Poca poca cahonas

pinno

(In response to the ambling ailing assasination attempt of me by an arbitrator of anal anarchy)

Pinarology

Within this deep immortal black heart doth play
the rights of men: and boys we will slay:

Women in knitwear, women in threads
Decals for the blind, Hot Toddys with meds
Gels for the road and gels for the grazes
The hip-ops, the crashes, the car drivers in rages.

Racing for pleasure, racing for dinner,
racing through streets littered with danger,
Hacks, sacks, crudcatchers with tracks
The miles we pound on roads we frowned:
Potholes and tourists, rain and floods
delivered here, discussed and disected...

Until...

Mods and sods they came to conquer
Mashers and bashers they came to saunter
That PC brigade who came to haunt
and left us all in permanent wonder,
A Cockney from Croydon who came to taunt
with cahonas of glass and little to ponder.

But...

The Pina from hell, his wit to tell
a thousand words, expression to dwell
A resurrection of colour, ground to cover
Spheres to conquer and views to plunder...

We will...

Never surrender to the one minute wonders
because medeocrity is sin and the benign is often banal.

Cleat Eastwood

I'll bump this with 3 of these

Because from a chess loving chinese hating black scotsman that really is very good indeed.

Yossie

And I'll bump it as well but its likely that someone may come along and change the post to suit himself so watch this space.

Cleat Eastwood

Yossie wrote:

And I'll bump it as well but its likely that Cav may come along and change the post to suit himself so watch this space.

FTFY because Hoegaarden is a horrible drink :oops:

seanoconn

Oh FFS! I've just noticed this. Nobody gets a free shot at poking my cahonas. Now I've got to write a poem to compete! Grrrr, they give me headaches. Oh well, need a rain delay at work...

seanoconn

The Devils Prayer

Far beneath the forum ground
The devil spins his rollers round
'Pinarology Rules' the 'Deceiver'
Wishes to make us all believers
When his Missus allows he comes to play
Tuesdays & Sundays? He's under the thumb that way

Pina hath made of us voodoo dolls
As Prawn and Horsey fight for our souls
Riding our bikes the battle is on
While we pole axe munters who cheer us on
Climbing up mountains with no air to breath
Sky's team leader dances on his Pinarello steed
Why are Froome and Pina never seen together?
One and the same these men from Kenya

As Darkness descends and all seems lost
A hero approaches wearing Assos
A mysterious S stitched on his jersey
This man of steel is not from Guernsey

Through the marshlands of Hell our hero walks
Until he reaches Devils garden and halts
"Look Tw@t, come see, your grass is long"
He he, I hope he doesn't notice the trattor bomb :twisted:


By seanoconn aged 9 and 3/4

Cleat Eastwood

seanoconn wrote:

Oh FFS! I've just noticed this. Nobody gets a free shot at poking my cahonas. Now I've got to write a poem to compete! Grrrr, they give me headaches. Oh well, need a rain delay at work...

Are you employed British Gas - theyre always late to come and read the metre - haha - chapeau me. :roll:

ballysmate

The Ballad of Bottom Bracket.

Pinarello and Sean, had a spat.
They thought each other, to be a tw@t.

Sean set out, on his bike.
He’d get in first, a pre-emptive strike.

Mission failed, he turned around.
Pinarello lives! Safe and sound.

On his trattor, P hatched a plan.
He’d go dahn sarf , to tw@t his man.

So he searched for Sean, in them there parts.
But he’d gone to work, to play some darts.

Right! P thought, this means war.
He got out his crayons, began to draw.

Sean hit back, there is no doubt.
Alas outgunned, ‘cos his pen ran out.

P upped the ante, he turned to verse.
Dear o dear, he made it worse.

Sean was angry, easy to goad.
He’d fight fire with fire, poem with ode.

So now they fight, like bull and bear.
Who will win? Do we care?



McGonagall

seanoconn

Ballysmate wrote:

The Ballad of Bottom Bracket.

Pinarello and Sean, had a spat.
They thought each other, to be a tw@t.

Sean set out, on his bike.
He’d get in first, a pre-emptive strike.

Mission failed, he turned around.
Pinarello lives! Safe and sound.

On his trattor, P hatched a plan.
He’d go dahn sarf , to tw@t his man.

So he searched for Sean, in them there parts.
But he’d gone to work, to play some darts.

Right! P thought, this means war.
He got out his crayons, began to draw.

Sean hit back, there is no doubt.
Alas outgunned, ‘cos his pen ran out.

P upped the ante, he turned to verse.
Dear o dear, he made it worse.

Sean was angry, easy to goad.
He’d fight fire with fire, poem with ode.

So now they fight, like bull and bear.
Who will win? Do we care?



McGonagall

The words cleant and gopping spring to mind!

And the ridiculous made up Scottish name to add gravitas, brilliant

Cleat Eastwood

Ballysmate wrote:

The Ballad of Bottom Bracket.

Pinarello and Sean, had a spat.
They thought each other, to be a tw@t.

Sean set out, on his bike.
He’d get in first, a pre-emptive strike.

Mission failed, he turned around.
Pinarello lives! Safe and sound.

On his trattor, P hatched a plan.
He’d go dahn sarf , to tw@t his man.

So he searched for Sean, in them there parts.
But he’d gone to work, to play some darts.

Right! P thought, this means war.
He got out his crayons, began to draw.

Sean hit back, there is no doubt.
Alas outgunned, ‘cos his pen ran out.

P upped the ante, he turned to verse.
Dear o dear, he made it worse.

Sean was angry, easy to goad.
He’d fight fire with fire, poem with ode.

So now they fight, like bull and bear.
Who will win? Do we care?



McGonagall

seanoconn

Cleat Eastwood wrote:

Ballysmate wrote:

The Ballad of Bottom Bracket.

Pinarello and Sean, had a spat.
They thought each other, to be a tw@t.

Sean set out, on his bike.
He’d get in first, a pre-emptive strike.

Mission failed, he turned around.
Pinarello lives! Safe and sound.

On his trattor, P hatched a plan.
He’d go dahn sarf , to tw@t his man.

So he searched for Sean, in them there parts.
But he’d gone to work, to play some darts.

Right! P thought, this means war.
He got out his crayons, began to draw.

Sean hit back, there is no doubt.
Alas outgunned, ‘cos his pen ran out.

P upped the ante, he turned to verse.
Dear o dear, he made it worse.

Sean was angry, easy to goad.
He’d fight fire with fire, poem with ode.

So now they fight, like bull and bear.
Who will win? Do we care?



McGonagall

Some people are so biased :roll:


(I love those little creatures from despicable me )

ballysmate

McGonagall, the world's worst poet.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_McGonagall

Yossie

"The Tay Bridge Disaster" - oh how I wish I could claim this work as mine (copied from Wiki)

The poem is by far the most famous ever written by McGonagall, and is still widely quoted. It begins:

"Beautiful railway bridge of the silv'ry Tay
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last sabbath day of 1879Which will be remember'd for a very long time."

And it ends:
"Oh! Ill-fated bridge of the silv'ry Tay,I now must conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,Had they been supported on each side with buttresses
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,

seanoconn

The Tay bridge disaster. Brilliant!