Tuesday, August 14, 2007


WATSON: I say, Holmes.

HOLMES: Yes, Watson?

WATSON: I'm thinking of entering The Times Limerick competition, the theme being Old Mother Hubbard.

HOLMES: Oh, don't bother, old chap. You haven't got a ghostly.

WATSON: Oh, really, old bean? And why's that then?

HOLMES: Because, old man, I've already won it.

WATSON: Already won it? How come?

HOLMES: Because Rollicksome-Braithwaite, the editor, has seen my entry and laughed so much his haemorrhoid's fell out.

WATSON: Good Lord!

HOLMES: He assured me from his hospital bed that my Limerick shall not be surpassed. Indeed, he wants me to be the judge for next year's competition.

WATSON: Good Lord! I didn't know you had a saucy bone in your body, Holmes.

HOLMES: It's almost all sauce, old chum. With a bit of cartilage.

WATSON: (sighs) Is there anything you CAN'T do?

HOLMES: I can't see in the dark or get to the end of Charles Dickens' Great Expectations, irrespective of how many jelly babies I consume.

WATSON: Dashed again. I can't do those things, either. Can't rhyme Hubbard with anything, Holmes. As hard as I try.

HOLMES: Never mind, Botty Watty. You'll come good, eventually. Here, take this Thesaurus. It will provide you with solace and many new words and phrases to add to your internal quandary.

WATSON: Holmes, you fraud. Why, I've got a good mind to phone Frolicking-Rattyweight and expose you.

HOLMES: Oh, come now, Watson. I helped my old pal Roget compile the Thesaurus. I didn't use it. Indeed, I thought up the winning Limerick in 12.56 seconds flat, a world record, I believe, but I ingratiate.

WATSON: I give up, Holmes! I can't compete with you. I'll always be second best.

HOLMES: Not to Hudders, you won't.

WATSON: True. Thank you, Holmes. You're all heart, really, beneath the armadillo-like exterior.

HOLMES: Crumpet at eleven, Watson.

WATSON: Not 'arf! Hudders, get those new satin stockings on, I'm on my way!


Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To fetch her poor dog a bone
But when she bent over
Rover took over
For he had a bone of his own!

1 comment:

Nonnie Augustine said...

Poor Watson...

Old Mother Hubbard
had tea with a dullard
who couldn't tell a bun from a scone.
But Mother was happy
conversation was crappy
compared to this dullard's fine bone.