Professor Madya FRGS
(Foundation for Research into Gross Stupidity)Once I saw him with a biro
writing a poem on his nose.
How que… I mean, how odd.
but I heard he dries the cutlery with his clothes
Told Professor Grumby to bugger off once,
the man at times is so coarse.
I agree, but what about the car park in early March,
feeding peanuts to a horse.
I was talking to dear old Twutty
who once was invited to his house;
served up cabbage with fried egg and fish for them,
cooked a T bone for the mouse.
To raise the water to wet the flowers,
he threw bananas in the Cam;
smashed Chivers Olde English in the street
just to cause a traffic jam.
I heard he did another trick
with their Histon marmalade;
bought a toothbrush and then he painted
the parking lots in King’s Parade.
The students just can’t make it out
who wonder if he’s quite sane,
the only man in the British Isles
who comes to work by aeroplane.
Not any plane, my dear Potty,
a Piper, or Lear jet is not the one;
has his own tin foil 747
thinks it makes flying a lot more fun.
His logic states that both
the foil and the plane are aluminium,
so to save on expensive landing fee
takes of from the top of his condominium.
He’s been arrested twice in Kuala Lumpur
for breaking civil aviation laws;
gave his prison sentence to different charities.
Told me it was for a very good cause.
And this chap is spreading British culture
around the Asia Pacific rim?
It’s quite appalling. Ah here’s the gutter, Dotty,
jump right in, let’s have a swim.
What will the world think of British Academics?
when expatriates behave this ?
Really rich…I mean highly qualified, foreign students
will certainly give the UK a miss.
You’re on the ball, my dear Professor,
something must be put on track
to improve the facultea’s image.
Umm, use the teaspoon to scratch my back.
Come, my dear colleague Dotty,
the taxi’s here, it’s time to go
off to lower upper Mali
to find if tea can grow in snow.
Right ho, my dear esteemed Professor,
passport, ticket, box of tea.
Yes, and don’t forget your nasal eye drops.
The world needs more of you and me.
Right, what’s our schedule? Where’s the map?
Tonga, or Iceland, East China Sea,
Bordeaux, Murmansk, Vladivostock,
Gabon, Peru, and Urumqi.
Rouen, Calais, Hook of Holland,
the Bering Straits to North Siberia
Urals, Don, the Anatolia, Rhodes, Crete,
to the Atlas Mountains, west Algeria.
There are so many places we’ve to go
the map is getting such a mess.
But with forty countries in fifteen days,
we’re bound to get FRGS.
The problem now for both us,
bathing in our usual fame,
is where on earth we find the space
to put more letters after our name.
Let’s see. Professor Potty BSc MA PGCE
FRCS ACCA FRCO FRCP
MD MLitt B Nur B Eng MRPS MIME
B Ed B Good B Off B Bold B Quiet FRSTea
I don’t have a pet frog. It comes in to the kitchen at night.
OK I may talk to it, but not for hours;
perhaps it runs in the family, for my mother used to talk to the flowers
and I do hope the cicak, when he sees a mosquito, will to try to bite.
And yes, I do buy Histon marmalade,
once got a parking ticket in King’s Parade,
pretty woman, too.
Grumby? Dotty?
Twutty? Potty?
I can’t play the piano, apart from a few chords, certainly not the cello;
the viola, yes. Garlic milk? The thing I drink most is Chinese tea,
but, unlike the two morons here, I really am a Fellow
of the Royal Geographical Society.
You were. They withdrew it.
Why?
Bringing the RGS into disrepute.
