I’ve been fascinated by limericks and nonsense verse since I was a small boy, yet I find them both very difficult to write.
The Pentecostal Prime Minister
Our PM’s a man of titanium,
Whose religion is all that’s sustainin’ ‘im;
His small shrivelled soul, is black as the coal,
That fills the vast void in his cranium.
Written after Donald Trump heaped dubious praise on our born-again bullshit merchant when he visited the White House. An engineer had the temerity to point out that titanium is very light weight.
The Drought Envoy (Barnaby Joyce)
There once was an envoy for drought,
Who at rallies would bloat, wave and shout;
While hitting the piss and chasing some miss,
He forgot what the job was about.
Joyce was appointed “drought envoy” by the Pentecostal Prime Minister, presumably to keep him quiet, and exercise that cost the taxpayer some three-quarters of a million dollars. While on the public purse, he spent a lot of time dribbling and shouting in support of right-to-lifers at protests against the NSW State government’s new abortion legislation. Joyce is a Federal MP.
Speaking [in tongues] of Fire
Old Scott Coal is a dear old soul,
He utters mystic phrases;
Sends thoughts and prayers to a myth upstairs,
While all around him blazes.
With unreserved apologies to Denis Glover
And “Gwiggle, yerdle, gribble, grerble,” the PM said.