Occasional Limericks Only #26

You’ll never get nowhere if you’re too hasty

Here’s a question for you: which singer had two top ten hits (and a third in the top thirty) in 1962 all produced by George Martin (clue; not one of The Beatles)?

I could add some extra clues and, perhaps, yesterday they would have helped some-but-not-all of you, guess the name. However, since his death was announced this morning the explosion of tributes to him and his career means you would have to be something of a troglodyte not to know of whom I speak.

Yep, Bernard Cribbins is the answer (aka ‘Perks’ the station porter in the original Railway Children film and star of many other productions). I shan’t repeat here what has been said elsewhere, but I will reinforce the thread that states what a lovely man he was.

As a 12 or 13 year old schoolboy (circa 1970/71) and a keen angler, my English teacher had asked everyone in my class to write to a famous person with whom they shared a hobby.

I wrote to Bernard Cribbins, telling him that I’d heard he was a keen angler and could he give me any tips. I didn’t expect a reply, but I did receive one. Just a short handwritten note telling me he that he was glad that I liked fishing, wishing me ‘tightlines’ and his tip was “don’t fall in”. I was one of the very few, if not the only pupil, that got a reply from their ‘famous person’. I don’t know what happened to it, but I wish I’d kept it safe.

Later in life, one of his top ten hits (his were all novelty songs), Hole in the Ground, became a favourite that Firstborn and I regularly belted out (we tried the same with his other hit, Right Said Fred, but could never remember the words beyond the first verse).

It was a delight to see his resurgence as the country’s favourite grandad in Dr Who although he had never really disappeared from public performance. I shall certainly look out for him when he appears in the Dr Who 60th anniversary episode(s).

Here’s the limerick:

The actor that sang “Right said Fred”
And voiced all the Wombles is dead
It looks like he’s found
His “Hole in the Ground”
As he’s finally reached life’s railhead.

Postscript#1: Cribbins’ third musical ‘hit’ in 1962 (Gossip Calypso) is much less well known than either Right Said Fred or Hole in the Ground. It joined the post-Windrush episode of calypso cultural appropriation of that era.

What set Cribbins’ song apart from those of, say, Lance Percival is the latter’s attempt to assume a mock-Caribbean accent when singing; the vocal equivalent of ‘blacking up’. Cribbins song was all Cockney (or as Cockney as a northerner could effect) without a single Caribbean overtone in sound or word. Still, it certainly wouldn’t be made today as the ‘gossiping women’ trope would be widely deprecated.

Postscript#2: Here’s a birthday/Christmas prezzie hint!

Occasional Limericks Only #25

The less said, the better…

A physiotherapy clinic in my childhood hometown has moved to flashy new premises and simultaneously picked at a scab; the shibboleth that separates those of us that observe a distinction in the use of the words few and less from those that don’t. I can imagine their business plan for moving premises…

  • Draw up plans to move to bigger premises. Check!
  • Invest heavily in new fixtures and fittings. Check!
  • Source signage for the storefront windows. Check!
  • Make a hash of the English language. Check!
Reflections in the window fail to mask an irritating misuse of the word ‘less’ (irritating, that is, to pedants like me!)

A pedant once had to confess
Some people just fail to impress
When they’re compelled to show
That they simply don’t know
The difference between fewer and less!

Occasional Limericks Only #24

The instructor’s a cyclopath!

I’ve just finished a ‘virtual’ spin class at the Aberdeen Sports Village. It was one of the Les Mills RPM online classes (edition 30 to be precise) in which Less Mills’ instructors Glen Ostergaard and Khiran Huston seem to think you enjoy the suffering that you put yourself through.

ASV – a brilliant asset for the city.

Towards the end, had I not been gasping for air, I could have laughed aloud at @khiranhuston who then exhorted participants to “Let your heart dance”. Personally, I was just glad that mine was still beating!

“Let your heart dance”, she says. “Aye, right” says I.

Here’s the limerick:

When your legs want to beat a retreat in
A spin class you’re close to completing
And the instructor, per chance,
Then says “Let your heart dance!”
Just be glad if yours keeps on beating!

Occasional Limericks Only #23

🎶So long, farewell …🎶

🎶auf Wiedersehen, goodbye. Goodbye🎶

I’d like to think that the invertebrates comprising the UK’s governing Conservative party had evolved a spine sufficient to declaim Boris Johnson, its erstwhile leader and Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, as a moral vacuum at the heart of government.

“They have!” you say, “They’ve done for him, he’s resigned!”. Well, yes and no. The latter is certainly true, but not because the Conservative Members of Parliament have evolved a collective spine. It’s solely because they saw their chances of being re-elected by their constituents receding faster than an ageing hippy’s hairline if he remained in situ!

Sadly, he will be only be replaced by another nasty member of the Nasty Party, so heaven help the poor, the ill and the displaced.

As Johnson saw himself as a latter day Churchill, so shall I borrow from the latter to describe Johnson himself. Not so much “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma”, but “Walter Mitty, wrapped in Don Quixote, inside Billy Liar”.

Mitty the complete fantasist; Don Quixote who tilted at windmills in his quest to fight imaginary enemies much as Johnson did with Europe; and Billy Liar, the literary character who simply lied and lied and lied.

Here’s the limerick

Boris, an Etonian brat,
Has hit earth with a resounding ‘splat’!
The supreme falsifier
And odious liar,
Was felled in today’s coup d’twat

I’m grateful to Firstborn who bought coup d’twat to my notice and to whomsoever first coined the phrase. I wish it had been me; it’s perfect!







 

Occasional Limericks Only #22

Whistling down the wind…

I’m obliged to the online Metro newspaper for reporting the medical tale of an elderly chap who presented with collapsed lungs and air circulating within his abdomen. Apparently some of the trapped air escaped with a whistling sound through an unrelated open wound in his, er, bawbag!

As the attending medics’ report states: Our case of pneumoscrotum from suspected spontaneous bilateral pneumothoraces was unusual. Well, you’d hope so, wouldn’t you!?

And here’s the limerick thus inspired…

There was once a musician called Billy
Who played on his trumpet quite shrilly.
His close harmonising
Was really surprising,
When he whistled the tune through his willy!