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.

The Tories: A poem

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 Liberal Democrats: A poem

Do you know what we are for?

We’ve no idea anymore.

Progressive change was once our mission.

Before we joined the Coalition.

Do you remember 2010?

“Cleggmania” was all the rage back then.

We soon held the balance of power.

But this was not our finest hour.

On election night, everyone failed to win,

The Tories needed us to get in,

Did Clegg thus demand safeguards for the nation?

Or to protect the NHS from “reorganisation”?

Did he do all he was able,

To get a seat at the cabinet table?

Today the record says it all,

The Lib Dems have achieved sweet sod all.

Face facts voters, to our shame,

If your library’s closed, you’re as much to blame.

The sad conclusion to our story,

Is that you might as well have voted Tory.

Man of Steel: A poem/review

Look! Up there in the sky!

It’s time to get cape, wear cape, fly.

Is it a bird, is it a plane?

No, it’s Superman returning (again).

Truth be told, though not a flop,

The last Superman was not much cop,

So now it’s time for a British actor,

To try and win the Krypton Factor.

Henry  Cavill looks the part,

His accent’s decent for a start.

He doesn’t play Clark Kent enough.

But cheer up girls! His shirt comes off!

Michael Shannon excels as Zod,

An evil, contemptuous, little sod.

A tyrant, he is reviled and feared,

(To show he’s aged, he grows a beard).

Young  Kar-El  is under threat from birth,

And becomes the brat who fell to Earth.

Russell Crowe saves his son from Zod,

And doesn’t try to sing (thank God).

At school, Supe faces constant derision,

Cannot control his X-ray vision.

Saves school bus but is often sad,

Attack of wind still kills his dad.

Like this poem, it goes on too long,

Special effects are overdone,

Miss Adams is okay as Lois Lane,

(The best one lived in Wisteria Lane).

That said, this summer, you will see,

No better film than IM3,

For while okay, it’s hard not to feel,

We’ll soon forget this Man of Steel.

I’m sure it’ll make lots of money,

But like Batman should be a bit more funny.

Three out of five is my final score.

Interesting and yet also a bore.

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).

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.