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As some of you may know my brother Bob is a poet (see the poems and pictures threads)
I've PM'd this to a couple of his fans on here but its too funny not to share more widely
Its long but worth it
Wally & Polly, a Romeo & Juliet for our times
Next to Romeo and Juliet
This pair seem crass and frantic
Yet when Wally and his Polly met
The tale was still romantic.
Young Polly Miller wasn't posh
And she enjoyed her food,
Now Polly she was hooked on nosh,
For sausages she queued.
Those modern trends abolishing
Unhealthiness with tips
She just ignored demolishing
Big Whoppers, Cokes and chips.
She found most exercise a bore,
She much preferred a Wimpy,
Not bothered if the clothes she wore
Seemed tight or even skimpy.
Now Polly always went to pubs
With her best buddy Babs
And after coming out of clubs
They'd both devour kebabs.
When Polly boogied, what a do
She wobbled like a trifle,
When she bopped round to Agadoo
The chaps received an eyeful.
One Friday night she met a man,
His form was even bigger;
'Twas Wally Pratt, a fast food fan
Who had a rotund figure.
And Wally liked his ladies curved,
He wanted large not skinny,
So he felt good when he observed
Our Polly in a mini.
As Wally had a twitchy eye
Some thought his face was spooky,
His scooter used to rattle by,
A second hand Suzuki.
None of his circle were too hot,
He didn't mix with highbrows
And Wally used to gurn a lot,
His lips could reach his eyebrows.
They bumped into each other mid
The bar of the Two Brewers,
When Polly asked him what he did
He said he was in sewers.
She loved his gurning and his wit,
She didn't mind his job,
He promised her that he could fit
Four lemons his gob.
Attracted by his rubber face
Young Polly she was ready -
Within a week at rapid pace
The two were going steady.
They went to cafes, not galleries
All culture they found crippling,
Admiring pies with calories
And cakes by Mr Kipling.
At Dollis Hill the couple wed
With church bells and confetti,
Ensuring every guest was fed
With meatballs and spaghetti.
The bride's dress, short and made of lace
A classic Polly-killer;
She had so much slap on her face
It looked like Polyfilla.
Soon Wally in his matching grey
Hired suit and grey top hat
Kissed Polly who returned his gaze
As Mrs Polly Pratt.
They left that hall so very proud
Then Babs or rather Barbara
Laughed when the bridegroom gurned the crowd
As they went off to Scarborough.
A Yorkshire honeymoon so hot,
They'd be gone in a minute,
The sidecar sank and creaked a lot
When Polly sat down in it.
Traditional tin cans attached,
Though Wally had to ride far
His happiness was quite unmatched
With Polly in the sidecar.
They'd just got north of Watford and
They both felt touchy-feelie,
Up Wally's thigh went Polly's hand
Which made him do a wheelie.
Unfortunately then he lost
Control, the bike was sundered -
The sidecar came off, what a cost
The husband knew he'd blundered.
One section left, one section right
The mood no longer randy,
It's lucky Polly's head was light
From drinking tons of brandy.
Now fate had struck, although unfair
No thing could overwhelm it,
Poor Wally shot up in the air
And landed on his helmet.
But reader, that was not the end
Despite that horrid fall
The newlyweds survived to spend
Six months in hospital,
Where they were stuck with radio
That only played old ballads;
No quarterpounders with mayo,
Just NHS cold salads.
Discharged, for Wally no more pranks
They left in joy not hearses,
While Polly gave the doctors thanks
Her Wally gurned the nurses.
Back home their passion couldn't wait,
So much time had elapsed
They made the furniture vibrate
Until the bed collapsed.
Shakespeare's two lovers R & J
Were doomed and melancholy,
They should have gurned and ate all day
Like Wally and like Polly.
I've PM'd this to a couple of his fans on here but its too funny not to share more widely
Its long but worth it
Wally & Polly, a Romeo & Juliet for our times
Next to Romeo and Juliet
This pair seem crass and frantic
Yet when Wally and his Polly met
The tale was still romantic.
Young Polly Miller wasn't posh
And she enjoyed her food,
Now Polly she was hooked on nosh,
For sausages she queued.
Those modern trends abolishing
Unhealthiness with tips
She just ignored demolishing
Big Whoppers, Cokes and chips.
She found most exercise a bore,
She much preferred a Wimpy,
Not bothered if the clothes she wore
Seemed tight or even skimpy.
Now Polly always went to pubs
With her best buddy Babs
And after coming out of clubs
They'd both devour kebabs.
When Polly boogied, what a do
She wobbled like a trifle,
When she bopped round to Agadoo
The chaps received an eyeful.
One Friday night she met a man,
His form was even bigger;
'Twas Wally Pratt, a fast food fan
Who had a rotund figure.
And Wally liked his ladies curved,
He wanted large not skinny,
So he felt good when he observed
Our Polly in a mini.
As Wally had a twitchy eye
Some thought his face was spooky,
His scooter used to rattle by,
A second hand Suzuki.
None of his circle were too hot,
He didn't mix with highbrows
And Wally used to gurn a lot,
His lips could reach his eyebrows.
They bumped into each other mid
The bar of the Two Brewers,
When Polly asked him what he did
He said he was in sewers.
She loved his gurning and his wit,
She didn't mind his job,
He promised her that he could fit
Four lemons his gob.
Attracted by his rubber face
Young Polly she was ready -
Within a week at rapid pace
The two were going steady.
They went to cafes, not galleries
All culture they found crippling,
Admiring pies with calories
And cakes by Mr Kipling.
At Dollis Hill the couple wed
With church bells and confetti,
Ensuring every guest was fed
With meatballs and spaghetti.
The bride's dress, short and made of lace
A classic Polly-killer;
She had so much slap on her face
It looked like Polyfilla.
Soon Wally in his matching grey
Hired suit and grey top hat
Kissed Polly who returned his gaze
As Mrs Polly Pratt.
They left that hall so very proud
Then Babs or rather Barbara
Laughed when the bridegroom gurned the crowd
As they went off to Scarborough.
A Yorkshire honeymoon so hot,
They'd be gone in a minute,
The sidecar sank and creaked a lot
When Polly sat down in it.
Traditional tin cans attached,
Though Wally had to ride far
His happiness was quite unmatched
With Polly in the sidecar.
They'd just got north of Watford and
They both felt touchy-feelie,
Up Wally's thigh went Polly's hand
Which made him do a wheelie.
Unfortunately then he lost
Control, the bike was sundered -
The sidecar came off, what a cost
The husband knew he'd blundered.
One section left, one section right
The mood no longer randy,
It's lucky Polly's head was light
From drinking tons of brandy.
Now fate had struck, although unfair
No thing could overwhelm it,
Poor Wally shot up in the air
And landed on his helmet.
But reader, that was not the end
Despite that horrid fall
The newlyweds survived to spend
Six months in hospital,
Where they were stuck with radio
That only played old ballads;
No quarterpounders with mayo,
Just NHS cold salads.
Discharged, for Wally no more pranks
They left in joy not hearses,
While Polly gave the doctors thanks
Her Wally gurned the nurses.
Back home their passion couldn't wait,
So much time had elapsed
They made the furniture vibrate
Until the bed collapsed.
Shakespeare's two lovers R & J
Were doomed and melancholy,
They should have gurned and ate all day
Like Wally and like Polly.
