To compete for a cup and a gallon of ale.
While others whose arses are biggest and strongest,
Compete in the section for loudest and longest.

Now this years event had drawn quite a large crowd,
And the betting was even on Mrs. MacLeod.
For it had appeared in the evening edition,
That this lady’s arse was in perfect condition.

Now, old Mrs. Jones had a perfect backside,
Half a forest of hairs with a wart on each side.
And she fancied her chances of winning with ease,
Having trained on a diet of cabbage and peas.

The Vicar arrived and ascended the stand,
And thus he addressed this remarkable band.
“The contest is on as is shown in the bills,
We’ve precluded the use of injections and pills.”

Mrs. Bindle arrived amid roars of applause,
And promptly proceeded to pull off her drawers,
For though she’d no chance in the farting display,
She’d the prettiest bottom you’d see this day.

Now, young Mrs. Pothole was backed for a place,
Though she’d often been placed in the deepest disgrace
By dropping a fart that had beaten the organ,
And the poor Vicar, old Jonathon Morgan.

The ladies lined up at the signal to start,
And winning the toss, Mrs. Jones took first fart
The people around stood in silence and wonder,
While her wireless announced gale warnings and thunder.

Now, Mrs. MacLeod reckoned nothing of this,
She’d had some weak tea and was all wind and pride.
So she took up her place and her arse opened wide,
But unluckily shit… and was disqualified.

Then young Mrs. Pothole was called to the front,
And started by doing a wonderful stunt.
She took a deep breath and clenching her hands,
She blew the whole roof off the popular stands.

That left Mrs. Bindle, who shyly appeared,
And smiled at the clergy who lustily cheered.
And though it was reckoned her chances were small,
She let out a winner, out-farting them all.

With hands on her hips, she stood farting alone,
And the crowd stood amazed at the sweetness of tone.
And the clergy agreed without hindrance or pause,
And said, “First, Mrs. Bindle… now pull up your drawers!”

But with muscles well tensed and legs full apart,
She started a final and glorious fart.
Beginning with Chopin and ending with Wing
She went right up the scale to God Save the King.

She went to the rostrum with maidenly gait,
And took from the panel, a set of gold plate.
Then she turned to the Vicar with sweetness sublime
And smilingly said, “Come up and see me some time!”


If you liked this poem, you will be pleased to know that it can be found in good company in my most recently published book – Anon.

Anon is available to buy now at Amazon UK and Amazon USA

The Kindle version of Anon will be FREE for the next 5 days. That’s from 3rd October until the end of the 7th October.

So go get your copy while it’s still hot off the press… and won’t cost you a bean.

The paperback version will also be HALF-PRICE for the same duration (Normal Price: UK £8.49, USA $13.99, Europe €10.74).

Have a great weekend folks.



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An Ode To Your Nightie

A funny poem about a nightie

Flimsy, flouncy little nightie
Which doth cling e’er so tightly
To your pendulous, saggy tits
And your smelly hairy bits
Keeping all just out of sight
Through the hours of the night
Covering things so unsightly
Thank god for that little nightie


I’ve been having a little rummage in my archives this week, due to a sudden onset of nostalgia (it happens from time to time – I find that giving in to it is the best option and it soon passes). For some reason this poem grabbed my attention and inspired me to get my doodle-on.

It’s worth bearing in mind whilst reading it, that I had in mind that it should be recited in a deep Scottish accent. I think I wrote this in the early 1980’s and it was inspired by a poem called “Dear Flo” or something similar. Which I believe was either by Spike Milligan or Peter Cook/Dudley Moore and was probably the reason for the Scottish accent thing too.

Have a good weekend folks.

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