I got a surprisingly large number of entries for my limerick competition - a claim I agree that is somewhat cast in doubt by the quality of the selection I include below. It seems that the run up to Christmas is actually quite a frantic time for fund managers ( I forget what it was like, it was so long ago ) and composing limericks falls somewhat down the list of things to do.....Here are a few I received though which I thought were particularly worthy of selection:
A salesman I know at SB
Lined up his drive on the tee
With an almighty whack
He buggered his back
And his drive ended up in the sea
A salesman we know at SB
Moved to Cambridge and what did we see?
He used to chase chickens
But now he spouts Dickens
And sings in the choir as Queen Bee
A salesman we know at SB
Moved to Cambridge and what did we see?
His rustic charm, oft told in a yarn
Was the highlight of his weekly
A salesman I knew at SB
Thought he was smart as can be
He suggested a punt
….DS adds – I had to omit the next line completely….
And now he’s not speaking to me
But the winning entry is this one, presented anonymously to give the cruel individual who penned it no undue credit, and selected really to demonstrate to you the sort of thing I have to deal with day in day out rather than for any poetic quality or talent displayed. Abuse, abuse, abuse.
A salesman we know at SB
Moved to Cambridge and what did we see?
His service declined
Yet he moaned and whined
And still demanded a fee.
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