Definitely Limericks by Rory Ewins


If it’s Latin you want on your journey, ya
Should designate Ireland Hibernia.
I’d try to explain,
But expect that the strain
Would result in my getting a hernia.

Why would anyone Irish agree
To a Scottish Hibernian F.C.,
Or in shorter form, Hibs?
Because Embra called dibs
On their Latin name. Makes sense to me.

Hibernian Football Club was founded in 1875 by Irishmen living in the Cowgate area of Edinburgh (or Embra, as it’s known in Scots). Nowadays the Hibees (also known as the Cabbage, as in Cabbage and Ribs, rhyming slang for Hibs) are based in the Leith area of the city. Their arch-rivals are Hearts.

He’s known for his kind generosity,
Despite his (some find) hideosity.
The fact he’s so ugly
Leaves some feeling smugly
Superior—blind animosity!

A Russian, while looting a fridge,
Sees a missile fly over the ridge—
A HIMARS-launched rocket—
And grasps, to his shock, it
Is headed towards the Kerch Bridge.

The M142 High Mobility Artillery Rocket System developed in the late 1990s for the United States Army has proven invaluable to Ukraine in the summer of 2022, destroying multiple enemy ammunition depots in the east and south of the country. At the time of writing, the Armed Forces of Ukraine are almost within HIMARS range of the recently-built Kerch Bridge connecting Russia to occupied Crimea.

Those hipsters and hepcats are hip
To this vessel for spirits: they quip
It makes any cat frisky
If fingers of whiskey
Should slip between hipflask and lip.

His intention’s to purchase on wax
Every note Coltrane played on the sax;
To get horn-rims, a beard,
And some shirts that look weird:
It’s hipsterism, dude, to the max.

Wanting to buy or own a song or album on wax is 21st-century music-aficionado lingo for wanting it on vinyl, rather than on a wax cylinder. Even the most dedicated hipster has to accept that Blue Train ain’t gettin’ no cylindrical audiophile remaster for graphophone.

My cuz in the music biz says
That the shiz in a vid is hi-res—
Viz., as sharp and as clear
As this Madness clip here.
Take a squiz at the fuzz on that fez!

Viz. (videlicet, that is to say), a hi-res (high-resolution) vid (video clip) is the shiz (the best, the coolest), sez my cuz (cousin), a fan of the ska band Madness, known for their Egyptian headwear (fezzes), the felted finish of which (fuzzy) he would often admonish me to take a look (squiz, Aust./NZ slang) at.

Douglas Adams’s Hitchhiker’s Guide
to the Galaxy
trilogy I’d
Call a mandatory read
For all humans—indeed,
Once Earth’s gone, what you’ll need on your ride.

DNA’s classic comedy radio series (1978), books (across five instalments of “the increasingly inaccurately named Hitchhiker’s Trilogy”, 1979–92), TV series (1981), text adventure game (1984) and eventually movie (2005), follow its hero Arthur Dent and his alien companion Ford Prefect after their escape from Earth immediately before its untimely destruction. Ford introduces Arthur to the electronic guidebook The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, published by Megadodo Publications of Ursa Minor Beta, which dispenses sage advice throughout his travels. Eventually, Arthur learns the truth behind the destruction of his home world...

Deep Thought was invented to tell
Them the answer to everything—dwell
On the Universe—life!
It created some strife
When he said it would take him a spell.

“How long?” his inventors inquired.
His response wasn’t what they desired:
He said, “Seven-point-five
Million years. You see, I’ve
Got to think about it.” They expired.

Their descendents returned to Deep Thought,
Who had pondered on all he’d been taught.
“The answer’s,” he boomed,
“42!” “We presumed
There’d be more to it.” All that for naught.

But wait! “What’s the question?” he asked,
Then with building another was tasked:
A computer called Earth,
Which, for all they were worth,
Its true owners, the mice, shrewdly masked.

Ten million more years slowly passed.
The question? Now ready at last!
Then Vogons appeared;
Said the Earth would be cleared
To make way for a bypass, and... blast.

There’s a colony here in my hive
Where my bees and their offspring all thrive.
Full of honeycomb—see?
When I smoke ’em, they flee
And then swarm around me. Man alive!

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