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 I have decided it is time to unleash another of my verbal rhymings on the unsuspecting world. This was written about 8 years ago, when my children were 12, 8 and 3 year old twins.  The limited response to my previous effort leads me to believe that I will not be publishing my first book of verse any time soon. Enjoy.


The alarm rings at quarter to seven,

In my dreams I was in heaven,

At the sound of that bell,

I’m back into hell,

The next time for bed’s half eleven.

It’s time for brekfast with my four boys,

I step all over their toys,

Milks been spilt on the floor,

I rush for the door,

At work how I’ll long for that noise.

An hour later still stuck in the car,

I wish work wasn’t that far,

My cars overheating,

Late for a meeting,

Doing this every day is bizarre.

Eighteen messages left on my phone,

Most of them having a moan,

By the end of the day,

They’ll all go away,

I’ll deal with them all on my own.

Now it’s time for the evening repeat,

Home to my little retreat,

My wife’s at the door,

She’s cleaned up the floor,

She really is ever so sweet .

Now I’ll put all my children to bed,

It soon clears my messed up head,

On the computer,

Read Harry Potter,

I kiss each one on the head.

Cook dinner, wash up, have a shower,

If I’m quick I’ll have half an hour,

Some time for a think,

And maybe a drink,

Tell my wife how I love her.

Half eleven and now for some rest,

My day was another big test,

I musn’t grumble,

I feel so humble,

My family is the best.



 Hands up who has a good word to say about “H R”. No-one, no didn’t think so. What is the fucking point of “H R”? I will continue to put “H R” in inverted commas because they are the type of people who do that thing with their index and middle finger every time they finish a “sentance”. They live their lives from the pages of the latest business gurus musings. “Oh right so you need to ditch your worst performing 10% every year to maintain a worker performance ratio of 3 to 1 for every new starter of indescriminate gender origins.” Well if it works for Herman Reichenbach III and his paper manufacturing empire in Boise, Idaho it’ll work for me. Bollocks, leave things alone, if it isn’t broken don’t try and fix it, if you don’t understand it don’t pretend you do then try and implement it. Appraisals, performance management…. for fucks sake, do I do my job properly? If the answers yes pay me and fuck off, if the answers no sack me and fuck off. What is “H R” for?

Do you have “H R”? If you do ask yourself this question. “Did I miss “H R” when we didn’t have it and has it made things better since we did? I will guess that you have answered “no” and “no”, if you answered “yes” and “yes” then you must work in “H fucking R”. Start a revolution tomorrow, ask your “H R ” manager for help, create a problem ask the what you should do about the voices in your head, make them earn their fucking money. They are supposed to help, get everyone in your office to see them tomorrow and demand an answer to some perceived wrong doing. Their heads will explode with the strain, they will try and find a similar case in one of their fucking handbooks. They won’t know what to do, run them out of your building and out of your lives forever.