A get well soon limerick

Silly and crass and most immature

Sometimes a limerick is all you need to say get well soon…

 

Oh poor baby I hear you caught syphilis

from that woman you slept with at Christmas

and gave it to you your wife

and it’s ruined your life

but at least you can boast of your mistress

 

What?  Things like that happen..

 

Heard you’re spending some time on the loo

and your whole house it smells just like poo

and you really cant think

with your head in the sink

as its coming out of that end too

 

True story

 

Heard your boob job it went quite awry

when you look at them you just start to cry

‘cos they’re both different sizes

and they’re full of surprises

as one nipple looks like a pork pie

 

 

 


photo courtesy of pixabay

The joy of saying stupid things 1.

Picture if you will a small village in Africa, and in a small mud hut in this village lives a man.

You know how people just say things?  e all do it and today I think I shall mount my high horse and discuss one of those things people say quite casually that more than likely has its roots in some vague truth but is actually absolute drivel.

Now insist as much as you like, but I do not for one minute believe that laughter is the best medicine.

I am a firm believer that in fact, medicine is the best medicine.

Last year I had kidney stones, and as I lay there wishing for death to take me I can assure you that the last thing I wanted was to be regaled with humorous tales.  What I wanted was drugs, and lots of them.  Ideally I wanted them administered intravenously but I was quite open to the options of those taken orally or as suppositories.

In a near state of collapse as I was I would happily have allowed passing strangers to ram as many fist fulls of whatever took their fancy up my bottom if it came with the promise of even a modicum of relief.

Now I appreciate that there is an argument here on the effects of dopamine on the body, but my counter argument is that were I a syphilis infected crack fuelled man whore on death’s door then I would surely seek respite of an opiate nature in lieu of watching box sets of Black Adder.

Not yet convinced?

Picture if you will a small village in Africa, and in a small mud hut in this village lives a man.  Let’s call this man Ebeneezer.  Now Ebeneezer has a son who, due to a most awful set of circumstances, is riddled with aids and malaria.  Sadly he also suffers from malnutrition, his little belly so terribly swollen and his face crawling with flies.  His son is in a rather terrible way and Ebeneezer calls for a doctor, and as it transpires the red cross are in the area and send one over straight away.

“Oh thank you doctor” says Ebeneezer gratefully, “please can you give my beautiful boy medicine to help with the pain?”

Now obviously what Ebeneezer is seeking is something to make his son comfortable, so you can imagine his consternation when he is instead presented with a DVD of the complete works of Monty Python.

“Watch this twice a day” says the doctor “and he will be right as rain in a jiffy.”

I imagine that Ebeneezer was not best pleased, especially given that Ebeneezer does not have a television, let alone a DVD player.


 

Want to read more of my stuff?

This is kinda funny

and this kind of sad

This was just fun


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