..here today. Only cricket threads and people moaning. I'll have to do some work instead, unless .....

someone says something interesting.

You could get cracking on that famous Bunkerites poem. Better than working.

Ha. You think poems aren't work? They're exhausting. You need therapy afterwards.

Good idea, though.

Lengthy prose is hard work but poems are generally short and now that they don't even have to rhyme they're as easy as modern art-

Bored, mind meandering and aimless then...

Bang! A thought, ill formed but real and tangible as Dibble's gut.

Fame, notoriety or the celebrity craved by Yubep?

None can defy onrushing death.

All are shite and hollow as a post by Sussex

poems are for poofs.

All writing is effeminate. Even reading can be a sign of confused gender identity. Proper men are illiterate or only read sports biographies.

thats not true, but poetry is definitely for poofs.

This is definitely plagiarised. I specially recognise the bit about celebrity and Yubep. It's Milton, isn't it?

I think Milton did write a few about Yubep but this isn't one of his. It is all my own work and took a full minute of mental torture to knock out. I was drained at the end of it and needed to apply for an Arts Council grant to help with my recovery.

You've got it all wrong. In a recent readers survey run by the reputable journal Nice Poetry for Sensitive Young Men 98% of readers said that they were "not sensitive really" and 96% said that the statement, "I only read poetry in order to have sex with brainy but gullible lasses" applied to them.

Shut up. Shut up.

They are my final words.

Have I touched a nerve?

I'm Bard with this thread..

I used to think of the Bunker as the virtual equivalent of the Millhouse pub on a matchday.

Right now it's more like the interweb equivalent of the day room in me mam's retirement home.

And the old gadgie sitting in the corner shouting "Not much fun here today" is no bloody help.

I just wish we were vibrant, on the up, bouncing club like The Pritt Stick Leagues newest addition.

4 posts on Darlo Uncovered today.

My daily peruse to see if anything was on I could take the piss out of didn't last long.

Can't argue with any of that. A bright light amidst the darkness!

The Niall Rodney thread caught my eye..the cheeky little boogers,eh ?.

Oh dear, we are in revenge mode, aren't we?
You could always start an illustrated misogynists comic then you needn't worry about the longer words.

I just knocked up a little poem about Wimbledon....

Fernando Verdasco eats lots of tabasco,
Whereas Andy Murray is a bugger for a curry,
Rafa Nadal likes his meat done halal,
But Jerzy Janowicz has a sister who's a right b....

Bloody titch?

Poor Dibble has this fear,
he sees all poems as queer,
he wrote one today,
now he fears he's gay,
and all since he gave up the beer! ....

Classic limerick approach

I'll respond with a Friday haiku-

Poems enhance life

Dibbles manly heart is stone,

What can warm it? Goals!

Poems are for Poofs.

I can see it now:

Your 12 year old son comes home from school, instead of going to footy training, to announce he is joing the poetry group.

Only two things happen:

1. You take him to one side, and discuss the offside rule in depth, just to make sure.

2. He gets a fully deserved severe beating the next day in the play ground.

You all know its true.

He's eleven and I'm hoping he'll turn out to be Pools' first bi-lingual, poetry writing striker. You'll regret all this poetry is for poofs business when his goals and inspirational odes, written in English and French, propel us to new heights.

he will need to recover from the broken legs he is sure to receive......shortly.

In France tackling isn't allowed...

I like the limerick and haiku. Splendid.

Here's one that rhymes, just for the purists.


Ballad for Kirsty

Whether to buy blue or whether red
whether to eat cake or whether bread
whether the pub or the pictures instead
are none of them questions for Kirsty.

It’s really too feeble, for choices are there –
the Ritz or the Hilton, Margaux or Sancerre.
We’ve all the same chance to acquire savoir faire
but there’s so little effort from Kirsty.

True once she had work in a grocery shop
but, these small family businesses, never much cop.
When they couldn’t pay tax, they came in for the chop.
That’s what happens to people like Kirsty.

They’ve no contacts or breeding or get up and go,
not like the successful who’ve strings to their bow,
who when faced with creditors simply say no.
She’s just far too .........pliable, Kirsty.

So, it’s easy to halve her allowance for rent.
She may have to move out, but in that event
she could always try whoring, or do something bent.
We’ve done it, why not Kirsty?

And if she persists in claiming the dole
we’ll tell her she must reconsider her role
and we’ll send her to Tesco to work for fuck-all.
Oh, we’re having great fun with Kirsty.

It helps that the tabloids see just what we’re at
yet pretend to believe our ridiculous stats
and agree she’s a waster, deserves all she gets
and we’re right to downsize Kirsty.

She’s taken to staying out late every night
waiting alone by the tracks as train lights
catch her eye….… so we got it just right,
we won’t be hearing much more from Kirsty.

That is bleak and very moving Grabec. I can't believe that KIRSTY ended up that way. His/her posts were a bit odd but he/she certainly didn't deserve that sort of treatment.

Oh, you mean that Kirsty?
No, I didn't have her in mind at all. It was just a sort of personification of all the people who are victims of the current crassness and bullying.

Here's a two verse limerick I once penned in honour of George Reynolds and his furor when we nicked Gabbiadini from under his nose.* It was just before the opening of the White Elephant.

A famous safecracker one day
Found his stadium had gone away
He called in the police
To retrieve the showpiece
Where Darlo FC were to play

They search high and wide, thick and thin
Till one day Mr R wandered in
And said stop things right there!
I've just realised where,
Go and look under Hartlepool's skin

*The famous comment from GR was "I think our new stadium must getting under their skin".