Tool-based Story 3

I gave lots of money to Children in Deen
(I didn't want people to think I was mean)
They used it to build an orphanage for kids,
The contracts going to the highest bids
But the materials those companies used were sub-par
Hence them falling to bits, spilling oil everywhar.
If only they'd used better quality controls
And hadn't got distracted by playing bowls.
But they made the best of a bad situation,
Until they could smile with modest elation
They sold their story to some local rag
Whose sales were already starting to flag.
Nobody read it and nobody cared.
But it turned out OK, 'cos the shed got repaired!
It could once more be useful for storing the mower,
Some shelves had moved higher and some had moved lower
There was even room left for the spade and the hoe
Quite a happy ending, as tool-based stories go.

Laureate Schmaureate

O waxy man, O waxy man,
How lovely is your frying pan?
You've got the cash for good cookware
You earned it at last year's book fair
But that was before you forgot how to read
After which it became very taxing indeed.
It got slightly easier two ours in,
Especially with earplugs to cancel the din.
In fact it was peaceful, and reasonably quiet,
So I recommend that one day soon you try it
Unless you're in the mood for something more raucous
Like a fiery address at a subversive caucus
In that case you'd better call George Galloway
Though he often responds in a most shallow way
So he won't be much use if you don't stroke his ego.
He'll just mope about and go wherever we go.
And who needs a man with such lack of direction?*
This poem is amazing. Who needs Andrew Motion?

*It should be noted that this was misread as 'devotion'.

Predator

His eye was aglint as he bore down on his prey
He started running faster, just in case it got away.
Eventually he cornered it, between a pair of trees,
And with one punch he rendered it aquiver on its knees.
He yelled out his demands at it, and lo, it acquiesced
And once it had fulfilled them, it humbly confessed
That all it ever wanted was somebody to love
And maybe a balloon to soar up above
To make all the people look tiny and antlike
In their cars and their taxis, their BMX stunt-bikes
Popping their wheelies, and getting sick air
And always regretting the gel in their hair.

Hypersquare dream

There once was a cube called The Cube
It starred with Philip Schofield on the tube
But of Gordon the Gopher there was no sign
Neither on the telly, nor online
Instead, it fell to Edd the Duck
Who bummed it up and said "oh no".
But it was caught by Captain Hook,
Who's just a character in a book
So that's when I knew I was dreaming
I was so angry my ears were steaming
For I can't stand rapid eye movement
So I just stay awake; a marked improvement.

Picnic Hazards

Picnics are truly amazing,
With scones and with teacakes with raisins
The one danger is wasps may attack you.
And your boss might feel compelled to sack you.
I suppose it's a risk that you take
And it's your fault if any bones break.
Thank God we've got the NHS!
And the BBC! And a BMX!
I popped me a wheelie, and got some sick air
I then got some hair gel and spiked up my hair
I have to admit it, I looked pretty rad,
Though the cut and the size and the stitching were bad.

On Confusion

There once was a creature who came from the moon.
I think that he's going back there quite soon.
He got rather confuzzled by our earthly ways
Like the silly names we give to days.
Our architecture was most confusing
The reverse balconies were most bemusing
The only view was back in at the foyer
Suddenly nearby appeared Verne Troyer
(You know him, the midget who's in Austin Powers)
(You know, on the stairs in the car-parking towers)
(You see them, on banisters, at the exchange)
To the untrained eye they can look quite strange.

Humphrey's Lament

Being Humphrey can be taxing
Though often it's relaxing -
There's very little work to do
When Ed Balls' done it all for you
Though he's probably not done a very good job
He's been quite lazy, and a bit of a slob
He's cut lots of corners, his standards are low,
But the number of mourners was roughly zero.
His circle was tiny; his friends were made-up
Over tea he had no company but the cup
He decided speed dating was the way to do
(Ironic for one so incredibly slow.)