Limericks by St Edmund Hall

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The Hall Writers’ Forum The Hall Writers’ Forum was launched online in 2013 with a view to fostering dialogue, collaboration, and creative writing. Its members include current and former students of St Edmund Hall, members of the Hall’s academic and non-academic staff, and associates from outside the college who have been nominated by Forum members.

First published in the United Kingdom in 2015 by Chough Publications St Edmund Hall Oxford OX1 4AR This collection © 2015 Chough Publications Copyright for the individual contributions remains with the authors except where otherwise indicated Drawings © 2015 Jude Montague 1

Table of Contents Introduction ..............................................................................................................................4 Rose Anderson .........................................................................................................................6 Peter King ..................................................................................................................................8 Stuart Estell ...............................................................................................................................9 Anonymous ............................................................................................................................ 11 Darrell Barnes ....................................................................................................................... 12 Mike Spilberg......................................................................................................................... 24 Carmen Bugan ....................................................................................................................... 25 Sarah Maitland Parks ......................................................................................................... 26 David Braund......................................................................................................................... 27 Natasha Walker .................................................................................................................... 28 Justin Gosling......................................................................................................................... 29 Ian Cumpstey ......................................................................................................................... 30 Lucy Newlyn ........................................................................................................................... 31 Brian Smith ............................................................................................................................ 32 Richard Hunt ......................................................................................................................... 33 Lucy Lepchani........................................................................................................................ 34 Conversation One - Stuart Estell, Darrell Barnes .................................................... 35 Conversation Two - Darrell Barnes, Stuart Estell ................................................... 45 Conversation Three - Darrell Barnes, Peter King ................................................... 47 2

Conversation Four - Rose Anderson, Darrell Barnes ............................................. 49 Conversation Five - Rose Anderson, Natasha Walker ........................................... 50 Conversation Six - Sarah Maitland Parks, Darrell Barnes ................................... 51 Notes on Contributors ........................................................................................................ 52

Introduction

Introduction Everyone knows what a limerick is. Popularised by Edward Lear (181288), his contributions to the genre were often like this: There was an Old Person of Dean, who dined on one pea and one bean; for he said, “more than that would make me too fat,” that cautious Old Person of Dean. But Rose Anderson wondered what the world’s most boring limerick would look like and wondered if the form could be subverted to make it amusingly tedious. Unsurprisingly, this gave rise to another Hall Writers’ Forum Challenge, two in fact: 1) for the most boring limerick; 2) for the limerick which manipulated the terms of the first challenge to become interesting. Justin Gosling supposed that someone might produce a really boring limerick: in the context of the challenge it would immediately acquires an interest greater than its rivals, and so must lose. Contributors barely paused to take in the import of this comment and an avalanche of limericks cascaded down the Forum’s slopes: fortunately no one was hurt. The succinct form of the limerick lends itself to response and repartee; for this reason a number of Conversations have been included under their own headings so that readers can appreciate the exchanges. Otherwise the contributions which follow are listed under the name of each author, each having a section of his or her own, but not necessarily in the order in which they were first posted.

Introduction

As for the timing of this publication, Darrell Barnes wrote: I propose that we publish in Trinity these limericks, which stretch to infinity; but breathe not a word, for it may seem absurd to anyone in the vicinity.

Rose Anderson

Rose Anderson There once was a lady from York Who went by the name of O’Rourke. She worked in a pub, Played darts at her club, And occasionally went for a walk. There was an old person from Cheadle Who mislaid his favourite needle. When he cried, “What a shame! I’m the one who’s to blame!” They replied, “Go and get some from Lidl.” I drove down to Tesco’s today And ... what was I going to say? Oh, yes: bought some cheese And some marrowfat peas, then went to the checkout to pay. I thought it was going to rain As I went out to clear the blocked drain. I tidied the shed Then I rang my son, Ted. Fish fingers for supper again. I cough and I cough and I cough; Drink some Lemsip and then I doze off; And sometimes I feel It’s a bore to be ill; Then I doze off and wake with a cough.

Rose Anderson

Captain Cook Captain Cook was a man of the sea, As bold and as brave as could be. He discovered some stuff, Then he sighed, “That’s enough”, And went to his cabin for tea. My girlfriend’s gone where I can’t reach her, Deep repose shrouding every feature. She is awkward, you know, But I love her and so I won’t say, “The bitch. That’ll teach her”. Some years ago we booked a holiday cottage in a small village called Kirkby Malzeard in the Yorkshire Dales. I was quite taken with the name of the place, so I wrote this limerick before we went: A woman from Kirkby Malzeard Grew a truly magnificent beard. From the Moors and the Dales To the borders of Wales That beard was both feared and revered. … but when we got there I realised that the limerick wouldn’t work! It turned out that Kirkby Malzeard is not pronounced the way you might expect. So I wrote this one instead: In a village called Kirkby Malzeard I dreamed I found work as a beard. All night, in my sleep, I wrote sonnets to sheep And to chips fried in good Yorkshire leard.

Peter King

Peter King There was a young woman from Slough Who worked on a checkout in Slough; She married in Slough, Had children in Slough, And carries on living in Slough.

Stuart Estell

Stuart Estell There was an old man with two feet, Who kept them in shoes nice and neat. He really excelled At being self-propelled, And so went to the shops to buy meat. There once was a brown little bird That sang in a forest, unheard. Its plumage was dull, Its song was banal, And its courtship attempts were absurd. There once was a limerick so boring It made all its readers start snoring They couldn’t recall How it ended at all ...so they went on a day trip to Goring. (Anonymous) A Limerick of ASCII codes Ninety-eight starts, and then one-one-one One-one-four and we’re halfway along Next comes one-fifteen (oh, the boredom’s obscene) One-one-oh, one-oh-three and we’re done. The loop subtracts one for the next String.format* converts it to text The console expels Verse that faintly repels If it crashes, you know you’ve been hexed.

Stuart Estell

I wrote about writing some code And thought that was the end of the road But no, I was wrong And the end of my song Is achieved in this last episode. Off to Hull in a Handcart I’ve boxes of limericks of boredom But cannot recall where I stored ‘em They were all rather dull As I wrote them in Hull Though the people of Hull they adored ‘em. A Morrissey Limerick that is even more boring than the song about boring people from which it derives “This world is full of crashing bores” Sang St. Stephen, “the critical snores Will not misdirect me For those who dissect me Are bastards and uniformed whores.” “I Know It’s Over”, or, “How to reduce sublime melancholy to plain whingeing” Oh mother the soil’s in my hair I’ve buried myself in despair The young and the pretty Have made me feel shitty I’ve had it, I’m off! It’s not fair!

Anonymous

Anonymous The Era of Boredom There once was an internet forum That had lost all its style and decorum. Running out of ideas To prompt laughter and tears In its readers, it opted to bore ‘em. A piece of advice There once was a critic, who said “As a means of boring us dead You couldn’t do worse Than to choose comic verse. Give it up! Write crime fiction instead.” 1729 - a dull number, said Hardy in his slumber? But no! said Ramanujan You’ve missed the solution: it is the smallest number expressible as the sum of two cubes in two different ways.

Darrell Barnes

Darrell Barnes Labour Party 2015 A socialist leader, named Ed, made plans off the top of his head which voters ignored, so, utterly bored, they decided to stay home in bed. Waiting Ennui soit qui mal y pense was what Charles thought made more sense. “I’ve been waiting for years and am bored beyond tears bet you mother’s got many years hence.” February Blues In the midst of the February blues I thought “I’ve nothing to lose. I’ll write for the Forum which is certain to bore ‘em ‘cos I’ve lost the wit to amuse.” The Irrepressible Fun of Limericks It’s clear from what’s just been penned limericks simply don’t lend themselves to be dull, full of nihil et nul, so I’ll stop. Thank goodness! The End.

Darrell Barnes

… on the other Hand ... but no-one’s as boring as Lear: I think I should make that quite clear. What passed for his wit amused not a bit, for no-one’s as boring as Lear. Numbing Numbering One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, then eleven; twelve’s next on the scene, then thirteen, fourteen (some numbers are odd, some are even), fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and then it’s nineteen, which is followed by twenty. I think that is plenty: how bored enough have you been? If you like I could go on and on; after twenty we have twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four - let me see: twenty six - no, I must have gone wrong; twenty-five (that’s correct), twenty-six, twenty-seven (my mind’s in a mix), twenty-eight, twenty-nine (“This man’s asinine”), then thirty is what next clicks

Darrell Barnes

on the tally I keep, thirty-one, thirty-two (shall I carry on?), thirty-three, thirty-four ... “That’s enough! Please: no more! We wish you had never begun.” You’re really no fun, saints alive! At least let me reach thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven ... “Desist! God in heaven!” ... thirty-eight, and then we arrive at thirty-nine, after that, forty ... “Look: we’ve had quite enough! And we thought he was amusing, to boot; so let’s have a vote: shall he carry on counting? Well, ought he?” Numbing Numbering (cont’d.) The absence of any decision suggests I continue my mission: forty-one, forty-two, forty-four - and just who has spotted the glaring omission? Forty-three, it’s abundantly clear, lies between those last numbers up there. Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven I’ll fix before forty-eight should appear;

Darrell Barnes

forty-nine, and then we have fifty! “For God’s sake! We all get his drift: he will bore us all numb with this infinite sum can someone please stop him - and nifty?” Numbing Numbering (Part 3) Since no-one’s seen fit to say “Stop!” I’ll just carry on till I drop. How short are our lives, so I’ll now count in fives bet that caught you all on the hop! Fifty-five, sixty, let’s guess: what’s next? Sixty-five! Nonetheless the life span of men is three score years and ten so seventy’s big, I confess. Seventy-five and then we have eighty, a number that’s seriously weighty; eighty ... “just hold it there! You’d best disappear if you know what’s good for you, matey!” Numbing Numbering (The End) Such a threat! I’m off - I could cry. No one can surely deny I’ve given my best. I’ve left out the rest of the numbers I know, so goodbye!

Darrell Barnes

Blank Blank blank blank blankity blank, Blank blank blank blankity blank; Blank blankity blank, Blank blankity blank, Blank blank blank blankity blank. Delete! I find that I cannot delete some posts that I’ve made. I’m quite beat to know what’s amiss: do please sort out this or else I shall vote with my feet. The Cold Call We’re sure you’re delighted to know this investment is certain to grow. This offer’s the last, so you’ll have to move fast: we just need your bank de ... hello? Realisation Though I’ve tried to live life to the full, give and take a bit, and push and pull, I now realise I’ve been cut down to size: my verse is achingly dull. A Visit to the Vet My cat sees the vet once a year: a thermometer pushed up his rear, a jab in the neck to keep things in check, and it’s done - he’s got the all clear.

Darrell Barnes

Gotcher! If I write in invisible ink, that will make you sit up and think! ‘If we can’t read at all it’s the most boring of all the rhymes that appear in this link.’

which translates as: If I write in invisible ink, that will make you sit up and think! “If we can’t read at all it’s the most boring of all the rhymes that appear in this link.” PMQs Have you ever observed PMQs? It’s when Dave and Ed each accuse the other of sloth or incompetence; both of them fail, I regret, to amuse. The Garden Party When meeting HM E II R she’ll ask you “have you come far? by car or by train?” So let me explain: she does this yar after yar. The Barber He chatters on and on without end, my Syrian hairdresser friend. He asks “is OK? some lotion? some spray? or something for the weekend?” 17

Darrell Barnes

The Boat Race Cambridge are simply outclassed and end up coming in last. It’s the same every year: they bring up the rear when the best of the rowers have passed. ‘Flu I’m really not feeling too bright, coming down with the ‘flu, so I might, since I’m feeling half-dead, get back into bed, curl up and turn out the light. Latin Nouns of the second declension were far too many to mention; so I made it a rule to take time off school and was sentenced to extra detention. Failure If I cannot emulate Pope, then I fear there’s really no hope for improving my verse; so I cannot do worse than swing on the end of a rope. The TEFL Teacher I find it a challenge to teach non-English our patterns of speech; they all seem half dazed, their eyes appear glazed, and they’d much rather be on the beach.

Darrell Barnes

The OAP Coach Party You’ll find with these pensioners’ trips, most of them want fish and chips; a few in the group like Windsor Brown soup, but none of them leave any tips. The Sales Department I was speaking to someone called Jean about buying a washing machine, but you’ve put me on hold so long, I’ve grown cold. I’ve decided I’m not very keen. The Queen’s Birthday Parade “Hey ho!” said the Queen; “this is when One reviews all One’s Guards once again. Is there anything duller than Trooping the Colour? but what a fine body of men!” Dresden 13.2.45 An act of destruction that shames, the night Dresden went up in flames. In war all is fair, but thousands died there and no one remembers their names. Islamic State We rage through the East with the sword, a holy, all-conquering horde. Our jihad is just, so we slay in the dust all those who believe not The Word.

Darrell Barnes

Ebola The sick in Sierra Leone have wasted to mere skin and bone; their bodies leach out, and they cannot reach out for love. They die all alone. The Missing Aircraft Its arrival was clearly displayed with the others, all neatly arrayed in lines on the screen. But then it was seen that the flight was for ever delayed. A Death I held her, my arms underneath, and watched as she struggled for breath; then, with a last gasp, she let go her grasp, and in slipped the silence of death. St Valentine’s Day A note to the BBC’s chief: I find it beyond my belief that you think a Red Nose trumps a Valentine rose and must we have Comic Relief? St Valentine’s Day 2 The Valentine card I adore it spoke of true love evermore; but the roses I’ve cropped, I’m afraid, for they dropped in the mess the dog left on the floor. 20

Darrell Barnes

MSF It seems that few people care what happens in Africa, where even angels don’t tread ‘midst the sick and the dead save Médecins sans Frontières. A New Challenge Rose Anderson: look what you’ve started! We must sail into waters uncharted, for these various themes need different streams lest my mind and all reason are parted. Perhaps we should start a new thread, which groups and makes easy to read the different strands? But wait! I have plans: who knows where this venture may lead? Inspired by this challenge’s rubric (God forbid we might appear hubric)* let’s make a movie ‘Hall Humour’ to prove we can make it ourselves without Kubrick. * ‘Hubric’ is OE I think; with ‘hubristic’ there’s clearly a link, but monastic type setters had left out some letters for they found that they’d run out of ink.

Darrell Barnes

Rose Anderson was very impressed with the fact that Darrell Barnes managed to include her entire name in a limerick: this deserved a special award. Rose Anderson’s special award is most pleasing; so with her accord, I’ll set out to buy from Payne’s in the High the best thing that she can afford. Dear Rose, I regret I’ve been told that George III salver’s been sold; they’ve much the same thing which is signed by the king so I’ve bought it (it’s fashioned in gold). Dear Rose, I’ll be utterly frank: I simply don’t know how to thank your words of goodwill; if I send you the bill, can you transfer the funds to my bank? Dearest Rose, it seems my account is now overdrawn, so I mount this petition to pay what you owe me today (it’s only a tiny amount). ... well, ten thousand pounds (if you must). I bought that salver on trust: I deeply regret you haven’t paid yet. I fear I soon may be bust.

Darrell Barnes

Dear Rose, I’m afraid you’re too late: the bailiffs are now at the gate; if I open the door, they’ll come back for more. Is it fair to suffer such fate? Challenge Conundrum If my verse will have bored you to tears, I presume I’ll have won, it appears. If you think my verse fun, I’ll also have won an amusing bore, it appears. There were two challenges: 1) for the most boring limerick; 2) for the limerick which manipulated the terms of the first challenge to become interesting. Your proposal of what we should do has my consent: good for you! If I first top poll one I know I’ll have won as I will if I top poll two too. To know I’m a bore, yet amusing is a concept I find quite confusing; do I subscribe to ennui or rejoice in folie? I suppose it’s the voters’ own choosing. “O Rose,” as Blake said, “thou art sick, doubtless caused by having to pick of all verses the worst. Make sure you get nursed and restored to health PDQ.” 23

Mike Spilberg

Mike Spilberg This isn’t my own - you may know it; I’m not sure to whom I owe it; But it’s certain to bore As it fails to score In rhyming. So now I’ll show it: There was a young man from Dundee Who was horribly stung by a wasp. When asked, “Does it hurt?” He said, “No, not a bit. It can do it again if it likes”.

Carmen Bugan

Carmen Bugan I must say that a day trip to Goring is anything but boring: they have a lock on Thames some nice-lookin’ dames and a good beer for roaring. There was once a pen made of plastic That wrote rhymes which were rather elastic They bounced up, and they bounced down Made meters crash all over the town Till the poor writer had to do something drastic. Surely looking for the wins must be the most boring thing that is - like looking for cadence and rhyme when clearly yours truly doesn’t have timeto write a limerick that says “Choose Me please!” Oh, excuse me, I think you all meant “A recognizable limerick” needs to be sent? That is a creation which sings and chimes-something elegant, with rhythm and rhymes about a boring subject - so I repent! A bunch a of poets from the Hall witty and clever, and that’s not all (for they fought in clever ways to be boring) set off on a limerick contest which suddenly went off its context when no one around fell snoring.

Sarah Maitland Parks

Sarah Maitland Parks In a moment of boring My eyes went a-touring I made a hand clap Which jolted the nap Of the man in the library snoring Scrolling up, scrolling down, never a smile, never a frown, just page after page, politics and rage, I think I need to lie down. when looking at a telephone even thinking of a telephone will it won’t it ring just like a telephone From page thirteen I go backwards scrolling through colours all the way back to coding I am left in a tizz about who is the whizz at writing and referring and joking. Going by plane to somewhere new Means packing suncream and goo, Then staying in a hotel Not feeling quite well Until the flight home is due.

David Braund

David Braund There once was someone from somewhere or other. Wasn’t he related to that other woman’s mother? I know he did something Really quite interesting. And didn’t he look a bit like that other bloke’s brother? You rowed bloody well, bloody Hall. Well bloody well rowed, bloody Hall! Well this I can tell, You rowed bloody well, Bloody rowed bloody well, Bloody Hall.

Natasha Walker

Natasha Walker There was a desk covered in work, made its owner go slightly berzerk. Writing minutes for hours, she felt needy for flowers, so around HWF she would lurk. Banbury girl sat nearly beside that young man who recently died in that plane crash in Spain ‘cept she’d booked France again so avoided that death, whilst he fried.

Justin Gosling

Justin Gosling Some women who lived at Great Snoring Found life just incredibly boring, So they slept and they slept And they slept and they slept, Those women who lived at Great Snoring. If 2+2=4, Then 2+2=4. That’s logic, that’s logic, That’s logic, that’s logic, And 2+2=4. We took out ten Taliban fighters, And also fifty poor blighters Who got in the way. But still - a good day: We took out ten Taliban fighters. The silly girl couldn’t escape. She was first subjected to rape; Then they cut of her toes, Her fingers and nose, And lastly her head at the nape.

Ian Cumpstey

Ian Cumpstey A mariner sometime ashore, Was relating a fable of yore. When I slumped in a doze, He disturbed my repose, And he started his story once more. A bricklayer living in Bath, Was asked to help out with a path. Laying flagstones was strange: Made an interesting change. And then he went home for a bath. There once was a cat on a mat, It lay for a while, then it sat, It stretched and it purred, And then nothing occurred, So it curled up and slept. That was that.

Lucy Newlyn

Lucy Newlyn A limerick inspired by editing Edward Thomas There once was a limerick that stood All alone, near the middle of a wood In a tedium pool So deep and so cool That the boredom quite lifted its mood.

Brian Smith

Brian Smith Most “ex-pats” who live in France Are there simply by chance. Their life is so boring They spend the day snoring Or drinking and pissing their pants. A Fellow of Teddy Hall Had nothing to say at all He said it again and again and again That fellow from Teddy Hall.

Richard Hunt

Richard Hunt I’m ready to make a big stink. My Triton has gone on the blink. I really can’t cope With no water and soap, Tis I, not the shower, the stink.

Lucy Lepchani

Lucy Lepchani A poet walked into a bar and uttered some blah blah blah blah the barman replied with some witty aside and a customer said ha ha ha.