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Ode to the National (Mis) Trust of Scotland

 Oh yes, NTS, you’ve gone and done it now,

Vented your spleen

in a manner quite obscene,

and started an affa big row,

Just why, oh why,

pick on the ‘little guy’

when you are a large corporation?

You’ve started a fight

when you’ve really no right

to claim the place names of this beautiful nation.

What makes it worse

and causes your members to curse,

is seeing how you’re wasting our money,

You should make a friend not a foe

of Hilltrek who make the “Glencoe”

Cos what you’re doing just isn’t funny.

If you open your eyes,

it shouldn’t be a surprise

to anyone with half of a brain

that a jacket named Glencoe

promotes the area as a place to go,

which surely should be NTS’s gain?

You see, when you’re nae very nice,

You end up paying the price

Because no-one loves a bully,

Although you might now be contrite,

It doesn’t make your actions right

And your apology attempts have been somewhat woolly.

So whatever Jobsworth devised the plan

to target this respected business man –

Congratulations on your public relations disaster!

On very newspaper page

You can read the public’s rage,

Your reputation couldn’t have gone down the Glen any faster!

The Great Bake Off Take Off!

Lordy Lord, oh Michty Me!
The Bake Off is leaving the BBC!
All gentle tarts and cakes pristine
A move to Channel 4 feels almost obscene,
as a broadcaster that can show Big Brother

We just want, in pink icing, to smother!
But Hark, we hear theres been descent
among the presenters. Love Productions repent!
Cos without the Queen, our Mary Berry
Bake Off will just be very ordinary
And losing Mel and Sue’s acerbic wit,
Never again will there be that perfect fit.

And while Paul Hollywood has vowed to stay,
our pastry fox with hair of grey,
Can Bake Off ever be the same
even if they wheel in Nadja Hussain?
The answer is a resounding NO
because current format just has that flow,
the ingredients to go on and on,
like buttermilk in a tasty scone.

Like waiting for your bread to prove,
we’ll sit and wait for the next move,
Our soggy bottoms on a Wednesday night,
know in our hearts this isn’t right.
Like souffles that have been deflated,
we mourn the loss of Bake Off, so highly rated,

And while producers play a negotiating game
we know that life will never be the same
as we witness the demise of a wonderful show,
all because the producers wanted more dough!

Cruz Missile – the BA brand obliterator

Oh dear BA

What have you got to say?

‘The world’s favourite airline’ no more,

You used to be great

But that’s slipped of late,

leaving passengers feeling angry and sore.

“To Fly, To Serve”,

You’ve got a nerve!

Because that’s obviously balderdash!

Fancy a complimentary G and T?

Not if you’re in Economy,

And you can’t even pay with cash!

You thought you’d nothing to lose

when you appointed Alex Cruz

to introduce some brave new ideas,

But he’s having a laugh,

by sawing the brand in half,

realizing your customers’ worst fears.

“Hola!” he said “Hooray!

I can really save the day,

I think this airline should change tack –

I’ll buy some finer champagne,

Business and First will really gain,

We’ll take out loos and put more bodies down the back.

We’ll not bother to invest

even though our technology is not the best

and IT meltdown causes travellers to suffer,

And as for our crew,

They’ll just have to make do,

Just smile and learn to be tougher,

SI! That’s what we will do

We will split BA in two!”

Senor Cruz proudly did proclaim,

“For Gold card members with the dosh

We’ll make it even more posh,

And for economy…well, it’s just a shame..”

Flying for business or leisure is no longer a pleasure

If you’re flying Economy BA,

It will drive you barmy

Waiting for your M and S sarnie

If the trolley ever makes it past 12A,

You really need a darn good spanking

For tumbling down the World Airline Ranking

Way below Virgin and even Aeroflot!

We thought BA was beyond compare,

But you simply don’t care,

that your customers and crew are a disgruntled lot,

It just seems rather funny

When you’re still making so much money

To cut costs in every conceivable way,

Your aeroplanes are aging,

Your passengers are raging.

And want to fly ‘Anyone But BA!’

Ode to New Year’s Resolutions

January.  The First.

And I have a raging thirst,

There’s a bottle of Prosecco in the fridge,

I tell myself, with a sigh,

That this January, I’d go dry,

Will it count if I just have a smidge?

As I woke on New Year’s Day,

I vowed nothing would get in my way

Of getting fit, though it may take a wee whilie,

Over my shoulder, in the looking glass

I stare ruefully at my arse,

How long before I’ve buttocks like Kylie?

Now for my new eating plan.

Of kale, I’m not a fan,

But I’ve bought myself a fancy new juicer,

To mix up everything I hate,

(I’ve not lost any weight

but my bowels are definitely looser!)

I’ve signed up for yoga and more,

Bought fitness gear galore,

The very thought brings me out in a sweat,

But I’m honestly very keen

To have a body taut and lean,

I’m just not ready to work for it just yet..

 

To myself I must be kind,

To get me in the right frame of mind,

I’ll meditate early each morning,

So I get up at five,

But feel barely alive,

A couple of “om’s and I’m yawning,

It’s the second day of Jan,

Trying to convince myself I can

embrace this health and fitness malarky,

But if you want the honest truth,

I’ve fairly got a druth,

And it’s making me feel really narky..

They say its mind over matter,

Do I really mind getting fatter?

They say that men find curves an attraction,

Oh the sacrifices I must make?

Avocado just can’t replace cake

For that ultimate sugar satisfaction.

Yoghurt can never be as good

as a sticky toffee pud

Although the latter is not on my diet,

Some food is so green

that I find it obscene

and have no desire to try it.

January the third,

My tummy rumbles can be heard,

as far away as the next county,

I’d love to fit in size ten knickers

But right now, I fancy a Snickers,

I’d even settle for a Bounty.

The fourth of January is here,

And I’ve cratered I fear,

I’ve poured myself a large glass of wine,

It’s just a minor slip,

I’ve only had a sip,

But aaah, it tastes so affa fine,

I’ll always be an ample wench,

(well, it didn’t stop Dawn French)

I can’t help it if of salad I have a fear,

I’m analyzing like Aristotle,

Sod it, pass the bloody bottle!

I’ll start my resolution NEXT New Year!