Who has got the cure for the sit-at-home blues? Ask Dr Grabthar. Now with bigger, easier to read font!

Friday, May 20, 2005

[General] Iambic Pentameter This!

On Wednesday I posted An Ode to Idiots, a poem about people who had done me wrong. I asked for some contributions to the ending (the ending of Mark and Matt that is) and here they are.

I don't know about the other "poets" but I found this exercise to be very cathartic and good for the soul. I would recommend "revenge poetry" to anyone.

[NOTE: These poems are about Mark and Matthew but are not real nor do we wish them to be, we are just having a bit of fun at some TV celebs that we hate. A few of these are gross, but not THAT gross.]

From Mike:

Untitled

Matthew and Mark
For a bit of a lark
Wanted to render themselves into bits

In their very small brains
Where stupidity reigns
Their idea fitted their sub-ordinary wits

"'Twould be most fun"
Was the tale they spun
"To blast ourselves into smithereens"

What they failed to spot
As the blast grew quite hot
Was Matthew's nose rushing on past Mark's spleen

As the bits so small
On the ground they did fall
A bystander's remarks sent all into fits

"How they got quite so rich
Is definitely the bitch
As they really were such enormous gits!"
Also from Mike:

M and M - A Poem


M and M are a couple of self-styled likely lads
Who are really as funny as a knee to your nads

They like to make fun of the distressed or disabled
In fact, anyone who's different or otherwise labelled

How they keep themselves in the media glare
Is a mystery to me and others of mind fair

Were it not for the fact that they used to play rugger
No one in this great land would give them a bugger

So it is with great glee that this poem has a chance
To put things right, to skewer them with a lance

When it comes to deciding your programme of choice
Give the two Ms a berth and hark another's voice

Better yet, go read a book.
From José:
[WARNING: This poem gets very, very blue near the end. How bad is it? Think Team America, and then think, "Wow Team America was really crass, what could be jaw-droppingly worse than that?" Yep, this poem gets very blue; so the editing team at the Hammer have decided that if you really want to read the dirty version you will have to click on the comments tab at the bottom of the post. The below version is rated PG]

Ode to Marc Ellis

Oh dearest Marc I do not watch your show,
And I think I never will.

I've see you flogging orange juice
And you're a very bitter pill.

You seem to think that rapists sweat
And that fart gags are cute.

So here is what I'm gonna do to you
And Matthew, your bimbo root.

[Edited section]

Marc, I don't hate you or your mate
I know you need to make a living.

But why don't you f*ck off to Aussie
Where all the other muntards are chilling.
From Hadyn:
[WARNING: this also gets a little nasty nearish the end, but not as bad as above]

Untitled

I had forgotten, until José said,
About the “rapist” quote.
Mark Ellis, I would make you concrete shoes,
So that you would not float.

As you sleep with the fishes,
I would hope you’d realise,
That being misogynistic,
Is something women despise.

We’ll throw you in the Tasman,
Maybe you'll wash up on the other side,
Where you can be as racist as you want,
That’s if you haven’t died.

Matthew Ridge where are you going,
Don’t think that we’ve forgotten,
About you building all those houses,
With no money and timber that was rotten.

Let’s take you to your Car-fé
And water blast you down,
Tie you to a V8 super car,
And let it drag you out of town.

And that was the last we ever heard,
Of Matthew and of Mark,
But sometimes their ghostly cries,
Can be heard late and after dark.

“Please forgive us, one and all,
We did some terrible things,
Mark made fun of breast cancer research,
And Matthew put Nicky Watson on magazines.”

“But we do not deserve this,
We were just so un-PC,
They loved us on talk-back radio,
And we had a few shows on TV”

“I was on Treasure Island”,
A ghostly Matthew does remember,
His eyes are full of boiling puss,
His corpse partially dismembered.

“And we got some laughs”, Mark reminds us,
“On Game of Two Halves”,
His body pierced with rusty needles,
And bloody gashes on his calves”

“Somebody must’ve liked us” they shout,
“Somebody out there”,
But there are no replies to ghosts,
Just a stillness of the air.

And so the ghouls go back to hell,
And leave the Earth in peace,
But this is just a fantasy,
They’re back again next week.

So please if you’re a viewer,
(Or at TVNZ),
Please follow Mike’s advice (above),
And read a book instead.

2 comments:

Hadyn said...

Now, here is Jose's original X-rated poem.
[WARNING: this is a gross, sexually oriented poem, that may cross the line for many of you. Don't let anyone under the age of 18 read this unlees you want to explain things to them that you'd really rather not. You have been warned.]
Poem is below...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
...
From Jose'
Ode to Marc Ellis

Oh dearest Marc I do not watch your show,
And I think I never will.

I've see you flogging orange juice
And you're a very bitter pill.

You seem to think that rapists sweat
And that fart gags are cute.

So here is what I'm gonna do to you
And Matthew, your bimbo root.

[X-rated section]
First I'll tie you both to a fence
And retreat to my judge's dock.

The gate will open and out will pop
Graeme Sinclair, there to suck your cock.

He'll start off slow and tease your balls
And Marc, I know you'll enjoy.

But once old Graeme takes you in his mouth
He'll bite down hard and chew you like a toy.

Marc, I don't hate you or your mate
I know you need to make a living.

But why don't you fuck off to Aussie
Where all the other muntards are chilling.

Manikandan said...

Hi .nice blog.I am HR of a well-developing concern.I need to post jobs .can anybody suggest best way..
thank you............