This calls for a song, or two

I don’t mean to go too far down the route of silly puns—there’s a wealth of other sites for that—but in the spirit of Keats and Chapman:

There’s this Englishman sharing a train compartment with two young guys from Sweden—Sven, and his friend Olf, who’s dressed in drainpipe trousers and brothel creepers.

After spitting on the floor and sneering at the English guy, Olf goes off to the buffet car to get a can of beer. After one swig he spews it up all over the compartment and lets out a torrent of foul abuse.
“What’s up with him?”, the Englishman asks Sven.
Sven bursts into song:

Rude Olf the Ted loathes train beer.

Oh well, I guess I have to do the old Mary Poppins one too:

Gandhi, with his hunched gait, walked barefoot, so that the soles of his feet became hard. With his frail form, he led a spiritual life, but his diet gave him bad breath. All of which made him (altogether now) a

Stoopy calloused fragile mystic vexed by halitosis.

6 thoughts on “This calls for a song, or two

  1. This is the worst of all jokes because it requires so much explanation about my eating and drinking and traveling habits and also involves the Bonzo Dog Band.

    Meself and cronies used to escape from our work in State House, High Holborn to drink vast quantities of Young’s bitter and eat the delicious jacket potato with chili sauce.

    The young lady at the food bar when the order was ready would call out “Chili and jacket” to which I would wittily respond: “No, but I do have a Peruvian waistcoat”. Sides were split.

    Are you familiar with the Bonzos’ Death Cab for Cutie? “Have you got a light mac?” “No, but I do have a dark brown overcoat”.

    I do, indeed, have a Peruvian waistcoat which I purchased in a market in the Altiplano in 1983.

    Like

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