Potter's Poems.

A  SPECIAL ONE

Ohh Mrs!! Titter ye not! How very very dare PSG!

Jose,Jose, in your 4 grand jacket
Prowlin’ the line ,must be on a packet
A gesture a sneer well fancy that
on order from Harrods here’s your jesters hat
Croydon’s top casuals havin’ it large
a lone metro traveller easy to barge.
See they love you they love you wohh-wwwohh
The Hugo Boss fatties, next stop Savlle row ?
To your credit, you slagged them, which I really admire
nearly as much… as I like your attire.
I’m growin’ quite fond of your Frankie Howard pout
next time when you,re miked up just take a time out.
Cos the clichéd pundits Messer’s Lineker & co
drone on like a space cake minus weed to much dough.
You don’t fool me, you love playin' the fool
just like all the great showmen you’ve only one rule.
Keep the punters happy, yes you’ll get my vote
and when xmas is comin’ please send me that coat.

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ITS GEAR!

The Horribly long-oval faced twat, JC (jowl'd  cunt) Himself

Not really sure wot it is I hate most

the name of the show or the moronic hosts.
Talk about pistons and the strength of a horse
A nuclear strike I’d happily endorse
Middle age toffs, Henry n’ Henrietta,
Baying like sheep things can only get better
says the one who resembles a sad seventies  clone
or a geography teacher still living at home
Then comes Thomally Sebastian  and tomboy little sis
named after her brother, oh heavenly bliss!
Yes she’s Ttom with two tt’s, our fave nanny did choose
to close to our horses she plied them with booze.  
Paps said “bestiality to me, that's just fine  
It’s a oneness with livestock, simply devine”!
By now dear readers it’s so plain to see
I’m more for Lambrini than Lambourgini
Stout yeomen, three stooges , I need to redress
It’s the top gear audience I fuckin detest

POTTER brings Poetry & Prose back to our Pages

The New year means Percy Shelley takes a bow in the form of Ins n Outs so pin back your lug‘oles me old suckers....It’s a POEM!

 

Put the Vera’s Down and pay attention.

 

Keith LEMON muzzies and North Face onezies.

Hard case uncles and plastic face grannies,

Who go to town and talk about graft and blow off Dubliners now that is a fact.

Orange faced aunties standin’ around lookin’ down coked up noses of people on brown.

 

‘He was alright our Joey didn't rob from his own,

till he got lifted on a visit to Rome

with the league of welldoers from Scotland of Road, two-ed up wid a bag ‘ead from somewhere out east (ALBANIAN? the YEMEN?).

Or was it the priest who introduced bobby?

Or was it the beast who sat in the corner and grinned like a tool,

driving manically by his infant son’s school,

sayin’ “is rite lad is rite lad”

 

How many times can a repeat offender repeat his lines?

How long is a piece of string? Is the obvious answer!

Einstein, my friend, just wot is the answer then?

 

There goes the nephew driving too fast in,

not so sleepy, Dovecot reeekin’ of grass. ‘lad lad lad!

Yes the song remains the same:

me bird’s doin’ me head in. She needs to refrain

from Jeremy Kyle blags…

I’m not goin’ on, I have my credibility to think about.

 

Experimentation. I hope that's a word?

Some FLOYD ‘ead said (or was it a bird?

‘Twas a long time ago in the dole in town,

a steamin’ metropolis - white meetin’ brown,

on the dole in LIVERPOOL town,

Were north met south and queued in a line for our coins off Thatcher.

Make sure you’re on time, cos they’d have you

spluttering and blamin’ your ma,

or your da, or the broken down car.

 

Renshaw Hall, the place it was called, biggest in Europe. Fuckin massive! One weird place. Bizzies sittin’ off, ex wives, ex pats, ALL WAITING WAITIN……………..

Then off to the bier keller if u got the holies of holies: THE EMERGENCY GIRO.

 

Renshaw Hall Blues.

(IT’S MORE OF A LAMENT. IT MAY HELP IF YOU SING IT,LIKE I GIVE A  FUCK)

((Sorry, I really am only messing… Here goes....))

 

 

I’ve got those Renshaw Hall blues, late again.

I got nothing to lose, yer soft cunt!

You have delayed giro.

Renshaw Hall BLUES...

Hey Mr Postman! Sometimes you forget

on your visits to Ladbrokes, the nice girl in the vets

(with whom you’re madly in love). The whole street knows

the affair around canines ‘Why don't u propose?’

See we’re not really arsed, you committed no crime,

Just please Mr Postman get my giro on time.