Elvis McGonagall
Elvis McGonagall - poet, twit and armchair revolutionary does the rhyming this week. Find out more about him on his website.
Unwanted Gests (sic)
Double D-List drama queens
Persil teeth and tango tans
Desperately seeking
Fortune, fame and fans
They carry on up the jungle
They fandango round the floor
Turn-off the idiots’ lantern
Tune in to Radio 4
The Woman In Black
2 megalomaniac managers
22 petulant millionaires
50,000 prejudiced partisans
One man with a whistle’s nightmares
Sclerotic faces scream abuse
Oh who would be a ref?
Running backwards up the pitch
With the grace of Nureyev
You need the skin of a rhino
To be a guardian made of stone
‘Cos even the teams’ furry mascots
Pump out testosterone
It’s pushing ‘n diving, effing ‘n blinding
Handbags ‘n headbutts a la Zidane
The boys’ playground needs feminine discipline
It’s not a job for a man
Then they’d be on their best behaviour
They wouldn’t have to be warned
For football hath no fury
Like a woman referee scorned
She’d tell Wayne he is not The Messiah
“You’re a very naughty boy, do you hear?”
And if he stamps his feet, then he’s off – to bed
With no tea and a clip round the ear
There’d be no more vulgar terrace chants
They’d sing with style and finesse
“Who’s the lady in the black?
Who’s the lady in the long black dress?”
But look at that! She’s wearing a cloak and a hood!
Remarkable! The referee looks like a witch!
Some people think it’s all over
It is now. There’s a druid on the pitch
I Will Survive The Spy Who Didn’t Love Me
Once upon a time lived three brothers
Harold and Robert and James
James was particularly handsome
Very good at philandering games
Mrs Bond was proud of her sons
Harry and Jim and Bob
Jim worked for Her Majesty’s government
In a tip-top secret job
Where Miss Moneypenny drudged in the office
Sunk in a Slough of Despond
‘Til she heard the burr of an Edinburgh brogue
“You look like Judi Dench. The name’s Bond. James Bond”.
[played in this poem by Sean Connery. Rather badly]
“Oh James!” said Miss Moneypenny, smitten
“You, me, fireplace, dinner and wine?”
“I’d prefer a vodka martini” said James
And she knew then they would never intertwine
Sure enough, at the drop of a hat he was off
Duty called – it was Pussy Galore
Leaving Miss Moneypenny waiting
Alone with her filing once more
“Thunderballs to Double 0-7!” she yelled
“You only live once – I resign!
I’m going to become a brain surgeon
With a garden of sweet columbine
Where I’ll run through tall grass with six corgis
On a tennis court turning to hay
For I may have decided to pull up my roots
But I’ll never just shrivel away!”
