Today must be moaning Monday, as we were asked to write a humorous rant about pet hates. I figured that limericks are the perfect format for a good old chunter, so I give you this to chew over.
There’s an ancient old vegan from Stoke,
Who seems like a half decent bloke,
But in the long pizza queue,
He takes two hours to choose,
So, on his artichoke you hope he chokes.
You can’t comprehend what it’s about,
This tendency for Facebook pouts,
The girl takes 42 shots,
In the hope she looks hot,
But you think she looks more like a trout.
In their obsession for posting selfies,
Are they hoping to catch someone wealthy?
Well, it’s a bit of a farce,
If her mouth’s a Hippo’s arse,
Surely, that’s not mentally healthy?
You claim it was nothing that’s bad.
Being hit by your teachers and dad.
Maybe I misunderstood,
Did the beating do you good?
To gain power through pain is so sad.
Have you got that incongruous mate?
Who says body shaming we should all hate.
They say if you’re skinny or blessed big,
You shouldn’t give a frig,
Then say you look amazing when you lose some weight.
What’s with all the frothing and foaming?
Sweet irony of groaning about moaning.
Gives yourselves all a break,
You gammon and snowflakes,
Just be glad if you’re here in the morning.
If you want to be finicky and trite,
And pick out where you feel I’m not right,
With your sense of humour bypass,
You can go kiss my ass,
This is humour, it’s meant to be light.