Friday, April 08, 2005


Me shooting a gun in Utah. A picture entirely unrelated to the following post.

My posting of the limerick for Claire (scroll down a few inches) has got me thinking about limericks in general. To my mind, the ideal limerick should be wry, smart-arse and probably obscene. My model for limericks, indeed, is this one:

While Titian was mixing rose madder
His model posed nude up a ladder
Her position, to Titian,
Suggesting coition,
He ran up the ladder and 'ad 'er

Which covers all the bases, I reckon. My own efforts in this vein are not as impressive. The other day I did come up with this (while passing Lyon on the TGV):

There was a young couple from Lyon,
Who couldn't find things to agree on,
Despite this estrangement
They enjoyed an arrangement
On Wednesdays he used her to pee on.

Not bad, I believe, but not brilliant either. For true drunken stupid brilliance, I have to cast my mind back fifteen years, when a friend came up with my favourite 'amateur' limerick of all time.

To understand it, you must picture the scene. A bunch of lads are in the Lake District, on a weekend jolly, doing coke and getting pissed. The B&B where we are all staying has a rather frumpy landlady, called Mrs Knight, the subject of some rude speculation by me and my friends Nick, Al, Rupert, etc. On the last night we drink just a bit too much beer and snort just a bit too much powder, and start making up uncouth limericks. The final one, by my friend Nick, is this:

One day in the Lakes Al said,
'Who's going to give me some head?'
Down came Mrs Knight,
And said 'What a sight!'
And Al came all over her tits.

I think for hilarious badness and ribald surreality, that takes the biscuit. But maybe you had to be there. And on coke.

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