Bit early but still…

Just checking the submission process 🙂

Well, that’s my excuse…

Shirl was full of Christmas cheer,
turkey, pud and gals of beer.
So stuffed was she, she couldn’t shift
her bulk around, and Len got miffed.
Carting mince pies to and fro,
from dawn to dusk on the go
he’d been, and now he’d had enough.
Hungover, feeling pretty rough
he kicked Shirl hard, in the head.
Instead of dragging her to bed
he slung her out, in the flurry
and buried her in quite a hurry!
By which time he was so done in,
he drowned himself in Gordons gin,
gorged himself on cake galore,
then passed out cold, on the floor.
Shirl poor sod, despite her shrieks,
wasn’t found for many weeks.
So Len now spends all of his days
banged up in HMP Strangeways.


© andrea 2023
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Just another Christmas day in West Bromwich! Hope you’re well Andrea.

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Well, that’s my excuse… 🙂

This is really quite good. Your rhyme and a consistent 7/8 syllable line count are excellent, with only one exception. Very slapstick funny stuff!

I do seem to recall a lot of your poems/tales end in disaster for someone, and that Len’s a moron and a meanie, isn’t he? Had to look up HMP Strangeways to understand where he ended up. 🙂

My absolute fav lines:

Shirl poor sod, despite her shrieks,
wasn’t found for many weeks.

Elicited some LOL’s, this did! Well done, Andrea! Moi, bel xx


Hi Andrea. Enjoyable light hearted take on a serious subject – metre fine too but for a few syllable glitches. Mitch


Back at you with The Christmas Cashier – the same theme but fromt he storeworkers’ point of view!


He he he only just discovered this lurking as it was under ‘just plain daft’
Up to your usual standard. Omg trying not to think of the dreaded Xmas
Mind you, the way the world is going , anything could have happened by then
Alison x

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