The Changing Face of Comedy  (Limerick) 

By Sis Unsworth

Comedy today just passes me by

It was much more fun then, and I know why

Just fun was intended,

and few were offended,

So what's happened to humour, I sigh?

Sis

Riddles 33

 Riddles 33

By the Riddler 

The Riddler has two puzzles for us today: 

No 1.  Which letter will complete the following sequence?     

            A F K P ?       (U S V or G?)

 

No 2. .  Which is the odd man out...? 

Brick, Cambrian, Postmark, Madam, Chalice, Gimmick 

Keep em coming Riddler

 

The Baby Boomers

 The Baby Boomers 

By Barbara Thomas 

 We have listened to the W Y. Z’d’s plus the Naughty Nineties generations so let’s share the life of the Baby Boomer generation.

 1938-1945 

 Well, that’s us. Most of us would still be a twinkle in our Dad’s eyes if it hadn’t been for Herr Adolf Hitler, (formally a house painter, soon to become one of the most hated and evil man of his time) unless of course you were a Frauline or a Heinz. 

 Well, let’s see: First came the phoney war, followed by what would later be referred to as: The Second World War. Our Fathers were drafted, seconded, and many enlisted. 

 Time was precious, very few weekend passes before embarkation. Girlfriend’s promising to be there (where ever that was) when their gallant men and women came marching home. 

 Rules were broken, the men in the forces explaining to their girl friends “Oh come on only once it won’t hurt, I’ll be careful, promise, it will be something to remember me by when I’m away fighting for King and Country”. 

 

 Oh! how many times those words were spoken? So off went our brave men leaving their wives, and girlfriends, crying at railway stations. 

 

 As the war gathered momentum, many civilians in the British Isles were either killed injured or made homeless through constant bombing, life was hard but harder still for the women who had succumbed to the passion of that moment. 

 

First came the sickness, then missed monthlies, then the reality that they were pregnant. Married women although not at all happy at their situation at least were in wedlock, the other poor wretches, in many cases, were disowned by family, thrown out and told not to return.  

 The maternity wards were full, especially during the months after the war began. Then the men would come on leave, and then off back to war with more pregnancies until the orphanages were busting at the seams. Although women shared the same goal, survival, some fell by the wayside, destitute.  

 Hitler did his worst on British cities, towns, and villages, but through all this the women grew stronger and more defiant. 

 Then single women were seconded to the land to carry out farm duties, work in factories, driving ambulances, buses even delivering planes. Princess Elizabeth (our future Queen) became an ambulace driver.

 They never complained they just got on with the job, more times than not with their children clinging on their mother’s skirts.  

 Mothers with several children were exempt, but they kept family and home together against amazing odds.  

 Today’s naughty nineties and X, Y, Z’s poke fun at the fashion that women wore then and the songs that were sung,  the elderly still calling the radio “the wireless”. (Where children would take the batteries on a pram down to the oil shop to be topped up) These people have no idea that most homes, in fact many homes had no electricity, hot water, no bathroom only the large tin bath hanging outside on the wall in the yard which everyone used and one bath a week down at the communal baths, where a pump outside would open up from a key outside, for the water to fill their baths.  

 This was the world we Baby Boomers grew up in, no fancy foods, the meal was put on the table and you ate what you were given. The music we listened to was our parents choice. We sat and listened to the Archers every night. My brothers used to listen to ‘Dick Barton Special Agent’, under the bedclothes, on a home made crystal set, the highlight of their day. By the time the men returned home after 6 long years the cast had been set, Mum’s word was law.  

 The War Babies, as I prefer to call them were brought up to respect others. Not all of them did I know, and those children become feral and unfortunately drifted into a life of crime. 

 Schools were full, with the children that had been born either at the start, middle and end of the War. Just a thought, many may not have existed had it not been for the war.

Barbara Thomas 3/03/2026

 

The Aldridge Family Tree

 The Aldridge Family Tree

Barbara Thomas 

Two people met and fell in love got married and sometime later had a baby girl. Her parents pride and joy. Then we were three. Growing up she gave us so much pleasure. We could hardly believe that between us we had made this beautiful creature.

Through out her childhood, adolescence, then adulthood, our love for her remained the same. 

 Then the time came when she had a serious boyfriend, an engagement followed later by the wedding, we looked on amazed at this woman who came from our love for each other. 

 Also recalling that the last time she wore a beautiful white dress and was at her 1st Communion, and here she was all grown up and getting married. 

 Several years later our daughter and son-in-law told us that we were going to be grandparents. We were ecstatic.

 Now we will be four. 

 Our 1st granddaughter was a delight. soon to be followed by another grandchild, once again a beautiful baby girl. Our family was expanding, 

 (not counting our son in law) We were now Five. 

 When our little girls were very young I thought my life had ended when my funny Peter Pan of a husband had a fatal heart attack at home and died in my arms. My Daughter and I were devastated. These little girls would never know how much their grandad had cared and loved them both.  

A few years later unfortunately our Daughter’s marriage broke down. (Funny word that “broke down”). It was a shock, but our daughter fell in love again and eventually married. 

 After several years my daughter and her second husband produced two more grandchildren. Our lovely grandsons, who once again sadly would never know their lovely grandad. 

 Then we were Seven. 

 The grandchildren were a delight to be with and through their kindergarten days schools, College and University, I revelled at their achievements.

Then one day I received a phone call from my eldest granddaughter, she was pregnant. I was going to be a Great grandmother. I received the news with joy and pain. I hid my thoughts from the family and had a few tears when I was on my own. 

I would talk to my deceased husband as if he was still with us. I told him the news that we would be having a great grandchild to add to our forever growing family.

 The baby arrived, a beautiful baby girl, I cried that only I would be seeing this child knowing that my late husband would have adored her.  

 Our little dynasty had become eight. 

 The fact that just two people who mattered so much to each other would eventually be connected to all these children with our blood circulating in their bodies. 

The family tree was growing. 

 

 Barbara Thomas 27/02/2026

 

SCHOOL DAYS

 SCHOOL DAYS

Jeffrey Porter

Norman James,

“Every member of my team is the captain, we must win.”

They played many teams, yet every year they lose every match,

They were trained to laugh at their defeat.

El futbol but it was more like a net ball match.

Twenty-five to zero, twenty to zero and they still played on

The spectators and their friends still came to see them

The women and girls still screamed and cheered them on.

They were heroes; they were trained not to fear defeat.

Norman, he was the greatest captain  

At the end of every game, he was ‘man of the match’.

He walked off the field laughing, “we don’t play games,” 

He would tell the winners congratulating them,

“Every member of my team is the captain, a Major Victory.” 

For years; the coach, Players, and spectators were disappointed.

They were taught to be emotionally tough.

They won no trophies or commercial contracts, but –

After every match, around the field they would do a lap.

With supporters crying and cheering, they would clap.

They were trained not to fear defeat, they were all stars

They were trained for the greatest game of all.

Graduation:

They did not attend their graduation,

It would be too sad, too solemn, the worst occasion.

So, weeks before, their supporters came,

From every direction, the men shook their hands

The women and girls cried and hugged them

Will we ever see them? Few people knew when they left,

They walked away one by one, sometimes in twos

They walked away without looking back  

They gained all the ‘O’ levels they sat.

They lost every game they played –

But they won the greatest game of all.  

copyright Jeffrey Porter

Daffodil

                    Daffodil    

                    Jane Scoggins

I am handled with care,

    Laid on the ground to wait.

 It is not what I expected,

And yet not unexpected

 

A patter of raindrops

And wind in the trees.

I hear the sounds clearly

But not able to see

 

         And now the tender fingers  

Hold me briefly again,

Before cool darkness

     Surrounds and enfolds me

 

I feel reassured, sleepy

  Beneath the brown covers

I am content to be still..

And content to wait

 

      When at last the March sun

     Comes to warm my body,

I stretch out my slim

Green arms to the sky

 

Then turn my golden face

To the fluttering breeze,

Aware now of my beauty,

And of my place on earth

Copyright Jane Scoggins

 THE CASE AGAINST FRANCES HOPKINS

By Bob French

Margaret Simpson, a 38-year-old clerk of Barkingside Magistrates Court stared at the door behind the Bench waiting for it to open. When she saw it move, she stood, cleared her throat; and in a crisp sharp voice said “All rise. Justice Henrietta McDonald presiding”

          Whilst the public were noisily taking their seats, Margret Simpson turned to the bench and went through the motions of informing the judge, who she was dealing with today. The judge, who never heard a thing due to the noise of those trying to be seated in the public gallery, nodded her thanks. As she glanced up she noticed that the public galleries and some of the isle seats were packed with females and made a note to find out why there were no males.

          After Mr. Frances Hopkins confirmed his name and address, the judge nodded, then looked up and glanced down at the barrister who was prosecuting Mr. Hopkins.

          “Where is Miss Newton?”

          The young-looking barrister coughed and in a rather timid voice apologized and said “she was called away suddenly.”

          She then nodded to Mr. Jones, who was defending Hopkins. He had impressed her having been appointed to the Bar a year or so ago and was doing rather well.

          The barrister for the prosecution stood, held his lapels as they did on television and began laying out his case against Hopkins.

          Justice McDonald interrupted him and leant forward.

          “Sorry, forgive me, but I didn’t catch your name?

          “I do beg your pardon Your worship. William Thornton, I was appointed to your chambers last week your worship”

          She stared down at Mr. Thornton and made a mental note to have a stern word with her chambers.  “Please carry on.”

          After ten minutes, the judge interrupted Mr. Thornton.  “I would be grateful if you would get to the point of the case or we shall be here untill lunch time.”

          “Sorry your worship.  Mr. Hopkins is being charged with…… He paused and looked down at his notes which were scattered across his desk. “Um, Ah, Theft your worship.”

          “Go on.”

          Thornton didn’t understand the judge’s question.  He was now panicking.  His mind was racing.  Did she mean that I should start my case or explain the case against Hopkins? 

          It was then that she realized that before her was a young man who should not be in the court room and was going to make sure that his first case would be remembered by many of those who practiced law.

          Before he could come to a decision, the judge banged her gavel.

          “Mr. Thornton please sort out your briefing notes, then take a deep breath and begin please. Now what is he being charged with?”

          James Thornton had read Law and gained a first at Oxford and had been granted a two-year apprenticeship, but as he was the ‘new boy,’ he was given menial tasks such as filing and diary keeping.  His father, Sir Wentworth Buckingham Thornton, a prominent Old Baily trial judge had pulled a few strings and once James had completed his apprenticeship, his father applied for his son to be admitted to the Bar Standards Board.  Of course, his application was approved without question and young James Thornton was admitted to the Bar. This upset many of those who had been practicing law for years.

          James had a secret?  He had spent all his teen years swatting for exams, and then when he went up to Oxford, where most students lost their virginity, James hid himself in the college library.  In short, he was afraid, no petrified of females, not older ladies, but those in their twenties who thought nothing of their promiscuous behaviour.  Their confidence and over bearing attitude frightened him.  He looked at his notes again, then took a deep breath. 

          “He is charged with the theft of, he paused, ‘dames sous les vetements’.”  The court room suddenly fell silent.  The judge looked up and stared at Thornton, who was now wishing he was a thousand miles away.

          “Mr. Thornton, in English if you please.”  She waited for a minute or two then realizing as she studied his face that he was blushing.  She smiled as she understood now why Miss Newton had suddenly made herself unavailable for today’s case.

          “For the sake of clarity and understanding, I am to believe that Mr. Hopkins is being charged with stealing ladies underclothes.  Is that right Mr. Hopkins?”

          Hopkins stared at the judge, then down at his barrister, who had sat down and was trying to hide himself amid his case files, then back up to the judge.  “Naa, sorry luv. It was Knickers!”

          The public galleries burst in to laughter; some were shouting abuse at Hopkins until the judge used her gavel to gain control.

          “I beg your pardon Mr. Hopkins”

          “Knickers. I wus caught wiv a suitcase full of knickers.  But them was me own property see.”   

          The Judge banged her gavel once more, then looked down at Mr. Thornton. “Are you ready to continue your opening statement?”

          He thanked her, then stood. “Members of the jury. The only crime Mr. Hopkins is guilty of is to have been caught with a suitcase full of… he paused………knickers.”   As those in the public gallery started to titter he sat down.

          Mr. Jones stood, glanced down at his notes then began:

          “Do you plead guilty to the charge of theft, in that on the morning of the 12^th of May 1998, you were seen selling these…. garments, out of a suitcase at Shepherds Bush market?”

          “No I don’t! The knickers I was selling on that day were me own collection.”

          “But you were seen by a Miss Davenport, Mrs. Luke and Mr. Smith.  In Miss Luke’s statement she states that she recognized her… underwear.

          Suddenly from the public gallery a woman stood up and shouted.

          “Come on Frankie, last week you tried to sell me, me own knickers, and Joseys at number 23.”

          The judge could see that the two young barristers were out of their depth and decided to intervene. “Mr. Hopkins. Do you make it a habit of stealing ladies underwear?”

          “Yes me lady.” 

          “And how many pairs of knickers do you have at present?”

          “Depends your honour.  If thems in good nick, I keep them for a couple of weeks, then gives em back.”

          “Why do you steal them in the first place?”

          “Some people saves stamps, cigarette cards or coins.  I collect knickers. Sometimes I gets lucky and find a pair from Paris, so I takes a photo of em, then I washes them un pops em them back through their letter boxes.”

          So you only steal from houses that are close to you?”

          “That’s right. School Road, Orchard Road and Oval Road North, yer honour.  They are all in one place and have a back alley, so I can pop in and out before anyone sees me.”

          The judge looked up into the public gallery.  “Is this correct”.  Do you get your underwear back from Mr. Hopkins?”

          Those in the public gallery erupted with some cheering and some demanding that he had not returned their knickers.”

          “Mr. Hopkins.  Do you keep an address of where you steal these garments from?”

          “Yes your honour.”

          “So, let me see.” She smiled to herself as she looked down at the personal information of the two barristers. “How about 21 Orchard Road?”

          Mr. Hopkins pulled out a scruffy little note book, flipped over a few pages, then looked up.  “One pair ov em belongs to Mrs. Black yer honour.”

          The judge looked up into the public gallery. “Is Mrs. Black here?”

          An elegant woman in a smart brown overcoat raised her hand.

          “Would you please stand.”

After some shuffling of chairs, the woman stood.

          “Thank you Mrs. Black.  Can you describe your missing underwear.”

          “Yes Miss.  They were red lace with butterflies on them, from Woolies.”

          This brought some cheesy comments from those around her, but she ignored them.

          The judge looked down at Mr. Hopkins. “Is Mrs. Black’s description correct?”

          “Yes yer honour.”

          “One last try shall we?  Mr. Hopkins do you have underwear from say number 19 School Road.

          After a minute or two thumbing through his book, Mr. Hopkins looked up at the judge and grinned.

          “I haves a couple o’ pairs from that address yer honour.”

          “Could you describe them please and tell me who they belong to.”

          These are special My lady. Real posh. Designer label from New York.  Ang on a mo, as he flicked through his little book, he grinned up at the judge.

          “They belong to a Mr. Thornton.” Suddenly the whole court room was in hysterics. The public gallery was standing and pointing at James Thornton.

          It took a good ten minutes before the judge could bring order to the court room.

          “We are here today to try Mr. Hopkins for stealing your underwear.  What Mr. Thornton wears is of no interest in this case.”  The judge looks down at Hopkins.

          “What happens when you cannot return the garments to their rightful owner?”

          Hopkins shrugged his shoulder.  “It’s rare that I don’t hand em back, but if I can’t, I pops alf a nicker through their letter box yer honour.

          Everyone in the court cheered and laughed at Hopkins’s reply except the

Judge, who gave up using her gavel.  When silence was achieved, she asked Hopkins to stand.

          “Frances Hopkins, you have been found guilty of petty theft, have you anything to say?”

          “Only that I am sorry yer honour, but I didn’t intend stealing only borrowing, honest.”

          Justice Henrietta McDonald stared at Hopkins for a while, then seemed to come to her senses and smile. “Firstly, you are to choose another hobby, one that does not involve stealing.  Secondly, I am giving you a custodial sentence of 6 months, subject to you returning every single garment you have stolen, and lastly, I appoint Mrs. Black, if she does not mind, to report to me in six months-time with a record showing that you have returned every pair of knickers.  Those items you cannot return, I order you to pay, she paused then chose to speak in his language, a nicker, to compensate those whose knickers were not returned. Do you understand?” 

          He nodded.  Then suddenly the court room erupted into cheers and chaos. No one heard Hopkins’s reply or the judge closing the case against him.

Copyright Bob French