This Bogus Poetry

It's one of the finest songs of its generation, but one that has been sadly ignored by music historians and scholars. Until now... Traveling in a fried-out combie On a hippie trail, head full of zombie I met a strange lady, she made me nervous She took me in and gave me breakfast The opening to this strange tale. Our narrator it seems is backpacking around Europe in a camper van whilst listening to White Zombie. I would encourage any Australian backpackers not to hang out in red light districts, let alone have breakfast with European prostitutes, particularly if feeling uneasy and unsafe. It's certainly not a good way to spend a gap year and it won't impress on your CV when applying for jobs in the future. And she said, Do you come from a land down under? Where women glow and men plunder? Cant you hear, cant you hear the thunder? You better run, you better take cover. Clearly this makes no sense whatsoever. I can perhaps understand why European prostitutes think Australian

I notice snooker authorities recently announced plans to make the sport more exciting and try to replicate the success of Twenty20 cricket. It's an ambitious plan and it involves... *drumroll* Having less balls on the table As far as I can see - That's it. Is having less balls on the table going to make someone who has never watched snooker before suddenly decide to watch? "Oh wow I love snooker now, there's far less of those confusing red balls. What do you call them?" "Reds" "Yes far less reds, I like it much better now without those reds" It's just not going to happen. So therefore, I announce my five ways to make snooker sexier and more appealing to the general public. --- 1.Make drugs compulsory --- I've had enough of this campaign to get drugs out of sport. What we need is more players playing whilst high as a kite. What I suggest is this. One hour before the match in the dressing room, each player is required to take a mandatory

Oakland, California - 10:30AM *Knock at the door* I peer through the net curtain. It is an elderly black man. I do not know this man, so I am about to make the decision not to answer, when I notice his most excellent hat. I curse my love of hats. I notice I am wearing my pajamas inside out. I open the door. I smell religion. ME " Hey... " Elderly Black Man " Good morning sir, how are you today? " Me " Err yeah, alright thanks " (looks quizzically) EBM " I'm here to tell you about the lord " Me (actually groans) " OK, well what about him? " EBM " Would you be willing to let the lord into your life? " Me " Sir, you've knocked on the wrong door here, I don't want to waste your time. I'm a nihilist. I don't believe in anything " EBM (Visibly taken aback) " You believe in nothing at all? " Me " That's correct " EBM " Do you believe I'm real? " Me (narrowing eyes, t