Out of the Box Read online



  Out Of The Box

  A collection of humorous verse

  Out of the Box

  Christine L. Bryant

  Copyright © Christine L. Bryant 2014

  Christine L. Bryant is hereby identified as the author of this work in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  Contents

  A Slimmer’s Christmas Prayer

  Bare Back Rider

  Zero

  What a Waist

  The Gravity of Old Age

  It’s Never Too Late

  Grandchildren

  Golden Wedding

  Going…Going…Gone Metric

  Buyer Beware

  Intolerance

  Negative Sympathy

  Que Sera

  Windfall

  Back to Square One

  Second Opinion

  Good Intentions

  A Bridge Too Far

  I Don’t Want to Go to School, Mum

  The Twelve Days of Christmas

  Selective Viewing

  The Great Outdoors

  The Carrot

  Indecision

  Déjà vu

  Spring Fever

  A Cog in a Wheel

  The Magic of Christmas

  Strife on the Ocean Wave

  Odds & Ends (Part One)

  Odds & Ends (Part Two)

  Kids Corner:

  Bottom Burps

  My Grandma Has a Funny Neck

  The Queen of Hearts

  Little Bo Peep

  I Think My Dad is Spiderman

  Goal!

  When you’re watching your weight, it’s so difficult to be good at Christmas. One can only pray…

  The Slimmers’ Christmas Prayer

  Our Turkey

  Who art well roasted

  Crispy be thy wings

  Thy meat be lean

  Fat is obscene

  On hips, as it is on waistlines

  Give us this day our chocolate log

  And forget all the calories

  As we forget clothes that pincheth against us

  And feed us not unto inflation

  But deliver us from bingeing

  For mine are the peanuts and the ice cream and the gateaux

  Till ‘ere I recover

  Amen.

  And they thought talent shows were a new idea…

  Bare Back Rider

  ‘I do have ears, you know,’ Miss Godiva whispered low

  As her grooms discussed the increase in her weight

  ‘I must ride throughout the town with my tresses for a gown

  And if you two don’t move quickly, I’ll be late.’

  In her dressing room that night, she conceded they were right

  Poor old Dobbin had been slower by a head.

  And as she trotted by, people scarcely blinked an eye

  Even Tom had found some work to do instead.

  ‘We could do with something new!’ someone called, as she rode through

  ‘We’re sick of looking sideways at your belly!

  We want some acrobatics, we want singers, we want dancers

  Let’s have talent we can vote for on the telly!’

  Never one to hang about (except when bits popped out)

  Miss Godiva put the concept to her mate

  ‘What a capital idea,’ said the honorary peer

  ‘We can charge a one groat entrance at the gate.’

  ‘No more need for you to ride, I can tax them once inside

  Maybe serve some ground up beef between some bread?’

  ‘Don’t give up the day job, dear,’ she answered, with a sneer

  ‘I’ll fry some bits of chicken up instead.’

  So Audition Day arrived and all performers that survived

  Were ushered off to Boot Camp at the Hall

  They were given sparkly clothes and a dousing with a hose

  As most of them had never washed at all.

  But despite the glitz and glam, their performance was a sham

  And the viewers booed and jeered them just for fun

  The last to have a go, Miss Godiva stormed the show

  And in just two days, she’d shot to Number One.

  Which only goes to show, when your figure starts to go

  There is always something else that you can try

  But take my tip, dear soul, unless your act’s top hole

  Find the nearest horse, and just keep trotting by.

  Quite a few cats have adopted me over the years and they’ve tolerated me with remarkable fortitude, particularly at feeding time.

  Zero was something else. A four-legged eating machine…

  Zero

  I found a tiny kitten, a scrawny little mite

  I fed him up all through the day and then again at night.

  He soon progressed to several tins and biscuits by the cup

  I thought to call him Hoover, the way he sucked them up.

  Sometimes he wolfed down so much food, I thought he might go Bang!

  I had to fit a dog flap, for his belly overhang.

  He howled at every mealtime, and emptied every bowl

  I thought to call him Santa when he ate the turkey whole.

  ‘He must slim down,’ the vet declared, ‘or face the Rainbow Bridge.’

  I threw the tins, and fitted chains and padlocks to the fridge.

  I even bought prescription food, for cats of ample girth

  I thought to call him Ozone, when I found it cost the earth.

  I tried to make him exercise; I dangled bits of string

  I ran a mile with tempting treats; he didn’t do a thing.

  I put him in the garden, but he didn’t move at all

  I thought to call him Humpty, when he rolled straight off the wall.

  He took against the special food I served him at each meal

  And despite my pleas, he wobbled off to get a better deal

  Sometimes I see him, in the sun, from several doors away

  They ought to call him Zero, coz he does nought else all day.

  Of course, if any of the diets actually worked, it would help. Take poor Mary, for instance. Oh Lord, we’ve all been there…

  What a Waist

  Mary had a little lamb, with vegetables, for dinner

  She’d viewed her body in the glass and felt she should be thinner.

  Her flesh, once firm, now overlapped, her favourite clothes were bulging

  Her figure went from bad to worse, through plain over-indulging.

  She made a vow, right there and then, to find her former self

  To watch her diet and exercise, till glowing fit with health.

  She saw a vision, months ahead, a sylph-like silhouette

  Her skin like cream, her hair a-gleam, her thinnest figure yet.

  ‘Lose seven stone in seven weeks,’ the magazines were screaming

  ‘You, too, can have the body back of which you have been dreaming

  The wondrous grapefruit waits to help, waste no more time, befriend it

  Give tum an acid party, girls, top models recommend it.’

  When friendship with the yellow globe proved just too bitter-sweet

  She tried the high-in-protein diet and gorged herself on meat

  The chocoholics diet was next, t’was manna sent from heaven

  She checked her weight. Had she lost pounds? Well, no, she’d put on seven.

  Love your fibre. Hang with bran. Could this be her salvation?

  It filled her up, but side effects could lead to gross inflation.

  She soldiered on, through salad days, though temperatures were falling

  An iron resolve was paramount when lettuce was appalling.

  S
he gulped down so much water, her stomach swayed about

  She felt too scared to walk the beach in case the tide went out

  She levered on some lycra shorts to jog around the block

  In reckless mood, she checked the glass, but couldn’t stand the shock.

  When finally, she gave up hope and vanity subsided

  She looked her problem in the face and sensibly decided

  Why bother trying to starve yourself to get a better figure?

  She dumped the scales and bought herself a dress two sizes bigger.

  And to think all this time, what we really needed was a sprinkling of good, old-fashioned common sense. If you’re not happy with the way things are, do your own thing. You’re never to old to make changes.

  The Gravity of Old Age

  Here I am, I’m ninety-nine, still sprightly, full of tricks

  But when I’m standing on my head, I’m only sixty-six

  I’ve exercised my sagging skin, and yet, it’s sagging still

  Except when standing on my head and then it’s just a frill.

  It’s a different world when you’re old and curled and looking upside down

  You never have a runny nose and every smile’s a frown

  You never dribble when you eat or leak each time you’re laughing

  And of course, it’s so much easier to find the soap when bathing.

  You never have to use a stick or speak to passers-by

  You never have to answer if you don’t see eye to eye

  So if, like me, life right way up means every day’s a failure

  Just do as I did, board a plane, and settle in Australia.

  After all, you’re only as old as you feel…

  It’s Never Too Late

  I see there’s a rave at the Dance Hall

  The poster says Hip-hop and Rap

  Wish I knew what they were

  Still, I should cause a stir

  With my knowledge of foxtrot and tap.

  With my go-faster pads on my bunions

  And my new plastic hips nice and taut

  Seems all that I lack

  Is a gleaming six-pack

  So I’ll show them the Kit-Kats I bought.

  I have several nice rips in my stockings

  A mohican and tattoos galore

  I’ve got studs in my toes

  Two big pins through my nose

  And I’m picking up Radio Four.

  I should easily slip past the bouncer

  When he asks me my age at the gate.

  Smiling sweetly, I’ll say,

  ‘Son, I’m Ninety today,

  But in my book, it’s never too late.’

  Calling all grandparents. I said, CALLING ALL GRANDPARENTS.

  What d’you mean, you were having a doze?

  Grandchildren

  Children keep you young, they say

  I s’pose it must be true

  You have seven grandkids

  Does it seem that way to you?

  Sorry? Have you? All weekend?

  My word you’ve got some go

  Of course you want to help them

  It’s difficult, I know.

  Oh yes, I love them all to bits

  They make me laugh all night

  Oh no, she’s walking now, dear

  Well, yes, he’s very bright.

  Computer games? You’re not alone

  They leave me in the cold

  It’s not because I can’t keep up

  It’s because my thumbs are old.

  Mine are perfect angels, too

  I never have to shout

  I’m glad I’m not the only one

  Who ends the day worn out.

  I don’t worry what I give them

  We often have a snack

  I give mine everything they like

  And then I hand them back.

  Remember when trivial things seemed important? Wait a few years…

  Golden Wedding

  Moonlight becomes you, my darling, he thought,

  It highlights the grey in your hair.

  Your make-up’s a fright,

  And that dress is a sight,

  But quite frankly, I’m too old to care.

  You shine in the moonlight, my dearest, she thought,

  It’s blinding me on your bald head.

  You’ve shaved half your face

  And that suit’s a disgrace

  I can’t wait to get home to my bed.

  “Ah, the romance of moonlight,” the waiter observed,

  As he shimmied once more to their side.

  “What’s the secret, my dears?

  Of your long, happy years?

  “We’re so deeply in love,” they replied.

  For those of you who can remember the comforting weight of threepenny bits, big brown pennies, and the sheer delight (and buying power) of a tiny silver sixpence.

  Going…Going…Gone Metric

  Sing a song of sixpence

  ‘Of what?’ the younger cry

  A sixpence, dear. A tanner. Half a shilling,’ I reply.

  ‘A shilling Mum? A Ha’penny?

  Don’t tell us – life was fun

  In olden days, when cash was cash,

  Pre-1971.’

  Nostalgia? I admit it

  I miss my L.s.d.

  Let’s bring the ten-bob note back

  And scrap the 50p

  Let’s reinstate the half-crown

  Start decimal denial

  Let’s see things priced in guineas

  Now we’re talking style.

  Bid fond farewell to farthings

  The threepenny bit is dead

  The only crowns around now

  Sit on the monarch’s head.

  A perch is just a fish these days

  A rod is just a stick

  Will furlongs be around fur long

  Or vanish just as quick?

  The shopping’s now a nightmare

  Conversion charts abound

  The meat’s now priced in kilos

  Instead of by the pound.

  The pint’s been made redundant

  The ounce has got the sack

  I never thought I’d say this

  But I want my inches back.

  Well, yes, we know it’s easier

  One shouldn’t make a fuss

  We’re in the EEC now

  (Did anyone ask us?)

  The work in tens is simpler

  And meets with their conditions

  But why’s it always us

  That have to sacrifice traditions?

  Of course, money can make life so much easier, but it can be hard to come by. What if there were another way…

  Buyer Beware

  Are you up to your elbows in washing

  Whilst you’re dreaming of sunshine and sand?

  Do you know you’d just love to be wealthy

  With copious cash close at hand?

  Are your outgoings more than your income?

  Are you dreading the Final Demand?

  Fret no more, friend, I have the solution

  Three wishes are at your command!

  On receipt of a small cash deposit

  All the answers you seek could be yours

  No more slaving inside in good weather

  No more wasting your life doing chores

  Do you envy the lifestyle of others?

  Are you working when others are not?

  Do you see yourself driving a sports car?

  Or idling afloat on a yacht?

  Don’t delay, send today, for this product

  ‘Tis a wonderful lamp made of gold

  With ancient and mystical powers

  A free genie with everyone sold!

  It requires no special attention

  Just a polish a week will suffice

  And the genie can speak any language

  (though a smatter of Saudi is nice).

  I’m not asking th
e earth for this treasure

  Though this lamp is a dreamer’s delight

  Just a small, insignificant fiver

  And you’ll alter a life overnight.

  You may still not have all that you hoped for

  If you’re plagued with ambition, that’s fine

  But take heart that your small cash deposits

  Will have helped me achieve one of mine.

  Food for thought…

  Intolerance

  ‘You’re different from me,’ the elephant said,

  as it lifted its foot in the air.

  ‘I don’t like you, mouse, I’m bigger than you,

  and I’m going to squash you, so there.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ said the mouse, ‘but if I were up there,

  I’d put my big foot down, and run.

  From down on the ground, I can see all around,

  And that man over there’s got a gun.’

  I originally wrote this during the years of the 1980’s recession. Just shows you, some things never change…

  Negative Sympathy