Cat and Dog

…He waited for cat to ask why today was not a day for napping.  Every day was absolutely a day for napping as far as cat was concerned, and she really was in no mood for dog this morning.


Dog barked excitedly as cat slipped into the room, rubbed herself against the leg of the old oak coffee table and jumped up onto the Old man’s chair.  She curled herself into a ball, took one look at dog and closed her eyes.

“Wake up wake up”dog barked his tail wagging wildly.

Cat opened her eyes slowly and sighed.

“What is it dog” she asked curtly, “I am rather tired and would very much like to take a nap.”

“A nap” dog exclaimed “oh no, no, no today is not for napping” he insisted.

He waited for cat to ask why today was not a day for napping.  Every day was absolutely a day for napping as far as cat was concerned, and she really was in no mood for dog this morning.  She had spent much of the night hunting mice in the barn and wanted to simply curl up and had no intention of asking why today was not a day for napping.

Dog waited for as long as he could, which was not long, before exclaiming excitedly. “It’s my birthday today cat, my birthday”

“And exactly how do you know that” cat asked impatiently.

“The girl with the fat bottom said so this morning” he barked spinning around his tongue lolling from his panting mouth.

“And exactly why do I care” cat asked shuffling into a more comfortable position where she lay.

“Oh because it’s my birthday of course” said dog.

“Yes I believe you said that already” said cat closing her eyes again.

“Oh cat please don’t nap” dog asked “it’s my birthday and birthdays are not for napping.”

“Let me ask you something dog” said cat he eyes still closed.

“Yes yes yes” dog panted. “Ask away ask away.”  He barked and sat quite still next to the chair where cat lay.

“What is a birthday?”

Dog cocked his head to one side, his eyes sparkling and his pink tongue hanging from his mouth.

“Well?” cat pressed.

“It’s…” Dog paused.  He barked and then exclaimed “It’s a birthday of course cat, my birthday!”

“But what is a birthday Dog” cat asked again, now sitting up so as to stare straight at him.  She did love him dearly but he was not the smartest of animals.

“Well…It’s …er…” Dog fell silent and looked rather sad.  “I don’t know” he said the grin gone from his face.  “It just sounded quite wonderful.  My very own birthday.”

“Oh silly dog” said cat making room for him on the farmer’s chair “jump up here and I will tell you all about birthdays and why today is indeed a special day.”

Ronovon’s Haiku Challenge: Spooky & Night

I do rather like a good haiku challenge. Gives me something to defile, because I do rather like a jolly good defiling.

2 words.  Haiku.  Simples.


Spooky chilling ghoul

at night hovers over me

god, put make up on


Spooky spectral fright

whispers in the dead of night

noise under my bed


Spooky tap…tap…tap…

light on cutting through the night

clown at the window


spooky child’s giggles

patter of feet in the night

baby died last year


RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #173 Spooky&Night


The army of dead babies

Not really sure where this came from. Not sure if the idea is cute or just creepy as hell.

If you cant sleep at all tonight

And you sense that something’s wrong

And the wind that whispers through the trees

Seems to sing a mothers song


Then close your eyes ignore the sound

Of gurlgles, howls and cries

Upon the wind as it blows through

The late October skies


Stay ‘neath your blanket warm and snug

Don’t open windows wide

For the army of dead babies

Will be marching by outside


Reminders of the choices made

The lives we took for granted

They seek once more a mothers kiss

On this night that’s most enchanted


From those we lost in pointless wars

To others cruelly taken

Not loved, not wanted, never held

And many more forsaken


With Ghoulish faces sunken eyes

A mother’s heart they seek

To take her back to realms of dark

To care for souls most meek


Into your homes they crawl inside

Mouths gaping and dead eyes

Foot of your bed they sit and wait

Soft gurgles tender cries


And should you wake and heed their call

Heart tender, cries to stem

Your soul they take and leave you dead

And drag you back with them


And from that day ‘til ages pass

And they again return to light

You tend the dead lost babies souls

That wander through the night


picture courtesy of pixabay

My rather oblivious travel diary

Ever been to Portugal? You should go – the weather is lovely, it has great food and the people are frightfully friendly.

I thought perhaps I would have another crack at a bit of a travel post being in Portugal as I am.  I read a couple of other travel post and saw the mix pf photos and descriptions of places and restaurants and so on and figured yeah give it a go.

I then realised the slight flaw in my plan.  I don’t actually really know where I am. Okay so I am in Portugal, I know where that is.  It’s near Spain.  And I know that I am in the Algarve, because my wife told me and best I can muster on that is that it is at the bottom.  That aside I don’t have a bloody clue.  I think the place has the word “Agua” in and there is a beach nearby but that is hardly a help.

We did go out for a walk down to the beach earlier today and spent the morning there and it was pleasant enough I guess.  It’s kind of out of season so it’s rather quiet but still warm enough during the day.  I still have no idea where I actually was though, like on a map.

Wherever it is I am I have nothing but good things to say about it.  The people are lovely, great weather, good food.  I’d recommend you go yourself but that would mean me knowing where I am.

I know I should look it up but what’s the point now that I am already here, and besides all the cocktails are free so I don’t actually care that much.  I will probably just sit around the pool for a few days and then get back on a plane and go home looking all tanned, somewhat fatter and feeling quite relaxed.  People will ask how it was and I will make something up that makes me seem well travelled.







Fatties in Space – Part 4

Okay so I know I said they were done but I miss them terribly so thought I would give it another go.

Part 1 is here, Part 2 can be found here and part 3 is right here.  It’s best to read those first if you like poems and such about fat people shagging in space.  Yes I know that’s not a real thing but its just a bit of fun.  Use your imagination. 🙂


Now they’re back down on earth and they ask “was it worth

all our savings are gone nothing’s left”

they then think of the lust and the force of the thrust

unencumbered by both of their heft


And they smile and decide with a grin rather wide

that they know then what needs to transpire

their large bulk to reduce, live on veges and juice

for their loins are still moist and on fire


So Pilates and gym in a quest to get thin

bums and tums every day before dawn

and he works on each ab somewhere beneath the flab

protein shakes he wolfs down with each yawn


And at night they pursue new positions or two

just to test what they might just achieve

head down butt in the air he grabs hold of her hair

a bit easier his weight he does heave


“Oh delight” he exclaims and the weight loss he blames

for the pounding he brings as she squeals

and her bottom he slaps and they take far more naps

cos they’re at it like bunnies twixt meals


So each morning she runs as he works on his guns

as she sweats bosoms bounce up and down

whilst her nipples are tender shes a wee bit more slender

but its worth it the way he goes down


Like hes eating a cake or delish philly steak

cos shes somewhat more flexi these days

and instead of meat pies he’s devouring her thighs

sometimes 2, 3 or 4 different ways


and shes quicker to squeeze into camel toe jeans

and there’s far less a chance of them splitting

he can see past his gut as she role plays a slut

and he watches her licking and spitting


then a salad for dinner and he says “you look thinner”

she replies “your man boobs look so small”

and he touches her hand says “I’m so glad I’m your man”

she smiles “I think we have it all”









The challenge was to write something in 61 words using the phrase “good and bad do exist” for the #MicroMonday Challenge


“So good and bad do exist because God made them?” Cassandra asked.

The vicar nodded.

“And the man who killed my daughter…” she paused waiting.

“He was evil.”

“But why create evil?  She was 5” she asked angrily.

“God moves in mysterious ways” he answered, a hand on her arm.

She brushed it off angrily.  “He sounds like a bastard to me.”


A few limericks of little note

There is one about a panda which could have been special but mostly it is just a bit dirty. The rest are just crass.

There once was a chap from Milan

Had a thing for his best mate Paul’s gran

Craved her wrinkly bits

And her pendulous tits

of her saggy old  thighs, a big fan


An irregular builder from Goole

Bought a potion to soften his stool

He strained with a large load

And his bowels did explode

Don’t gamble with farts, that’s the rule


A woman from Selby quite cute

Survived mostly on vege’s and fruit

But most every fart

Would result in a shart

Just imagine the stress of each toot


A lonely young chap from Uganda

At the zoo fell in love with a panda

Craved its fluffy white thighs

And it’s come to be eyes

Got him rather aroused, double hander!

Screw you haiku

So when is a haiku about a disease you picked up overseas not actually a haiku?

When I started this writing lark I was rather conscious of befouling the wonderful art of the haiku.  Mine are rather non traditional and as far as haiku go really only conform to the syllable construct.  Thanks to Colleen I have since discovered the senryu which is probably more akin to what I’ve been writing,

Senryu (also called human haiku) is an unrhymed Japanese verse consisting of three unrhymed lines of five, seven, and five syllables (5, 7, 5) or 17 syllables in all. Senryu is usually written in the present tense and only references to some aspect of human nature or emotions.

So without further ado a few senryu.  Given I’m enjoying some time in Portugal I thought I would write about diseases picked up whilst abroad.


Oh throbbing red lump

Wriggling underneath the skin

Bursts spewing spiders


Delights of Delhi

Arse on toilet head in sink

Don’t drink the water


Ladyboy surprise

Guess I;ll try anything once

Sphincter quite destroyed


Amsterdam delights

Toasted,  red lit buxom wench

Need penicillin


Who would be so stupid?

Proof that there the stupidity of some people knows absolutely no bounds.

I am quite sure you have asked yourself this question at some point.  let me show you how it works.

Surely millions of Americans will not vote for Donald Trump to become President, who would be so stupid?

The UK could feasibly vote to leave the EU, but surely not – who would be so stupid?

Makes sense right?  The Seemingly impossible and illogical happening because you simply cannot begin to understand what people are capable of despite what you yourself might think.   If the last few years have taught me anything it is never to be surprised and what people are capable of.

Let me give you another example.  I am currently writing this from Portugal, having headed off with the family for a late holiday.  Great place Portugal, lovely people, fabulous weather and only about three hours flight from the UK so perfect for a week away.

Imagine my surprise when, as we are checking in a family discover that they have come to the  wrong airport.  Serious.  I mean how the hell do people with enough brains to book a holiday to the Algarve manage to get all the way to the airport, laden with luggage, boarding asses in hand to discover that they have gone to Manchester airport instead of Leeds/Bradford airport.

Not only did they turn up at the wrong airport but so organised were they that they had booked a hotel nearby so that they did not have to travel to the airport the next day but were instead close by to allow them to sleep as late as possible and not face into getting up in the middle of the night to get there for the early flight.

On top of the hotel they had also made provision for parking for the week at the airport.  At which point did they not think to be absolutely certain which airport they were flying from.

Honest, what sort of people must these be?  The type that would vote for Brexit or Donald Trump?  Truly they must be a special kind of thick right?

I shall tell you what sort of people they are if you have not already figured out where I am heading here, they are people like my wife and I because that is exactly what we have done.  Instead of heading to the airport close to where we live we simply assumed that we were flying from the airport that we have used for our last 3 holidays and went there instead.  We printed off all the boarding passes and holiday documentation and at no point actually checked it.  We simply knew we had booked and paid for a holiday, that the flight left at 8.15am and that we needed to be on it.

It’s an expensive to make trust me, and £600 of new tickets and a few tears later we were on an alternate flight and despite missing our transfer we still managed to get to the resort just as the shuttle we would have been on arrived at the hotel.

You just never know what people are capable of do you…


Get down off there you’ll hurt yourself

As it turns out some people need to be told not to eat their lunch whilst sat on the toilet.

I am not such an oaf that I am unaware that I can at times be offensive.  At times I am intentionally so if I feel strongly that someone or some thing does not deserve to be respected or is perhaps so laughable that to expect anything other than my ridicule would be offensive to me.  Today I am going to touch on something that falls into the latter category.

A friend of mine works at the head office of one of the UK’s largest retail banks, and in his early years with the company getting to head office was seen as the holy grail and something to be aspired to.  The Bathrooms had real towels he tells me with some enthusiasm.  Having worked here for a decade now it is with some sadness that he explained to me that as he looks back things are not always as they seem.  The full scale of the decline of the dream was apparently summed up this week by the photo below which he took in the 4th floor bathroom and sent to me with the caption “This is how the Roman Empire fell”.


Now I realise that people are different, and I do my damnedest to be nice I really do but who the hell needs a sign putting up telling you not to stand on the bloody toilet seat to take a shit?  The health and safety risks are pretty obvious I would hope…Imagine you topple forward and knock yourself out and some poor bugger from the search party finds you arse up covered in nasty as he peers over the top of the cubicle.  No one gets over that.  And what sort of aim to you need to have to make a successful deposit perched atop a fragile plastic seat arms braced against the cubicle walls?  I am sure it’s quite an achievement when you nail it but the state of most public toilets would speak to the number of unsuccessful drop offs.

My point here though is not to ridicule each of the etiquette points, as easy as that would be.  Instead I’ll talk about what I did next because, to be honest, it just gets more and more surreal.  I googled “Why do people stand on the toilet to take a crap” and spend the next hour reading some of the most ridiculous shit (quite literally) I have ever come across.   Perhaps I am just ignorant and crass and a quite horrible human being for what I am going to write next, and if so then so be it – at least I know how to go to the toilet.

Did you know that there is one faith that believes you should enter the toilet with the left foot and leave it with the right?  What if you have one or no legs – you just go in your trousers?  Apparently some believe that if two chaps are taking toilet time in adjoining cubicles they should under no circumstances speak to one another.  Maybe it’s just me but I appreciate a little noise if I am in a public loo, it disguises all manner of things.  Oh and these two chaps are also not allowed to touch their genitals with their right hand, look at each others genitals or eat whilst evacuating themselves.  What sort of people must they be to need rules that say don’t eat a sandwich with your trousers around your ankles whilst looking at another mans balls whilst he’s on the loo.  Serious now…

There are at least two of the major faiths that insist on a little prayer after they’re all done, one of them apparently thanks their deity for “relieving them of the filth and giving them relief”.  This will be why there are children suffering with Leukaemia and aids not being divinely healed – god’s too busy helping a billion plus perch on top of lavvy seat to take a dump.

Now I know one should not believe everything one reads on the internet, but if one page I read is to believed then it is absolutely critical for a man to place a cotton bud the size of a piece of barley inside his penis to avoid drippage post urination. What sort of twisted bastard god insists on that?  Apparently you should perhaps walk, cough or lie on your left side to fully empty the urethra.  Have you seen the state of a lot of toilets?  So not only do you have a cotton bud rammed down the end of your manhood but your nice new jacket is covered in piss and shit from lying on the motorway toilet floor coughing.

Quite happy to retract or correct this if the internet is lying about all of this but I think maybe it isn’t.   Oh, and don’t get me started on that holiday I took to Greece once where I had to put the filthy loo roll in a basket next to the toilet.  Do you know how hot it is in Greece?  It’s frigging sweltering and …actually I will just keep that for next time.

I’m sorry but some days I really do despair…




Ronovan’s Weekly Haiku Challenge: Wrong & Touch

You know this will be inappropriate, I cannot help myself and I simply can’t deny the base creature that I am…

I can’t ignore a good haiku challenge.  It will be uncomfortable going I am sure, but when it comes to inappropriate touching I will inevitably say things  that some will not like.


Disciples of Christ

Touching children.   It’s not wrong

if no one finds out


breathless lusting touch

is it wrong if it feels right?

cousin got pregnant


He wants to touch you

wrong? No, no –  you asked for it.

Rapey old POTUS


Nope…all just a bit too easy.

RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #172 Wrong&Touch

Oh Donald…

You’d think Donald would give you an endless source of things to write about right?

If you’ve read me for more than a day or two you know I like to write limericks about Donald trump.  Yes I know he’s an easy target, but he provides such wonderful content that I cannot but want to.

Sadly though, it is getting harder and harder to do so.  Before I have had chance to write about something the orange baby has done he goes and does something else even more ludicrous.

He recently managed to be quite awful to a war widow expressing that her husband had ‘Known what he was signing up for’ when he joined the military.  Bad enough, but then he goes onto one of his stubby fingered twitter assaults to dispute the claims.  “Okay” I am thinking, “I can perhaps wax lyrical about this!”.  I then realised it was more than likely going to emerge that, by the time I pressed ‘publish’, he would already be on the twitter defending the alleged fake news that he had then thrust his diminutive  hand between her legs, licked her mouth with that little pink tongue of his and exclaimed “and now I know what I’m getting into!”

The world’s gone mad I tell you !

R Rated Limericks.

I am easily influenced, so here are some of the limericks you certainly don’t want your kids to read and to be honest – are rather crude.


Okay…I think they’re R Rated, I’m not really sure.  I mentioned the limericks I often don’t do here, and a number of you egged me on to do them.  So for the first time I’ll publish a few.  


There lived a young chap in Caracas

Who had swollen, enlarged quite red knackers

thought he’d best see the doc

who grabbed hold of his cock

and gave them a shake like maracas


A saucy fun temptress from China

spent her cash on a custom vagina

was so very good looking

but just no use for fucking

though she might just let you 69 her


A mechanic from North Carolina

had the hots for a big burly miner

left his family in shock

when he ‘fessed “it’s the cock

I just like it way more than vagina”


A vicar quite down on his luck

found a great way to make a quick buck

to the members he went

said “I need to pay rent,

for ten dollars I’ll give you a suck.”


A builder from Cork name of Shamus

had a monstrous and cavernous anus

in his bottom he placed

knives, forks, bowls cups and plates

now he’s massive on YouTube, quite famous


Sorry.  Kinda.

Some Saturday night limericks

A couple of limericks about adultery, one about a man with a small penis and one about middle aged spread.


Just a couple more limericks.  Been rather tied up back end of this week and I went to the pub last night so all I have managed over the last few days are the limericks I scribble in my notebook when I am on a conference call of some description at work…


A bank robber from Toremelinos

stole to get cash for his penis

to enlarge was his wish

but the products are pish

now he’s locked up in jail with men, heinous


‘My Friend’ watches far too much telly

middle aged, double chins and round belly

legs and arms got quite thick

now he can’t see his dick

and his man boobs they jiggle like jelly


A husband one day proclaimed dead

seems his wife shot him right through the head

on his phone saw a text

“Banged your sister, you’re next!”

really made quite a mess of the bed


Farmers wife with a craving for men

got caught cheating again and again

hub quite angry threw fits

then he chopped her to bits

fed her parts to the pigs in his pen

My Haiku process

I find it hard to do serious haiku, they intimidate me and make me feel rather insecure. So I write these instead…

When I started with my haiku I found it hard to do the serious ones, the ones about nature and such.  The proper ones.  Instead I have always tried to write funny haiku about serious things.  My process is pretty simple, I write down a load of serious awful things just like the list below and then do my best to write something that might bring a smile to your face.  Life can be rather serious, and it really is good to laugh.

  • Getting aids
  • Catching your wife cheating
  • The death of a family member
  • Being diagnosed with cancer
  • Catching an STD



caught aids from a toilet seat

that’s where it’s from right?


caught her red handed

He wants you to say his name?

say my lawyers name!


Granny passed away

to be fair she was quite old

inheritance, YES!


Grim outlook, cancer

live like there’s no tomorrow

cake for every meal


frightfully itchy

the colour just looks all wrong

why is it oozing?









My Twitter Challenge

Here’s the deal. 11 x 9 word tweets to compile a 99 word piece of flash fiction. Easy right?

Okay so there’s this fabulous flash fiction rodeo going on over at Carrot Ranch.  I have been putting in entries each week but you won’t have seen them because I can’t publish then until the judging is over.

The most recent challenge is great fun and is done through twitter.  So, if you have it you can follow it here.  The aim is to write a 99 word flash fiction piece in 11, 9 word tweets.

I don’t really do twitter other than to enjoy the odd perusal of The Donald and to tweet abuse to companies I feel wronged by should I receive terrible service.  It really has just passed me bye mostly.    I do send my Afterwards posts there but only seem to have gathered a following of 14 people

Anyway, let’s see how I do shall we.  See you in the twittersphere perhaps (I am told that’s a thing).

P.S.  Having posted them they look weird and my wife now thinks I have a date with a chap from the coffee shop as only read the first one.  Oddly she seemed okay with it.  #liberated.



Joseph was too young to remember what had happened himself, and those left behind never seemed to want to speak of it.  All he needed to know was that it was over, they had won, and they needed to rebuild. 

I wrote this for a photo challenge, but I misread and its a week early I think.  I will link to it when it’s time 🙂

Joseph adjusted the focus on the telescope ever so slightly as he made himself comfortable in the large battered red leather wing back chair.   He looked briefly through the eyepiece then pulled a small red cloth from his pocket and carefully wiped the lens.  Clear nights were still such a rarity and even though the war had ended ten years ago the remains of the destruction still hung in the air as a reminder, obscuring sun and moon alike.

In recent years, with the skies occasionally opening up to reveal their hidden treasures,  he would  head up to the old ruined house on the hill across the valley, and dragging the telescope he had salvaged in one of the endless destroyed homes he would clamber over what was left of the stairs to the top floor.  Where once there had been bedrooms now only weather beaten and rotting floor boards remained, and where there had once been a roof now there was only sky.

It had taken some effort to get the chair from the library up to the top floor but when the grey occasionally peeled back it was well worth it.

“You be careful up there” his Aunt would always tell him, and he would always tell here that there was nothing to be worried about because the war was over, they’d won, and the visitors were long gone.  She remembered the war better than he did though,  and he would often lie awake at night and hear he tossing and turning in her sleep– reliving the horror that had resulted in nearly 6 billion dead.

Joseph was too young to remember what had happened himself, and those left behind never seemed to want to speak of it.  All he needed to know was that it was over, they had won, and they needed to rebuild.

He knew that they had been invaded, that they had fought valiantly and that countless numbers had been lost on both sides.  He also knew that when the United Governments  detonated the nova bombs at the heart of the visitors fleet in a last desperate stand they not only wiped out the entire visitor command and control network but they vaporised much of the southern hemisphere.

Right now though all he really wanted to think about was the moon.  He loved the stars, they filled him with hope and excitement but it was the moon that stirred his soul.  Another rock, drifting through space and so very close, you could almost touch it.  His Aunt had told him how people had once lived there, before the war and he would often imagine himself up there, looking down on earth.

As darkness fell he sat back in the chair and pulled an apple from his pocket.  It wasn’t much but it would have to do as dinner thought.  He wasn’t hungry really, he was too excited.

As the sky turned dark, the stars poking through the inky blackness the Moon began it’s journey across the sky.  His heart leapt as he realised it was full.  He put his eye to the viewer and focussed and it grew large and clear.

He watched it travel across the sky, adjusting occasionally to ensure it stayed clear and in focus. He sat quite still as he traced the lines across it’s grey surface and each new meteor crater filled him with excitement and he hastily scribbled notes with a stub of a pencil on scraps of paper he unfolded from his shirt pocket.

As he studied the surface he thought, for just a moment, that he noticed a flash of movement.  He finished the last of the apple, wiped the lens again, and refocussed.

“Probably just something on the lens” he thought, but it was no mistake and there was something in the top quadrant of his view.  He adjusted again, pulling back in an attempt to focus on the object. As the dark blur became clear he could make out something angular, something man made.  He was too close still, and again he adjusted, whatever it was was closer that the moon.

Joseph squeezed his eye to the viewer, heart racing.  It was unmistakable.  Moving through space, back lit by the moon, were a small fleet of ships circling a larger vessel.  They were back.

Some utter filth

For the sake of common decency there are things I would love to write but don’t. Here’s a sneak preview as to why…

If you’ve read me for any length of time you know I love limericks.  Why?  Because they’re such whimsical fun.

Mostly they just kind of appear in my head you know, without much effort.  I will think of a theme, find a couple of words that rhyme and they just magically appear.  Or maybe I have a start or an end line that makes me chuckle and I take it from there.

Now, there are a lot of limericks I do not write that rattle around brain.  Some are just awfully filthy and/or just go too far in terms of good taste and seem rather crass.  The English language is somewhat to blame too, because how am I supposed to not think of the obvious when suck, luck and fuck all rhyme.

You try not to write a limerick about Donald trump having his bottom fiddled with when famous and anus also go perfectly well together.  it is not an easy thing and I am a weak man.  Mostly I like to write those ones on public lavatory walls or teach them to other people’s young children.

Alas I must though have some sort of filter because whilst I don’t mind offending people it should never be done just for the sake of offence.

Anyway, here are a few of the starting or ending lines from some of them them – feel free to perhaps make up your own using them.

Some starts

A well endowed teacher called Rick

An uncle quite fond of incest

A woman with breasts double D

A preacher man down on his luck

There once was a woman quite fussy


and how about a few endings…

and exploded all over her face

and a penis the size of a marrow

and collapsed into bed with her dad

and a clitoris the size of a grape

and removing a shoe from his anus


anyway…sorry about that.  I’ll go now.





Some limericks

Just a few limericks to get them out of my head. Camping, drugs and a couple of perverts are on teh menu today.


Just a couple of quickies…


A supplier of drugs most sublime

said “No ones cokes quite good as mine

and you’ll never go back

once you’ve tasted my crack

and my weed is undoubtedly fine”


There once was a pervert,  Jaffar

who with puppies lured kids to his car

he got caught, locked away

and I’m quite glad to say

he got shanked in the showers, hoorah!


There once was a priest from Belize

Who’s penis hung down to his knees

but it only got used

on the boys he abused

gets beat nightly in jail, I’m quite pleased


A handy young camper from Kent

spent his weekends outdoors in a tent

but a wind came on through

ripped his home clean in two

left him soaked and confused, poles quite bent




Faeries: The long winter – Part 3

…”Open” she cried, jaw clenched as she tumbled unsure of which was up and which down.  Her heart raced, surely she hadn’t escapade the cold earth and the wolves only for it to end like this. 

I thought I’d give this another stab.  I use it as practice really and to explore things in my head that I can’t quite get out…

Faeries: The long winter

Faeries: The long winter – Part 2


Kostromo tumbled through the opening into nothing, the howl of the wolves fading as she fell head over heels into the darkness of the cavern below.  With light fading fast she attempted to once more open her wings, and this time she felt them move ever so slightly as she strained.

“Open” she cried, jaw clenched as she tumbled unsure of which way up and which down.  Her heart raced, surely she hadn’t escapade the cold earth and the wolves only for it to end like this.

Eyes closed she willed them to again open with all she and this time they burst free from the icy fingers that had held them so tight, and in the blink of an eye she ceased to fall.

On gossamer silver wings she hovered in the middle of the cavern, high above her she could still see the light streaming through the opening she had slipped through.  She looked about but everything was so very dark.  Looking down she could see a feint ribbon of blue light cutting through the inky blackness.  It was hard to tell how far away it was.  Was it the Cavern floor?

There was no way she could go back out the way she had came, so slowly she began to float downwards.  Occasionally she could just make out cold rock faces here and there and as she descended silently the sliver of blue began to shimmer more brightly and she could hear the feint trickle of water.

It was a river, and as it neared she could see that it glowed with a soft blue light illuminating the area adjacent to where it ran.  Small tufts of grass, daffodils and crocus followed its path as it carved it’s way across the cavern floor and silver sprats could be seen swimming in the shallows, larger fish breaking the surface then darting back below the swirling waters.

She alighted gently alongside the river, he wings still beating slowly.  The cold seemed to have lessened, and as she stood bathed in the light of the waters she heard a voice.

“Welcome faery” it said.  It was an old voice, and familiar.

“Frog King” she exclaimed excitedly “Show yourself”.

From the shimmering waters the largest frog you will ever see emerged, his skin dancing shades of  emerald greens and golds and his eyes as blue as the light of the river.  He heaved himself onto the bank not far from her, the water cascading from the bumps and lumps of his skin.  Kostromo bowed in respect.  The frog king was one of the oldest of the woodland kings and was already old beyond memory when she was still a youngling.

“Welcome Kostromo” he said bowing his head in response, “we had all but given up hope of seeing your kind again.”

“Oak awakened me” she said as a dragonfly whizzed past her head.

“Winter has continued unchecked without you Kostromo, and for many many seasons, without your light all of the creatures have suffered.”

“But why was I not awakened?” She asked.

“When you last slept there was an awakening of a darkness that we have not seen before and…” The Frog King paused.

“What is it?” Kostromo pressed.

He looked at her with eyes that were piercing blue like the heart of an ice berg and blinked.

“Your sister was taken Kostromo, she was unable to wake you and so the winter saw no end”

“Taken?  By whom?”

“There are things under the heavens, old forces and long forgotten, that have returned child” he answered in his deep croaking voice “creatures from the darkness and another time that few of us still recall and that we had thought vanquished.”

Kostromo stood still, her head spinning as she struggled with the words of The Frog King.

“Where is Lucia” she demanded.  “Where is she, I will free her” she insisted.

“Patience fairy” Frog King cautioned “now is not the time for such things, first you must eat and rest.  We have much to discuss.”

Photo courtest of Photoparisienne@pixabay

Discount Rap (per Michael’s request for something very sweary) – SoundCloud

You should Kendra because she has stuff worth reading and a fabulous way of saying it. She also has a brilliant grasp of profanity and I casually suggested she do a spoken word kinda thing with one of her posts and guess what…she only bloody well went and did it.

Kindra M. Austin

Listen to Discount Rap (per Michael’s request for something very sweary) by Kindra M. Austin #np on #SoundCloud

View original post

On still being fat

A piece on being made up of one quarter Kentucky fried chicken and three quarters middle aged dad.

I wrote here, some while ago, on the matter of being fat and being on a diet.  That didn’t last though because I have a real love of all things delicious and a self destructive streak that simply will not listen no matter how tight my trousers may be or how jiggly my man bosoms.

I did though do something I have been putting off for a while and go for a full medical check up recently.  The sort you pay a lot for and they issue you with a terrifying report afterwards which has charts in it that prove that you’re lucky to be alive and that you are made up of one quarter Kentucky Fried Chicken.  Probably my thighs.  They are quite succulent.

So, it was with some trepidation that I headed to Leeds and signed in, nervous about what was to follow but relieved in a way that I had done something positive.  I am getting on after all, I am 46 this year.

Now I don’t smoke, and drink only occasionally, but I don’t eat well at all and get far too little exercise.  By too little I mean pretty much none –  unless you count running back upstairs from the kitchen late at night because the blinds are up and the neighbours can probably see me eating handfuls of wafer thin ham straight from the fridge in my pants.

They ran a full battery of tests on all of my major bits and pieces, took blood and other bodily fluids to pore over and even tested my hearing.  I’m a bit deaf on the wife side apparently.

There was a not wholly unpleasant episode involving lubricant and the snap of a rubber glove which men of a particular age are subjected to and the caress of an educated hand to ensure that all was ship shape in the underpants department.

How did it work out?

Well turns out It could have been a lot worse though I hope very much it was the kick up my full bottom that I needed.  Almost everything came back better than I hoped though I apparently need to eat more nuts, oily fish and avocado.  Easy enough I guess.  The two areas for concern were my weight (which I did not need to pay someone £300 to tell me – I do have a mirror) and my blood pressure.  They’re obviously linked but it did result in me having to go on medication as it was worryingly high.

I felt rather chastened I will admit,

So what now?  Well a few weeks in on the meds and I feel noticeably better and I seem to almost have my eating under control.  Its surprising what you are capable of when you the ramifications are laid out for you by someone with a certificate on his wall that entitles him to caress your testicles.

I’ll let you know how I get on.







Ronovan Writes’ Haiku Challenge :Lake & Calm

You know the drill. Small Japanese poems using the words Lake and Calm. Go!

Two words, endless possibilities.

Lake: Silver and gold

Calm descends at fall of day

a tranquil mirror

or perhaps a Tanka…

Calm I watch the lake

The body is well weighed down

she won’t resurface

Endless possibilities

Best call the insurance folk

What about

boat adrift, calm lake

waves lapping at the shoreline

drunken fishing trip

Maybe a teeny weeny haiku

calm water

at camp crystal lake

Boo Jason

Happy Monday!


RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #171 Lake&Calm

Music to my ears

If music were a woman then I think perhaps she would be my dirty secret rather than my soul mate.

Mel, who you can and should read, posted a piece earlier today which you can read here.  Mel has a load of posts, and I would recommend reading all about Charlie in particular.   Most enjoyable indeed.

Anyway, it got me to thinking about my own relationship with music.  I say relationship, but to be honest it is more a series of dirty one night stands than something more meaningful and long term.  I doubt very much that music and I will be slipping off for a romantic weekend to a little cabin somewhere to celebrate a lifetime of loyal partnership though there may well be the chance of a dirty romp in the back of the car.

Ask me who I love and I will tell you that I adore Prince and would happily let him touch me inappropriately (were he not dead – something that still upsets me terribly).  I would also insist that I love all things eighties, that I have a thing for rather loud and nasty metal and own most of Bob Dylan’s early works on Vinyl.  I also had an awkward jazz phase (and have the Dave Brubeck red vinyls to prove it), a pop stage and a particularly filthy long weekend where I was into rap music but that just made me a bit sweary and it turns out that there is no appropriate time for a fat middle aged programmer to be using the ‘N’ word.  No matter how fly or dope his tunes.

There isn’t much I haven’t tried but mostly I seem to resort back to the music I loved when I was in my teens in the eighties.  And Volbeat.  I heard Volbeat for the first time about 5 years ago and since then have fallen very much in love with their rockabilly metal.  I’ve even seen them in concert a couple of times and took my kids to see them.  Our Tom loves them especially, and he is only 9.

I then realised that technology has played a big part in my on off romance with music, particularly in recent years.  The music varies slightly but how and when I listen to it has been hugely influenced by the way I access it.  For many years I had the same old stack of CD’s and cassettes and things did not vary much at all.  Perhaps that was to do with having a young family and trying to work on my career.  Probably.  But as the years have progressed and I have found more time I have dipped in and out of music and most often as I have discovered new technology.

I dabbled with peer-to-peer sharing for a while and found myself stealing all manner of music I had never really listened to but that did not last long as I also stole some pirated films and a particular copy of the Lord of the Rings ended up being a virus so I packed that in pretty quickly.

iTunes then made me super horny for all the music I had forgotten from the eighties and nineties (and sometimes later), and for a long time I amassed a ton of stuff that I hadn’t really appreciated at the time and enjoyed it a lot more as I got older.  I ended up with everything Hootie and the Blowfish had done which when I look back was just a bit weird.  They were okay but I’m not sure I needed their entire collection.

Spotify and Deezer followed and that was quite fabulous and I had a nifty little speaker I would plug my phone into as I browsed endlessly but I would always end up coming back to the things from my youth.  I will admit to having a real thing  for Lynyrd Skynyrd and The Band which I picked up from my dad.

Sonos speakers followed and I put them through out the house and again these gave me a new lease of life and it was not long before I was treating my neighbours to hours and hours of Erasure and the Pet ship boys.

Recently my listening time has increased again on the back of picking up a couple of Amazon Alexas which I have hooked into my Sonos speakers and Spotify and Amazon music accounts and between me and the boys there is often sometime playing in multiple rooms throughout the house.

Funny how it goes though because the kids are mostly into eighties music and volbeat…I do wonder what will be next.

Some more limericks

100 word Wednesday – The Chase









Fatties in Space Part 3 – Definitely still not for kiddies

You’d have thought I’d have given up on this idea by now wouldn’t you. But no. No I haven’t.

Part 1 is here and part 2 is here.  You really need to read those first for this to make much sense.  Not that it makes much sense.


The big day came around, as our pair left the ground

and to space they did head quite excited

soon of gravity free they would quite happily

give into their lust now ignited


Not constrained by their girth or the pull of the earth

they were sure to express their desire

to the chamber they floated, rotund hot and bloated

loins smouldered then soon set on fire


Hungry mouths warm wet lips bulging crotch quite pert nips

they cavorted and drifted through space

arching backs roaming hands loves wet warmth swollen glands

In huge bosom he buries his face


Set free from their weight, she’s the food on his plate

he devours from angles quite kinky

with his mouth he then pleases his tongue he then teases

and lord look where he just stuck his pinky


Heaving flesh they’re entwined to their passion resigned

hungry mouths they consume head to feet

Right way upside down how they both go to town

Like that time at the all you can eat


Now the entree is done and its time for more fun

its the main, shes bent over and waiting

Massive buttocks quite round what a sight most profound

he approaches his mouth salivating


Hands on hips legs akimbo, head thrown back like a limbo

how he handles her bulk into place

with no effort he fills her the pleasure it thrills her

Just like ribs, puts a smile on her face


Then with coital alignment and subtle refinement

its doggy, jack hammer then twister

little dipper, wheel barrow, for her age she’s quite narrow

though the Zebra Lunge gave her a blister


As they peak in their lust one more move is a must

and he grabs her and spins her around

They explode with delight and embrace close and tight

For the pleasure and love they have found


She caresses his chins and quite sated she grins

satisfied for the first time in years

pudding eyes drink her in shes his goddess of sin

such pleasure it brings them to tears


Well I think that is enough really.  I will miss them,