Stars All At Sea


God dropped down for judging
on the wildest wintry day.
‘Let’s cream off all the best folk
and sail them far away.’

‘We’ll purloin a smuggler’s coaster
from a courtly clan of clowns.
No we don’t do rape and pillage.
And please hoist your ensign down.’

‘Indeed, one has bought a ticket.
Another one craves a ride.
Yes, we’ll be taking Charlie
and we also want his bride.’

‘Press gang a saintly bosun
and a good ol’ Christian crew.
First mate’s holy Benni.
Riding shotgun – George W.’

‘We’ve a Major and a mynah,
aye, that Tony lad that lies.
We must have that Miss Hamilton,
Plus hubby – don’t mention bribes!’

‘We’ve boys that like some action.
Cue Angus, Boris and Hugh.
Sweet little things from fashion,
come aboard Katie, and Naomi too.’

‘Say, have we any scribblers?’
‘Yes, Black Jeffrey’s in the hold.’
‘And what about a dribbler?’
‘Sure, Sven’s got ball control.’

‘We’ve a Michael for the poolside,
another to warble in the loo.
And one that’s into dangling –
no boys in bunks thank you!’

‘Hi! We’re both gay and Liberal!
We’d just love to lead your team.
Ooh look! It’s dreamboat Eddie
all dressed up in Royal Marine!’

‘Now all you priests of Erin,
be orderly and form a queue.
No, not behind young Graham,
he ain’t the boy for you!’

‘We’ve first rate entertainment
and some great reality shows.
Try poker with the Hamilton’s,
or watch Edwina snog Johnno!’

‘We’ve party games for grumpies,
led by Angus and Dave B.
‘It’s “pass the stash of snuff,”
“hide blind man’s squeeze and tease!”’

‘Rickie’s Judy strips on Tuesday.
Lap dancing’s Saturday night.
Young Harry you’re always welcome
But your props – you’ll need to hide.’

‘Not another manly Michael!
Found one sulking down in Spain.
No, not that handsome Princess.
And one fling don’t make him fay!

‘What! More luggage for the Liberals!
We already tilt hard to port –
With them crates of ale for Charlie
and that bust of Jeremy Thorpe.’

‘So, have we any stowaways?
Seeking sex, a snort, or sleeze?
Is that Cliff there in the shadows?
Toss Devon Annie to the sea.’

‘Hey! I were a Cunard purser!’
‘Who’s that paddling off starboard?’
‘The “hunk from Hull” they call me.
Any diarists I might court?’

2006, June

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