THE ‘BLOW FLY MAN’ OF PENTONVILLE – A verse of monumental stupidity!

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I will remain incarcerated,

Until the day I die,

And banged up here in solitary,

I have befriended a blowfly.

 

I was going to call him Ernest,

After my old dad,

But since dad was an evil bastard,

I named my blowfly Chad.

 

After the bloke I murdered,

Tell the truth he was a good lad,

It’s just that Chad had overlooked,

The fact I’m stark raving bonkers mad.

 

This new Chad, Chad the blowfly,

He serves to calm me down,

Since the day that I befriended him,

I’ve yet to cast a frown.

 

His favourite place is the slop bucket,

He sticks to it like glue,

Yet I’m careful not to splatter him,

When I require a number two.

 

Just last week Chad and I,

Had a right good proper time,

I filled a saucer up with the prison gravy,

For to me it tastes like slime,

 

Yet my little blowfly chum,

Thought it the very best thing,

He got in such an awful mess,

I had to help him clean his wing.

 

So thank you little blowfly friend,

For the hours of fun you’ve given me,

Without the pleasure of your presence here,

I’d be up the proverbial gum tree.

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15 thoughts on “THE ‘BLOW FLY MAN’ OF PENTONVILLE – A verse of monumental stupidity!

    1. There’s a small town in Kent where we live named Borstal and that is – not sure if you use the word in the US – long since the name for all youth offender institutions. Must check a US dictionary to see if it’s in there!

      1. Thanks for that – guess it was presumptuous to think Borstal would have traveled across the pond. India, what with the Raj connections doesn’t surprise though.

      1. No problem sir! It’s those naked girls who distract us. They are all over the internet! Where the hell were they when we were growing up? Pisses me off. Rant! Rave! (Shakes cane at cloud.))

      2. As a kid I used to nick the centrefold from the mags the barber left for the ‘men’ to read while awaiting their haircut. Mind you, back then, a ‘glimpse’ was one’s best hope!

      3. Haw! I remember a mate, Frog, distracted a store owner and I stole his Playboy magazine from a shelf. This was back before there were a million different “men” mags.

      4. That makes me feel old – if I recall correctly the one in the barbers shop was named ‘Men Only’ Don’t think they’d get away with a title like that these days!

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