A bit Of Toilet Humour

[the_great_she_elephant]

A bit of toilet  humour to cheer you all up. I wrote this in response to a prank photo that circulated showing empty shelves in Busselton Library .

The Literary Dunny

You’ve heard no doubt, the news about

The current bog roll panic,

With fights in shops and calls to cops

And bogans going manic.

Me old mate, Blue, was in a stew

He didn’t find it funny,

That all around no shop he found

With bogroll for his dunny.

He sat alone upon the ‘throne’

In silent desperation,

But then at last there came a blast -

A flash of inspiration.

“Well b*gger me,” he cried with glee

“I’ll fix those theivin’ crooks.

To wipe me crack I’ll just change tack –

And get meself some books.’

With footsteps light at dead of night

He hit the town library,

And helped himself off every shelf

With speed extraordinary.

Then home he crept while others slept

Triumphant and quite blasé

And quickly took each stolen book

And stashed them in the khazi

“And now” he said “they’ll all be read

By me, when on the loo

And when I’m done, to clean me bum

I’ll use a page or two.

I’ve books that that tease and books that please,

And books would shock a parson

But, stone the crows, who sees or knows

Which words I wipe me a**e on?

The library’s shock to find their stock

So cruelly depleted

Was plain to all – as was their call

That justice out be meted.

The South West Times deplored the crimes,

And called for retribution

But sly old Blue had left no clue,

So dodged a prosecution

The only bloke in on the joke

Is me – and there’s no money

Could tempt me to dob in Old Blue

And his literary dunny.

[twyngwyn]

keep em coming!!!

[twyngwyn]

Does Blue escape jail....does he become prime minister??

Can't wait for next instalment

[the_great_she_elephant]

                        Coronaphobia

I really think this morning I should just have stayed in bed,

This wretched social distancing is doing in my head.

I’m grumpy and I’m grouchy and I’m p*ssed off through and through.

And I’ve lost all inspiration for the annals of Old Blue.

My husband is no help because he’s just as bored as me,

He’s flicking – with the sound off – through the channels on TV;

But there’s absolutely nothing there to cheer or to inspire us

Each station’s full of nothing but corona-bloody-virus.

Of course, there’s work around the house that I could do, I guess,

The bathroom needs a good clean and the kitchen is a mess,

The laundry basket’s full, there’s dirty dishes by the score,

But I can’t get up the energy to do a single chore.

So the floors remain unvacuumed and the dishes stay unwashed,

While I wallow in self-pity for the freedom I have lost

I’ve had it up to here folks, I’m frustrated and bored sh*tless

Which is why today’s instalment’s so inane and, frankly, witless.

(Don’t panic folks, I promise you, I’m really quite okay

My sense of humour hasn’t really faded right away,’

But when you’re stuck indoors and feeling fed-up to the bone,

It can be quite therapeutic just to have a good old moan.)

[the_great_she_elephant]

Old Blue Writes His Memoirs.

Although just now Old Blue and I are both at home alone.

We like to keep in touch each day, if only on the phone.

There’s not much news, but still we seem to find enough to say,

And we give each other tips on how to pass the time away.

There’s lots of little ways to keep yourself from getting bored,

But this morning Blue came up with one that really left me floored.

“I’m goin’ to write a memoir – me life history” He said.

“For otherwise it will be lost as soon as I am dead.

The things I’ve done, the things I’ve seen the tales that I could tell

Would fill a dozen volumes – and I’m pretty sure they’d sell.”

Remember that God-awful time back in the last big drought,

When a bushfire came a-roarin through and almost burnt us out

And the fireys couldn’t reach us – they was stuck way down the track -

So I stood there with me garden hose and held the **bleep** back?

Or the day McSweeney’s bull got loose and terrorised the town,

And tried to make a shish kebab of poor old Mrs Brown,

Till I whipped me off me driza-bone and waved it at his head -

And he swung around and snorted and then charged at me instead.

And like a matador I kept that bugger on the run,

Until the vet could get there with his tranquiliser gun.

I smiled at all the stories – I’d heard most of them before,

And every time he’d told them they’d been stretched a little more.

“Blue,” I said “I reckon that you’re on a winner here.

Those anecdotes of yours, they just get better year by year

When word gets gets out your writin’ ‘em, you won’t have long to wait

Before a hoard of publishers are rattlin’ your gate.

And once they’re printed, stone the crows, You’re goin’ to make a squillion

The bookstores will be goin’ mad – they’ll sell a bloody million.

Trust me, old mate - I say this without fear of contradiction,

That book will be a truly monumental work - of fiction.”

[the_great_she_elephant]

      A (Temporary) Farewell

With sadness I address these words to you

A small confession I’m obliged to make,

From penning the adventures of Old Blue.

I really need to have a little break.

No fresh ideas are buzzing through my mind,

And though I’ve struggled till my brain is addled

I find myself in something of a bind,

My mojo somehow seems to have skedaddled.

And I can’t afford to let my good mate down.

I’ve far too much respect for the old bloke,

To undermine his well deserved renown

With clumsy rhymes or an unfunny joke.

So till my mojo’s back– I’m working on it -

You’ll have to make do with this little sonnet.

[the_great_she_elephant]

              I'm b.a.a.a.a.a.k

I can't promise you'll be getting a new one every day now,  but here's one to be going on with.

             Old Blue Does Facebook.

Old Blue decided Facebook was a place he ought to be

So he went out and he bought himself a second-hand PC

He made some friends and joined some groups and answered a few polls,

But then, alas he fell into a nest of spiteful trolls.

They were talking of the virus but, as Blue explained to me,

“There was not one single troll who with another could agree.

They were sneering, they were jeering, they were calling names and such’

And their language – well it would have caused a bullocky to blush!

Most thought it a conspiricy a fiendish, cunning plan,

But deciding who to blame was where the arguments began.

Some claimed it was those lefties, with a Marxist world in sight,

“A fascist coup,” said others, “perpetrated by the right.”

One lot thought China caused it as a population cull

It was Trump, declared another, China’s power to annul.

They ranted and they argued, there were insults hurled around;

There was not a single point on which they found some common ground

Both sides agreed the future now was looking pretty bleak.

The government was far too harsh - or far too bloody weak

The economic packages were just a waste of space

Too much/too little cash was being thrown around the place.

“That pittance wouldn’t put a decent shirt upon your back.”

Or, “The bludgers will be beggin’ their employers for the sack.”

There were even some dissenters there who argued black and blue

That the whole thing was a beat up – really no worse than the flu.

“And that” said Blue, “was when I made me little observation -

And tried to put some commonsense into the conversation.

‘Let’s just forget the politics and who’s to blame,’ I said

And take a stand together to confront this thing instead.’

Well, how they stood together, mate! Me name was worse than mud.

They found their common ground and started howlin’ for me blood.

I was called an effin’ gob**bleep**e and a sanctimonious **bleep**

One **bleep** even told me that he thought I should be shot.

Well I let rip with me language called each troll an effin’ mug.

Then hit the finger smiley and just pulled the effin’ plug.

But I’m up to here with Facebook, mate, me postin’ days are through

You’d get more commonsense sense out of the monkeys at the zoo.”

And that concludes the story folks, Old Blue was so upset

I doubt he’ll ever venture back onto the internet.

The last post that he ever made, as far as I can tell,

Was to advertise his PC on his local “Buy And Sell’

[the_great_she_elephant]

I have to thank my granddaughter for this one. 

                   Old Blue Gets A Dog

Old Blue’s full of surprises, yesterday he rang me up,

And “Guess what, mate,’ he told me, “I’ve just got meself a pup.

I found him by the roadside - thought at first that he was dead.

Some mongrel sod had shot him -  heaven knows knows how far he’d fled.

Looks like the slug just clipped him though, I nursed him through night

And this morning he’s quite chirpy, so I think he’ll be all right.

“That bullet must have spooked him though, he seems a little feral,

But I reckon I can tame him – and I think I’ll call him Errol.

I swent to  Coles and grabbed two cans of dogfood from their shelf,

Then drove to Blue’s to  see this new arrival for meself.

I found the little fella fast asleep on Bluey’s bed.

“He’s been goin’ mad all morning and he’s tuckered out” he said.

He’ll be much calmer once I’ve had a chance to train him up,

They say you need to start ’em young, and he’s still just a pup.

He can’t be more than five months old or just a little better

And by the looks of him, I’d swear his sire was a red setter.

I looked down at the puppy curled up snugly on the bed.

His coat was undeniably a ‘setter’ shade of red.

Full grown, he’d be a big dog and a handsome one as well,

But maybe quite a handful – I guessed only time would tell.

As I watched, he gave a start, then opened wide his eyes,

Leaped off the bed and stood as though befuddled with surprise.

Then whoosh, out of the bedroom, straight across the kitchen floor,

And into the backyard he fled, right through the flyscreen door.

I was just about to follow him, when Old Blue shook his head,

“He’ll be OK, the back gate’s locked, he can’t get out,” he said.

“And once he’s settled down a bit he’ll come back in – you’ll see.”

He filled his new electric jug . “Let’s have a cup of tea.”

We drank it in the kitchen with some toast and vegemite.

And discussed what might have made the little fella so uptight,

But we‘d barely touched on cruelty and animal abuse,

When a noise erupted from the yard like all hell breaking loose.

We dashed outside to see what could be making all the row,

And, folks you must believe me when I tell you here and now

There is absolutely nothing so hysterical and manic

As a dozen backyard chooks in a demented state of panic.

The chookpen was in chaos – there were bodies left and right

And survivors flapping wildly in a vain attempt at flight

Their wings beat at the wire-mesh in a frenzy of despair

And a hideous cacophony of squawking filled the air.

The pen was thick with feathers from the ceiling to the floor

And amidst the mess stood Errol – with a chicken in his jaw.

The little sod looked **bleep**-a-hoop - I swear he wore a smirk,

And as poor Blue stood gobsmacked and surveyed his dreadful work,

He wagged a red and bushy tail. That’s when it dawned on me

How seriously we’d both misjudged the bugger’s pedigree.

It was really very simple when you stopped to think through,

But how the hell, I wondered, would I break it to Old Blue,

The poor old bloke is going to get the nastiest of shocks

When he learns his little puppy is a full grown bloody fox.

[not_for_sale2025]

I had images in my head throughout, especially one at the end of a fox with a sly smirk. LOL

[the_great_she_elephant]

Today's offering comes to you courtesy of Davewil1964 - it was his idea.

             Old Blue Crosses The Border.

To comply with social distancing, we’ve been confined to regions,

And the government, they’re telling us, is now employing legions

Of officials to patrol the roads, enforcing this strict order,

And making sure nobody tries to sneak across the border.

This left  Blue in a quandary, for a mate, he’d come to hear,

Was in self isolation and was running out of beer.

He’d decided that he ought to to do a favour for his mate

And make a quick trip over there to drop him off a crate.

The bloke lived on a farm about an hour’s drive from Blue.

But the new restrictive border drew a line between the two.

And Blue was quite concerned that if he crossed that boundary line

He’d be staring down the barrel of a very hefty fine.

But then there came to him a simple answer to the game.

His friend had a good neighbour – Joe McSweeney was his name.

And McSweeney’s lower pasture ran alongside a small byway,

Blue wouldn’t need to run the risk of driving up the highway.

He could turn off on that side road without raising an alarm,

And follow it quite safely right up to to McSweeney’s farm.

It wouldn’t take a minute then to drive in through the gate.

And up the gravel pathway to the farm of his old mate.

I had some doubts about this plan, but Blue he wouldn’t listen,

And early the next morning he set out upon his mission.

But when he reached McSweeney’s gate he got a nasty shock,

The old boy had secured it with a very heavy lock.

Now normally of course, Old Blue would not have found it hard,

To complete on foot the journey that would lead to his mate’s yard

But his spirits sank a little as he stood beside the road

For that beer he had to carry now seemed quite a heavy load.

But promises are promises – you can’t let down a friend

And slow and steady wins the day. He’d get there in the end.

So slab in hand he managed to negotiate the gate.

And up the gravel track he marched with slow, determined gait.

No way, he thought, could any bugger call Old Blue a sook,

So if that slab grew heavier with every step he took,

And if his arms were aching, why it hardly meant a thing,

Compared to all the pleasure that his gift was going to bring.

Rather than presenting it in person to his mate.

To comply with social distancing, he’d leave it by the gate,

Then ring the bloke to come and look and when he came and saw ……..

….. All at once Blue’s reverie was shattered by a roar.

He turned and nearly fainted, as he realised, too late

Just why old Joe had put that hefty padlock on the gate.

With bloodshot eyes and thundering hooves and roaring at the full

Across McSweeney’s paddock charged McSweeney’s massive bull.

For seconds Blue stood frozen, then adrenalin kicked in.

No lumbering lump of beef was going to make a corpse of him.

Be buggered if he’d stick around to give the brute his fun.

He dropped the slab of tinnies and he took off at a run.

His speed across the paddock emulated Ussain Bolt.

He cleared the five barred gate in one gold-medal-worthy vault.

With lightning steps he reached his car, leaped in and locked the door,

Fired up the engine, revved it and slammed pedal to the floor.

And as he fled the venue of his near extermination

The thwarted bull could only watch and bellow in frustration.

And there you have the story, folks. Blue’s made it very plain

He’ll never ever try to dodge the Border Force again.

So unless McSweeney rescues it, I very sadly fear,

His old mate’s going to have a rather long wait for that beer.

[springyzone]

Brilliant, as always!! thanks for sharing with us, it is good to have a laugh.