A Limerick

I am rushing about like a mad thing today so all I can give you is this, which Callan told me many years ago and which, for some reason, I have recently remembered, and recounted to a number of people. So, to give you a bit of a giggle in the depths of revision-based despair, read this, preferably aloud, for best effect:

There was a young lady from Bude,

Who went for a swim in a lake.

A man in a punt

stuck his pole in her ear,

and said, ‘you can’t swim here, it’s private’.

I am truly incredibly cultured. Wonderful. On the other hand I am reading The Poisonwood Bible, by Barbara Kingsolver, at the moment. So I’m sort of doing OK, right?! And then, next, finally, I will make it onto Chekhov, who has been hanging about waiting to be read since Christmas. Sorry, dear…!

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1 Comment

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One response to “A Limerick

  1. Poor old Chekhov… the bugger needs to be read… (You’ll enjoy it, I hope. Enjoy Kingsolver; I never got around to reading any of her stuff for the synoptic paper, and now I probably won’t get the chance for the next few years…)

    On the other hand, I think that limerick is the epitome of class. It’s full of ‘ambiguities’ (technical prac crit term, that, wot…)

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