Definitely Limericks: Fa-Fd
“Father Pat,” said a pretty parishioner,
“Do you wash using fabric conditioner?
Why, your cassock’s divine.”
Which would all have been fine,
Were his next impulse not “proposition ’er”.
“Yer face fungus, matey, looks weird,”
Cried the yobs to the hipster. He feared
That a toadstool had sprouted
From his nose, till they shouted,
“Why the hell doncha shave off yer beard?”
I’m a fact-checker, checking the truth
Of that stuff we call “news”. I’m a sleuth
Who gives journos the terrors
By finding their errors,
Driving writers en masse to vermouth.
The mythical country of Faerie
Sounds charming, but principally scary:
Here magic folk dwell,
And here fairy-tales tell
Of enchantments which snare the unwary.
Melting sugar, then spinning till airy,
Gives a floss that’s as light as a fairy
And melts on the tongue.
It’s a hit with the young,
Whose devotion to sweetness is scary.
“You don’t know of Falco?” I frown.
“An Austrian star of renown.
Here, allow me to play us
His ’Rock Me Amadeus’...
Sad der Kommissar isn’t in town.”
Austria’s best-known pop export of the 1980s sadly died in a car accident in 1999, while planning a comeback. His first international hit “Der Kommissar” was the first seven-inch single I ever bought.
It is far to the Faroes, I fear;
Only Iceland and Shetland are near.
Be mostly what people
Run into when travelling here.
A new leader signs callous decrees,
While apologists seek to appease.
As conditions get tougher,
And fascism comes by degrees.
The fascist thinks nothing of crushing
Political enemies, brushing
Aside all conventions
And laws. His intentions
Are clear: do his worst, without blushing.
Would you like more dessert, or more wine?
Help yourself to a chocolate—it’s fine.
But don’t pull a fast one
By taking the last one.
I’m onto your tricks, son—that’s mine.
If you fancy yourself as a Fauve,
Dab a canvas with red, yellow, mauve,
Move to somewhere in France,
Paint a whirling-round dance,
And you’re Henri Matisse now, by Jove.
For anyone Aussie who works,
Keep an eye on the number of perks
You’re provided for “free”:
You’ll incur FBT
On those company Mazdas and Mercs.
Fringe Benefits Tax.
In Britain, the letters F.C.
Stand for “football club” (soccer): e.g.,
Aston Villa or Reading.
If you’re thinking of heading...
I bet you’re a club devotee.
Takin’ care o’ me ’orrible teef
Brings me dentist a fair bit o’ grief.
I imagine he’s greetin’
His FDI meetin’
Wiv sumfin’ approachin’ relief.
The World Dental Federation, the Fédération Dentaire Internationale.