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Listeners' Fantasies |
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From Ambridge to Limerick - Part Five
by various
 The limerick writers of The Archers message board sum up the last few months, from the momentous events in the Aldridge family to Scarlett Del Monte's snake.
Home Farm and Ruairi
So Debbie has vented her spleen
(It was truly a venomous green)
She has disgorged her ire
Thrown fat on the fire.
Was he bovvered? Remains to be seen.
Now Alice knows all about Ruairi
And despite Brian saying he's suairi
She is riddled with rage
"It's not fair at Mum's age
She'll become more than old; she'll be huairi"
So Alice has packed up her stuff
She's decided enough is enough
She does not do forgiving
But she'll soon find that living
Without Dad's allowance is tough
I think it is wrong that Miss Alice
Is bearing her father such malice.
It's unkind; but I hope
Later on in this soap
She'll inhabit a sty, not a palace
Our Radio's* chin hits the floor (*Susan "Radio" Carter)
When she twigs who's the daddy of Roar
She says, as they go,
"The whole village will know...
(I'll tell them all - just to make sure!)"
A phone call announces his birth
A new little life on the earth
His name, Sipho, means Gift
But will he heal the rift?
I wouldn't give odds it's not worth... it
Come on, Alan, don't be a sap!
You've got caught in the kindliness trap.
With Amy he pleads
"That's not what Alice needs.
What she really needs now's a good... friend."
Brian thought that by buying champagne
Then presenting a cheque in her name
He'd reward Alice well.
But we listeners can tell
She's still one step ahead of the game
Fallon, Ed, Emma, Will and Nic
So Kenton is looking for staff
Now Brenda's resigned from Jaxx Caff
Each potential recruit
Must work rotas to suit
Emma's child-care requirements - how naff!
Emma's up for one more Girls' Night Out
But she'll fail to remember, no doubt
The curious plight
Stemming from her hen night
Please don't leave her again up the spout
Will to Brian:
"Could I ask one small boon, dad-to-dad
Can you free up my shifts just a tad
To help meet my son's needs?"
"How my heart for you bleeds
More of that and you're down the road, lad"
I hear often this bus-stop has hosted
A meeting when prospects were boasted
Does Nic know that Will feeds
Lots of birds, which he leads
To a doom where they're shot, plucked, and roasted?
Nic looked down her checklist again
Will ticked all her boxes, that's plain
To make perfectly sure
She then checked them once more
Yes he'd job, car, own home, half a brain
Clarrie moans "Nic's the gold-digging sort,
And my Wiwyum ain't gave it no thought.
She's just after 'is dough
But the worst of it, though
Is them scones wot she served was SHOP-BOUGHT!!"
Emma couldn't hold back from a sob
While reviewing her prospects and job
She confided the truth
To her employer Ruth
Little heeding the size of her gob
Dear Fallon, don't listen to K
You know she will lead you astray
Don't entertain Ed,
In your head, or your bed,
There are better fish swimming your way
This girl planned a trip in a boat
But she sadly did not get afloat
Ed could not see her aim
So he joined Jazzer's game
Now some Russian is getting her oats
Dear Fallon, take heed of this rhyme
With Ed you're just wasting your time
Until you can spot
Which is Bluestreak, which Blot
And tell Starscream from Optimus Prime
Poor Fallon found Ed so fantastic
She thought she would do something drastic
But imagine the trauma!
He grabbed the Transformer
Then eloped with a Russian gymnastic
Ed's luck is finally turning
Fallon's ardour is fiercely burning
And now - here's the rub
Her Mum runs the pub
In the shower there's a lot he'll be learning
Bert and his poetry
Bert Fry is a man with a mission:
To realize his Poetic Vision;
I'm afraid he'll feel cheated
When his efforts are greeted
With cries of Teutonic derision
"Oh yes!" I thought. "It's a dead cert"
As our Nigel tried not to be curt
With the Bard on the phone
I was sure he'd intone
"Just don't mention the war, oh please, Bert"
I feel sure bardic efforts from Bert
Will engender trans-national hurt
And his ill-though-out stanzas
On defeating the Panzers
Will mean that a food fight's a cert!
The Worm of Ambridge
Some chap stays in Room 104. He
Departs without paying. What's more, he
Can't manage his snake:
That's an easy mistake -
Just ask Brian why now he's got Ruairi.
A runaway snake? What a hassle!
Roy's nerves are beginning to frazzle.
He should check in the kitchen,
Where they think it's bewitchin',
And Ian has christened it "Basil"
She's probably just passing through
But it's good to meet somebody new
As the music gets slower
And she lowers her boa
May I present Miz Scarlett to you
While the boa continues to wander
Through Grey Gables and B&Bs yonder,
Miss Del Monte says "YES!"
As the 'Bull' boys confess
She's the best bint since old Anna Conder
The Snells - and Dylan Nells
A cria is born, Nature's Wonder,
But it did cause our Lynda to ponder:
"How on earth could this work,
I've not seen any stork?"
No, indeed! For 'twas brought by a condor
You know it's a good sort of day
When your llama friends dos become tre
My eyes shed a tear
At the news of the cria.
So raise glasses and shout Hip Hooray!
Lynda thinks she can write a review,
And distinguish a daube from a stew:
But all Borsetshire knows
That her prose curls one's toes
Whether read in the dentist's, or loo
This Glenn Whitehouse may think that he's clever,
But he lacks certain skills. Could he ever
Take a minute to smell
"Nells" as formed out of "Snell",
If a good cruciverbalist? Never!
Wait. Perhaps he is really much brighter?
He binned the review, guessed the writer,
Sent a cheque of no worth,
And is rolling in mirth;
Yessss! The victim has bitten the biter!
And poor Robert is now pressed to go
And pretend to be Dylan. We know
That he lacks Lynda's art
And will not get the part
In the Editor's comedy show.
They're putting on pounds at the Snells
From eating their meals at hotels
Where next to have dinner?
Look out Michael Winner
Your scorn cannot match Dylan Nells
Mike's dating game
Mike thought to draw Marion out
And woo her with stories of trout
She gave it back good -
Tales from Grimm Underwood
I fear love's young dream came to nowt
Mike's nonplussed when his date trills "Well I'm
Not a lover of trees. It's no crime
To make sure that one's street
Is kept tidy and neat.
Mine's a lager, please, Mike... and no lime!"
Mike's dating's confusing my head
Is he heading for three in a bed?
I'm assuming that Wendy
Is compliant and bendy
But fun loving Corinne - 'nuff said
Stories Miscellaneous
Does the bracelet Sid bought have such power
That he'll get Jolene back in the shower?
When they've closed up the bar
She'll dispense with her bra...
Then they'll have a real Happy Hour!
Big Al must be quite a good bloke
He dashed straight round to Brookfield, no joke
But I'd have to concede
That one cause of this speed
Was the sight that he saw when he woke
Revenge (I've heard)'s best eaten coldly
So Sid's hatched up a plan most unholy
He's too clever by half
For he's given out Garth
For approaching the wicket too slowly
Hayley pregnant? What wonderful news!
No more she'll be singing the blues.
But I feel a slight tremor:
Amy, Alice, and Emma
All expecting their Ambridge cuckoos?
David Archer's most serious flaw
Is his lack of respect for the law.
Parish couns'lors, I'm sure,
Shouldn't dump their manure,
But when told, David just replies "Pshaw!"
Sid Perks took a swing at this cad
Now the police have found out, it's so sad
Will his rueful next scene
Take place in Winson Green?
For our publican things now look bad
Our thanks to Antiquelemonsqueezer, Knotted Kernal, Loda Bullox, Miss Sydney, Mr Snowy, PennYan, Piers Plowman, Rettegap, Ronnie the lizard, Septimus Harding, The Famous Eccles, Tiddleypush and Vicky S
More limericks:
From Pip and Jude to Phil's death
From Matt and Lilian to Annette and Leon's fling
From Alice and Christopher to Bert's Ploughing Match
From Alan and Usha to Marjorie
From Home Farm to Scarlett Del Monte's snake
From Tom and Brenda's house hunting to Siobhan's tragedy.
From Adam and Ian’s nuptials to Nigel’s demolition work
Ill fated romance special: the Brookfield love quadrangle, and Christopher and Venetia
From a young lady called Emma to frisky Titcombe
More
Archers fantasies
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