Potato Cakes

Splish, 

           Splosh, 

                      Splash,

                                 Nish, 

                                            Nosh, 

                                                       Nash,

                                                                  Bish, 

                                                                             Bosh, 

                                                                                        Bash,

                                                                                                   Mish, 

                                                                                                              Mosh, 

                                                                                                                         Mash.

These are the noises that I make

When I eat potato cakes.

A Poem About Flan

Fortunately for most people, I should wonder, God invented this rather

Luxurious dessert.

A treat, for it most undoubtably is a treat,

Never should it be used in place of bath salts.

Istanbulian flan is rather

Sweet with a crumbly outer layer.

Norwegian flan,

On the other hand,

Tastes disgusting.

A terrible culinary mistake.

German flan is

Often thought to be a cause of migraines.

Other causes might include Oom-pah bands, always causing

Disturbances.

Sultans, prophets

And priests are fans of this often forgotten Sunday dessert,

Neglected and forgotten about in favour of

Dorchester blue and crackers,

Which leads me nicely

Into a line about

Cheeses from around the world, including

Huddersfield.

Final stanza about flan.

I don’t want to

Leave anything out. 

Let me leave you with one thing

Everyone should come to

Realise: Flan is not a good sandwich filler.

Bad Present

Terry West felt stupid. He'd bought his wife a present on impulse and it hadn't paid off.

Up until yesterday, he didn't know what to get her. He just couldn't think.

So at the pub he asked his mates. "What shall I get for my wife's birthday?" he asked. "What shall I get? I want something different. Something she definitely hasn't got" he pleaded.

Little Jimmy in the corner piped up "What about a falcon?"

So Terry got a falcon.

Twenty minutes later, it had killed the cat, made a nest in the knicker drawer and gauged wife's face off.

"THIS IS THE WORST BIRTHDAY EVER!!!!!" she screamed, choking on her own blood.

And Terry felt certain this was definitely the wrong gift.

Bad Present.