Folly Ollie




No Sparklers

Nil fireworks from that display
Not even tepid Catherine wheel!
For spinning Jenny dozed away
After Champagne with costly meal.


Been said this girl was dynamite
But as I stripped and dimmed the light
Her snores extinguished my desire
And so she'd pissed on my bonfir
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Fergie Time

 

 

For 26 years I had this lurgy

Scouse victims knew it as Fergie

From Govan via Aberdeen

Spread south to ‘Theatre of Dreams’

 

Cajoled depression, nausea,

Anger, pain, high blood pressure,

Caused vomiting and incensed rage 

Unwelcome pest stole centre stage

 

Nightmares, cold sweats in dead of night

With Ferg it was a constant fight

A virus cruelly undeserved

That life sentence which I have served 

 

 

Football Fantasies (Team Names) 

 

From ‘50 Shades of John O Shea’ 

Via ‘Zinedine Kilbane’

‘Chamakh my Bitch’ and ‘Hajduk Spliff’ 

‘Eto’o and the Bunnyman’

 

 

‘The Juan that Mata’s’ and ‘Moves like Agger’

‘Fan the Fart’, ‘Why Always Me?’

‘Jason Lee’s my Florist’ ‘Notinmymum’s Forest’

‘Ledley King’s Bionic Knee’

 

 

‘Your Mum’s Athletic, ‘Athletic Pathetic’

And ‘FC Super Frank’

‘Substandard Liege’, ‘Yaya Toure’s wage’

‘Off for a Hasselbaink’

 

 

‘Sex and Drugs and Graham Poll’

‘Ninja Skrtels’, ‘Redknapp’s Bung’

With ‘Bayern Bru’, ‘Not a Kalou’

‘Nice to Michu’, 'Park Ji’s Hung!’

 

 

Flu Mare

 

Just blown my conk, but more flows down,

No boggers left, use dressing gown

Salt waterfall is endless stream,

Throat, ears and head prove fickle team

 

Just can’t leave bed, mere thought is like

The Tour De France on punctured bike

My thoughts are warped and dreams so sick

Cyclopped girlfriend attacks with brick

 

And as I lay drifting away

Eroded brain’s in disarray  

For two plus two now equals five

Convinced that Rod Hull’s still alive

And Tony Knowles was first on moon

While Douglas only liked to spoon

Now Karlovic rides Shergar well

Jim Davidson’s funny as hell

 

Jim Davidson’s funny as hell???

Brain’s gone too far, myth I dispell

For even though my head’s in spin

That burk could never make me grin

 

'Shaun William Wordsworth'

 

 

I wondered lonely in a club,

While others tripped o’er thrills and spills

When all at once under a tub

I saw a host of ecky pills

Beside the bogs, just left of bar

Each shimmering pearl, white as a star

 

Continuous as a dark bassline

Or nights that follow days

They filled the floor with glowing shine

Emitting their warm rays

Five hundred saw I at a glance

Tossing their heads to dirty trance

 

Some skirts besides them danced, but they

Outdid the shortest skirts in glee

Your poet had them all away

And from the scene managed to flee

I treble-dropped without a thought

Then sold a load, new car I bought

 

For oft when on the couch I lie

Hungover or in vulgar mood

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude 

                              For then I get a glass and fill                                                                And see off one more ecky pill                                                                                                                   

 

POFthetic

 

 

 

The day I signed to P.O.F, a part of my soul died,

When I saw who’d messaged me, I broke down and I cried

Then blondes, brunettes, and ginger-nuts came pouting into view,

But photos at least five years old, oh how they mislead you

 

Had first and last the other day and while she had same face,

The bar was thin, her arse was wide, just wasn’t enough space!

We talked a while, the usual bile and then we had some scran,

She ate for two, her arse it grew…could not fit in my van

 

And so I blow the whistle on this short not sweet career,

The online game is proper lame, from clutches I will steer

Good luck my friends, safe fucks my friends, may laptops bring you cheer,

Now I must pray, I’ll keep at bay those nightmares of her rear

 

Grand Prix Sex

 

"At times" she moans "it's like Grand Prix!

Gears 2 and 3 I rarely see

It's 1 to 4, so soon to 5

A high-octane, knee trembling drive

 

Before the race you must check oil,

Lubricate the gears or else you'll spoil

The bodywork, smoothness of ride,

Performance level, and more beside....

 

It's slow and steady wins the race

Tortoise beats hare, and in your case,

The hare's a cheetah hunting stag

And champagne's popped pre-chequered flag"

Ironing Bored

 

Oh crumpled hills are an evil curse
Though cleaning is hell, you’re ten-fold worse,
Oh mounds of creased wool’s a spiteful verse
As iron gets hot my life gets worse

Twelve crinkled pants all eyeball me,
From this ugly scene, I wish to flee
Those wrinkled jeans smirk insanely,
This iron in hand’s no weapon for me.

I heard the T-shirts goad and jeer
‘He’s so inept’ one evilly sneers,
Now Y-fronts burn and confirm my fears,
The worn hanky holds a lifetimes tears

 

 

'Jack and Ian'

 

 

 

A beautiful Asian nightclub queen's
Gargantuan bulge had not been seen
By Jack as they left arm-in-arm 
Deep husky voice caused no alarm

 

In boudoir, lips entwined as one
Between the sheets a lifetime's fun
Then came the morn and out from thong
Flopped Ian's 8-inch secret schlong

         'SOCK ROCK'                  MR UMBRO BOULDER

Midst teenage years, one friend stayed true

Through sticky times a friendship grew

Neath bunk bed solace found in you

A bond secured with homemade glue

 

This pal was seldom far away

When he came round I loved to play

For fleeting visits he would stay

Once popped round 5 times in one day!

 

My silent, punctual, ‘Countdown’ mate

Would often find me in a state

In the numbers round I’d take the bait

By conundrum vision wasn’t great

 

Sad at the end you looked forlorn

Our friendships toll had aged and worn

Your colour changed from white to fawn

Soft gentle ways now sadly gone

 

That mournful day in late July

I binned you after one last cry

A rigid, steely last goodbye

Wondered if my tears would ever dry

 

'(C)ANAL STREET'

A routine walk, turned to despair

From Oxford Road to St Anne’s Square

Wrong short-cut saw my mood deplete

Up the tight passage onto Canal Street

 

Was before midday, yet place reeked sleaze

Toilet trading’s, poppers, STD’s

Black cab cruised past, but I had no brass

Was a total fucking pain in ass!  

 

  My Limerick

 

 

 

 

An incontinent gent from West Ealing,

Used to wake in the night with damp feeling

He took a Blue pill 

Gave carer a thrill

Now he's dry but his ceiling is peeling