Taplow is a place so completely unremarkable that even people who live as close to it as I do aren't sure exactly where it is. In fact, I've known people who live there that haven't heard of it.

Anyway, because it's got no fame whatsoever, I thought I might help it out by nominating it for the new limerick game, so get thinking of rhymes because I'll be buggered if I can think of any. Just think yourself lucky I didn't choose Stoke Poges or Milton Keynes!

Just to clarify, the emphasis is on the first syllable and the second is pronounced in the same way as "show", not "cow".

Is it TAP-lo, or is it TA-plo?

TAP-lo.

Caroline now has a remedy
And a way to avoid anonymity.
Instead of "Schlossberg,"
As you've probably heard,
She says her name is still "Kennedy."

I'm in.

Now Jerry, you’ve got to the bottom
Of why, tho en délire she caught ‘im,
Hill’ hung onto Bill
Bore him no ill will
And chose not to run as a Rodham

OK, I don't have anything political and Jeb Rawltar is on Christmas leave, so I thought I would let you see a limerick I wrote while watching my wife bake for Xmas.

I could once gobble down my wife's cake
But right now it's not something I take.
She concocts it with vermin
And worms still a-squirmin',
And it bleeds when it's pierced with a stake.

It is otherwise scrumptious.

Mine is in your PM box...

Got four entries so far from jt, stella, Proofreader and Kalleh. Any more must be in by tomorrow!

Mine should be with you.

Mine's in

OK, here are the entries for Taplow:



Quoth a youth who resided in Taplow
"Here is one thing that our maps show:
Our main source of water,
More famous than Rata,
Has a riparian flow."

jerry thomas sent this poem, which I quite liked, although I think the pronunciation of "Rata" was decided on being the same as "starter" rather than "water", plus I wasn't sure at first where the emphasis should go on lines 2 and 5. Liked it though, especially as he'd done his homework in terms of where Taplow is!



I’ve heard Santa dreads trips to Taplow:
He tells those poor kids on his lap, “No!
“My reindeer’ve gone digi
“And now when it’s frigi
“Won’t without a GPS map go!”

It’s said that when Santa’s in Taplow
He tries to-- by wearing his cap low--
That Stanley to stymie (“ah
Please woncha buy me a
’60 Hough Payloader backhoe!”)

These two were submitted by bethree5 and they're very seasonal indeed! Again, my main thing here is not being sure where to put the emphasis at first, although you can work out how to read it and they are very good.



I was trapped. It was cold. It was crap. Low,
Thick fog hid the path through the gap. “Lo,”
I said, “and behold!”
When a sunbeam gleamed gold
And beyond lay the road out of Taplow.

In terms of the storyline of the poem, I think I would have to say that this one is my favourite - it's certainly starts differently to most and I think the whole idea of it is just brilliant. I would love to have awarded this the winner, but I'd feel terrible if I did because I already decided not to choose others for being uncertain how to read them at first and this one is the same. The fullstops near the ends of the lines make it a little difficult at first because of the pauses they create, but once you are sure of it it's well worth the time to work out.



In the non-descript city of Taplow
There's nothing to do but to nap so
I've decided to change it,
And quite rearrange it
(Our citizens might get the clap, though!)

This one, submitted by Kalleh, is perfect, I think, in terms of syllables, rhyming and emphasis (Except for possibly an extra one in line 3?) so I have to admit that the only reason it wasn't chosen as the winner is due to the subject matter, which really was the only thing left to decide by.



A fruity young harlot from Taplow
In a bar, with her bra, kept its strap low.
The better to proffer
The goods there on offer
Whose purchase brought many a chap low.

A buxom young beauty from Taplow
Made certain she wore her dress strap low.
And the time I like best
Is when she pops a breast,
Which earns her a doff of my cap low.

As I say, the only thing left to choose by was subject matter and that left me with these two - by Richard English and Proofreader respectively - whose subjects lean towards the bawdy, which is always good in my opinion! Because they're so similar in that respect and because they're both perfect in terms of structure, it was a very difficult decision, but eventually I had to admit that I prefer Proofreader's simply because it is that little bit more risqué than Richard's! I know it's crude, but one must be true to oneself and I find it funny



Sooooo, it's down to Proofreader to start off the next game, and to me to wish you all a very merry Christmas and New Year, as I might not be on for a while. Have a good 'un, folks!

Congrats to Proofreader! It's great!

BTW, I don't believe I have an extra syllable in L3, though I realize you didn't select it because of the content anyway.

Nicely done, Stanley.

My thanks to Stanley for having the good taste to know a winner when he sees one. I shall retire to my most private den of iniquity and attempt to find a new topic with a plethora of rhymes which will inspire you to heights of poetic elegance. Or you might be able to write some crappy limericks. Who knows. Stay tuned.

While pondering in my dungeon, I had a thought. Rare as it was, I immediately wrot it down, then lost the paper. However, I think it was along these lines.

As the next limerick game, instead of some hard-to-rhyme place-name, I propose that participants submit a fairy tale or mursery rhyme in your own inimitable limerick style. While perfect limerick forms earn valuable points, originality and creativity may well carry the day.

But please, don't write one with "hickory" as the only word that will indicate to me I should recall "Three Blind Mice," or something similar.

I'd appreciate comments on this idea before we start to make sure we're all agreed. If there is rabble-rousing sufficient unto you rabble, I'll pick an unfortunate town for you to abuse.

In the meantime, here is something I just contributed on OEDILF.

Tried the act with my wife but I blew it.
Like Bob Dole, I was done and I knew it.
Now I'm standing up well
And I now ring her bell
But it took twelve Viagra to do it.

Well, of course I would try that at home,
Any country and any biome.
But I'll cut back on pills
Cause one of my ills
Is I'm completely covered with 'foam.'

"Sault Ste Marie" is a perfectly formed limerick location ....

As in ...

Said the girl from Sault Ste Marie,
"I think someone's following me."
(Note to the reader:
She's the Marching Band's leader,
So everything's as it should be.)

The girl from Sault Ste Marie
Launched herself on a gigantic spree.
And while on that journey
She retained an attorney
Fearing someone might sue Ste Marie.

In Boston they knew Ste Marie
When weirdos were slain, so you see,
They inserted the bitch
In the Witchcrafter's niche,
And that's why they slew Ste Marie.

Said the girl from Sault Ste Marie,
"I think someone's following me.
I like to avoid
Being called paranoid,
But the fog is so thick I can't see."

An observer in Sault Ste Marie
Saw what others can't see:
The rapists all crash
On her bod in a flash
They're eager to screw Ste Marie

I like the idea proofreader but I'm not sure we shouldn't run it as a separate game. I shall write on anyway.