A Star Is Born: A poem and a film review

Meet Jack: a country music star,

He can sing and play guitar,

One night, he walks into a bar,

And sees Ally (Lady GaGa).

She’s soon singing La Vie en rose,

She’s has lots of talent (and lots of nose).

He steals her eyebrow: they have quite a night,

She hurts her fist during a fight,

He puts peas on it to ease her rage,

(Later he pees himself on a stage).

You may have seen this tale before,

For this is version number 4,

And here’s a very important thing,

Both stars can act as well as sing,

He: the voice of the raccoon from space,

She:  with her p-p-p-Poker Face.

And credit where credit is due,

Bradley Cooper directs this too.

The Oscars preferred the film, Green Book,

But this film too, is worth a look.

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The Tories: A poem

david-cameron

We’re the Tories; hear us sing!

Blame Labour for everything.

The last thing we’d do is confess,

That we’re to blame for this whole mess!

Ten years past, our chief complaint,

Was that the markets faced constraint,

We’d have made the markets stronger,

The recession harsher, deeper, longer.

Never mind the crash elsewhere,

It’s easier to blame Brown and Blair.

Our public services are now a mess,

We’re iffy about the NHS,

Shall we “reorganise” it again? Well, we may,

But we won’t say a thing about that before May,

The press is safe from real reform,

While Rupert’s Sun keeps us all warm,

“Vote Tory” stories every day and

Silly pictures of Ed Miliband.

Frankly, we’ll do what it takes to win,

Even invite old UKIP in,

We’ll attack the scroungers, play the race card,

Kick the weakest good and hard,

Our leader Cameron’s liberal underneath,

A bit like Major or Ted Heath,

But like them he’s weak, you’ll see what we mean,

He’ll even sacrifice the European dream.

So if you don’t care about the national health,

Care only really about yourself.

We really are the party for you!

(Though we’ve not won since 1992).

Don’t get us wrong: we love the UK,

We just wish all the people would go away.

The Owl and the Pussycat II

The owl and the pussycat filed for divorce,

Seven years after their voyage abroad.

There was no more singing or dancing anymore.

They were vindictive, embittered and bored.

The owl whinged: “Oh Pussy! This house is a tip!

“It’s knee deep in furballs and lice!

“And I don’t mind money. But what’s with the honey?

“Both cats and owls traditionally eat mice!”

The cat came back: “You’re not the owl I once knew!

“Oh how did I get in this fix?

“You leave the toilet seat up. My mother was right.

“Birds and cats just shouldn’t mix!”

The owl mused: “What about an appearance on Jeremy Kyle?

It’s on “Animal Divorces” next week.”

The pussy laughed: “I would do it if I only I could believe,

“One single word that comes out of your beak!”

She went on: “I was seduced by your charm, your boat,

“And that trick where you rotate your head.

“You know where you can stick your pissy green boat.

“You bastard. I wish you were dead.”

The owl and the pussycat went to court,

The judge favoured Pussy the most,

She took her “honey” for plenty of money,

Then retired to a home on the coast.

(Chris Hallam with apologies to Edward Lear).

Dredd: A film review and poem.

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Who’s that man with the helmet on his head?

It’s 2000AD’s top lawman, Judge Dredd!

Britain’s own Pete Travis directs,

(Perhaps too keen on slow-motion effects).

How good’s this one? Out of 5, say 3,

Much better than the Stallone monstrosity,

Thank Grud this time Dredd keeps his helmet on,

Inside is New Zealand’s Karl Urban.

Mostly in one building, something you’ve seen,

If you watched, Assault on Precinct 13.

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Here’s Judge Anderson: resident psychic,

She boosts the film as Dredd’s female sidekick.

Brit Lena Headley is Dredd’s nemesis,

If you don’t like violence, give it a miss.

Dredd speaks like Robocop: “Twenty seconds to comply!”

But really, I’d think hard before you buy.

For Dredd fans will enjoy: he is the Law,

But others may find this a bit of a bore.

Margaret Thatcher: a love poem

She floated in before my time

In the year of 1979,

Unions’ “Winter of Discontent”,

Ensured her rise to government.

 

Tory majority 43.

Began by quoting Assisi.

A change from previous older men,

Like Wilson, Heath and Callaghan.

 

First woman leader soon in trouble,

With unemployment surging at the double.

Two million, three million wow!

Also rioting (a bit like now).

 

Recession deep, few were earning,

The Lady pledged:  She’s not for turning.

Then suddenly: in the South Atlantic,

Falklands War came: saved her neck!

 

In fairness, also should be said,

Labour Party largely dead,

Heading in “loony left” direction,

Forgot: supposed to win elections.

 

Welfare State soon derailed,

Miners fought her but quickly failed,

A bad time for schools and national health,

A good time for anyone out for self.

 

Third victory, economy booming,

But problems with Europe and Poll Tax looming,

Iron Lady growing rusty,

Began to use the Royal “We”.

 

When she shouted “No, no, no”,

Geoffrey Howe thought: time to go.

Thanks to Tarzan, she went also,

She wept as she got in the car to go.

 

(She didn’t handle retirement well,

Made John Major’s life living hell).

 

So depending on your view,

She arguably came to our rescue,

Saved us from reds, Argies and decline,

Thank God for 1979!

 

On the other hand, you might disagree,

That there’s no such thing as society.

Promoted markets and Mad Murdoch.

Spoilt son Mark also a bit of a cock.

 

On the other hand, crime, greed and wealth creation,

May have ruined our once great nation,

Homelessness, unemployment and selfishness,

May have left us with not more but less.

 

What’s not in doubt is her legacy,

She handbagged her way into history.

Whether she leaves you angry or full of yearning,

Who cares?:  the Lady’s not returning.Image