Oliver wanted to read a book. But he’d forgotten how. He picked one up. He looked at. He frowned at it. He moved it up to his face. He kissed it. He cried on it. He pushed it through his eyes and into his brain and out of the back of his skull. He gave it 3 stars on Amazon.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Kerry got ready for her charity cycle
to WorkDay, the tiny unknown island in Greece…
She got a new passport
Polished her expensive, fancy bike
Held a bake sale in the office
Set up a blog to document her training
Raised £6,000 from her loved ones
Recovered from a niggling knee injury
But then eventually couldn’t go through with it
As she realised WorkDay was less a Greek island
And more a terrible joke that didn’t really
Have much legs and just slowly petered out
To quite an awkward end line
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Harold filled up a barrel with boiled water,
64 teabags and eight pints of full fat milk.
He smiled lovingly as he opened the door
to see Edith wearing his favourite cardigan,
clutching a 12-foot homemade Hob Nob
and a 10-pack of condoms.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
The robot hated its lips.
It hated its feet, too.
As well as its rubbish torso,
weird shaped head,
having no arms and its creepy eyes.
Also, what was the deal with that shit aerial on its head?
Looks like a bloody teaspoon, mate.
Its creator really was terrible.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
The busy body
was so bloody busy
he lost his bloody body!
So he bled
and bled
and bled
to death.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
It was lunchtime,
So he climbed inside a sandwich
And waited for Eric.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
The dog did a poo.
It was pretty big,
quite smelly and
rather sloppy.
But the interesting thing
was where he did the poo –
it was somewhere you
really wouldn’t expect.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
A big banker gave his massive,
massive bonus to a charity,
which is actually quite funny
because we don’t really
expect that behaviour from someone like him.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
The employee wanted to care.
She wanted to care so much
and about every tiny little thing.
But she just didn’t.
So then she worried.
She worried so much
and about every tiny little thing.
Six months later she got promoted!
Which was terrifying.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
29. The age of Kasper, son of Peter. I don’t think you would’ve heard of him in a footballing context, but he’s turned out pretty good. The last solid memory I have of you in goal was when I tripped backwards and broke my wrist. I opted for the Jamie Vardy blue cast, way before that 29-year-old was even in non-league, let alone playing for England. Time can fog the mind and death most certainly tints it rosie but, while I remember you laughing as I hit the ground, you were definitely the first to check I was ok. Probably. 14 years ago we were asked to write letters you’d never read. “Almost gone the whole season unbeaten. Just need to win against Leicester. Easy.” How times have changed. I watched them lift the trophy this year and thought of what you might have achieved – besides, of course, making me well up at a smiling Wes Morgan.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
