Happy Monday! I hope you all had a good weekend.
Your new limerick challenge is as follows:
CROSS
Your challenge last week was to write a limerick using the word TYPE in it somewhere. Here are your masterpieces:
Rosamund Grundy was an odd sort
She didn’t believe her school report
She decided she was smart
But despite a good start
Her type writing skills were bad I thought.
I was young when I learned how to type
Now I even know about Skype
The stories we tell
On paper or bell
Are really worth all of the hype.
Mary had an awful fate
For her there was no proper mate
Even when hot
Her type he’s not
And compatibility is never great.
–
Bartelby thinks typing is quaint
The sight of a keyboard makes him faint
What seems crazy
Is because he’s lazy
At work he’s no saint.
(Bartelby the Scrivener stopped his proofreading and copying with the phrase “I would prefer not to.”)
I soon realised he wasn’t my type
His Tinder profile was just full of hype
His unwelcome advance
Gave me the chance
To tell him what to stick up his pipe.
When a hundred monkeys began to type
They were well aware of the ensuing hype
That followed them writing from start to finish
A version of Hamlet in pidgin English
Which they performed in spats over a dodgy Skype.
–
Norman Toole was of a certain type
Whose patter was dull and mostly tripe.
He went online to find a mate,
Never landed even one first date
As discerning women would never swipe
(Either left or right).
Bony Tony loved eating tripe,
Served with onions was what he liked.
But he understood
That, when it came to food,
Not everyone was a tripe-lover type.
***
Esther Chilton 
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