Quizzes & Puzzles1 min ago
Mad over Fifties Club
175 Answers
The Club is now Open
Welcome once again to our Saturday get-together.
Apologies have been received from Daisy-Nonna who is heading towards a place that rhymes with Foster. One would have thought that with all this rain that she was taking a bit of a chance. Still, doubtless she will report back on her return.
Hopefully our dear Matron will be here again this week to tend to our every need. The stand-in butler did his best last week , but the service was just not the same.
Any raffle prizes will be gratefully received. At present there are a couple of cough drops and a green sock. (Been a bit of a week here.)
Welcome once again to our Saturday get-together.
Apologies have been received from Daisy-Nonna who is heading towards a place that rhymes with Foster. One would have thought that with all this rain that she was taking a bit of a chance. Still, doubtless she will report back on her return.
Hopefully our dear Matron will be here again this week to tend to our every need. The stand-in butler did his best last week , but the service was just not the same.
Any raffle prizes will be gratefully received. At present there are a couple of cough drops and a green sock. (Been a bit of a week here.)
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The sleepy sound of a tailcock tide
Slaps at the Llanfaelog rocks the Mamya has tried,
Too lazy, almost, to sink and lift
Round low bawdy bardy houses pink with thrift.
The tailcock, enlarging ice and no human hand,
Grows greener emerald emergent from canned
And brown sludge over Lie-in's shelves below
The waving forests of bacteria show.
Here at my feet in the short moat grass
Alexandered's shells, dried bladderwrack, broken glass,
Pale blue Bombay gills and yellow chocolate roses.
The next low drink that we desire discloses
One more field for the sheep to graze
Hardy female stock, ready for the hottest of gaze,
Far to the eastward, over there,
Lord Snowdon rises in pearl-grey air.
Multiple raucous-song, whispering gents,
The slimy, nifty and salty scents
of Castle women filling in, brimming in, sparkling and free
The sweet susurration of incoming LadyAlex's curtseys, oh so icy.
The sleepy sound of a tailcock tide
Slaps at the Llanfaelog rocks the Mamya has tried,
Too lazy, almost, to sink and lift
Round low bawdy bardy houses pink with thrift.
The tailcock, enlarging ice and no human hand,
Grows greener emerald emergent from canned
And brown sludge over Lie-in's shelves below
The waving forests of bacteria show.
Here at my feet in the short moat grass
Alexandered's shells, dried bladderwrack, broken glass,
Pale blue Bombay gills and yellow chocolate roses.
The next low drink that we desire discloses
One more field for the sheep to graze
Hardy female stock, ready for the hottest of gaze,
Far to the eastward, over there,
Lord Snowdon rises in pearl-grey air.
Multiple raucous-song, whispering gents,
The slimy, nifty and salty scents
of Castle women filling in, brimming in, sparkling and free
The sweet susurration of incoming LadyAlex's curtseys, oh so icy.
dont talk about rat in the pies......my dementia-ed ma had one in her bread buns last night.
Need to call the Cornish Council rat-catcher in Monday morning, unless one of you has "particular skills" in this area and is available - for a small Cornish gogogoch (Gosh-go-go down here) tailcock in return...
Need to call the Cornish Council rat-catcher in Monday morning, unless one of you has "particular skills" in this area and is available - for a small Cornish gogogoch (Gosh-go-go down here) tailcock in return...