901

MEET JACK SCHITT

Jack is the only son of Awe Schitt and O. Schitt, and he has a most interesting family tree, as follows:

In the year of our Lord, Nineteen Fifty Seven, young Awe Schitt, the infamous fertilizer magnate, married
O.Schitt, owner of Needeep N. Schitt Incorporated.
They had one son, baptized Jack.

Jack Schitt grew up and married Noe, and together Jack and Noe Schitt produced seven children:

Holie Schitt (who came to be known as 'The Lucky Schitt')
Fulla Schitt
Shineola (who did not really have the Schitt Face)
Giva Schitt
Bull Schitt (who really did look like Schitt, the father),
and the twins: Dip Schitt and Deap Schitt.

Dip Schitt was not very bright, and was known as 'The stupid Schitt', and she married Dumb Schitt,
a brash school drop-out who happened to share the same last name (but no relation, however).
Friends affectionately nicknamed them 'The Schitts'. Their marriage produced no little Schitts.

The other twin, Deap Schitt, went on to build an impressive deodorant empire, which became famous
for its big brand slogan: 'Smell Like Schitt'. Interestingly, however, that slogan only worked just in
the United States, and another striking slogan did become more popular in the U.K: 'Put a dab of Schitt
on your pits.' Then when the company launched its popular product into Australia, another, third slogan
was used very successfully: 'Smell Like Schitt Down Under'.

But soon, trouble developed, and Noe Schitt divorced Jack and promptly married a spiritual man named Ted
Sherlock. But being a modern westernized woman, she decided to hyphenate her name. She then became
known as Noe Schitt-Sherlock.

Jack was depressed at having lost his Noe, but in his fifties, he got hitched to a nice little lady named Loda.
The blushing well-matched bride, Loda Schitt, produced an undersized son of a nervous disposition, whom
they named Chicken Schitt.

Jack and Loda went on to produce two more boys, Krappy Schitt and Ugglee Schitt. These healthiest of
athletic brothers, Krappy and Ugglee, married the tall, stunning Happens Sisters in an often emotional,
dual ceremony.

That 'Schitt-Happens' wedding was a huge affair, and their timely union also produced more Schittistics:

Dawg Schitt
Byrd Schitt
Hoarse Schitt
and Pigh Schitt.

But once more, alas, Jack lost the love for his wife, and left to tour the world. He recently returned from an
architectural, romantic visit to Italy with his newest, latest bride, Pisa.

At present, the unfaithful, lustful Jack Schitt and his third wife, sluttish flirt, Pisa Schitt, are it is thought,
themselves living without children in New York; on the finest property they have, which contains a stream of
water that is known to the locals as 'Schitt Creek.'

From now on, no-one can say that you don't know Jack Schitt!

902

RUNNING BEAR
By
Johnny Preston

On the banks of the river stood Runnin' Bear, young Indian brave
On the other side of the river stood his lovely Indian maid
Little White Dove was-a her name, such a lovely sight to see
But their tribes fought with each other so their love could never be

Runnin' Bear loved Little White Dove with a love big as the sky
Runnin' Bear loved Little White Dove with a love that couldn't die

He couldn't swim the raging river 'cause the river was too wide
He couldn't reach little white dove, waiting on the other side
In the moonlight he could see her blowing kisses 'cross the waves
Her little heart was beating faster, waiting there for her brave

Runnin' Bear loved Little White Dove with a love big as the sky
Runnin' Bear loved Little White Dove with a love that couldn't die

Runnin' Bear dove in the water, Little White Dove did the same
And they swam out to each other through the swirling stream they came
As their hands touched and their lips met, the ragin' river pulled them down
Now they'll always be together in that happy hunting ground

Runnin' Bear loved Little White Dove with a love big as the sky
Runnin' Bear loved Little White Dove with a love that couldn't die

RUNNING BARE
(Cheekily devoted to the unclothed Clive)

I was sleeping with Hettie Villier, but her husband didn't know,
One day we both were in her boudoir, naked in love's afterglow,
Then we heard a car below us, draw into their gravel drive,
Hettie yelled, "It's husband Billy, dive out the window, get lost Clive!"

Runnin' bare down Hever High Street, oh how will I survive the shame?
Runnin' bare with not a stitch on, Hettie Villier, do I hate that dame!

Everybody was lookin' at me, and I heard a lone voice shout,
"Ooh, it's Clive, vain little devil! What an odd place to hang out!"
Another hooted, "Little devil? Well, the 'little' bit is right!"
Then the vicar's wife came by me, she looked and cried out : "Holy shite!"

Runnin' bare down Hever High Street, private bits all out there on show,
Runnin' bare, this living nightmare, will it never, ever go?

I went by this little garden, saw their washin' on the line,
My objective was survival, those clothes will have to do me fine.
Vaulted lithely over their gate then grabbed whatever came to hand,
Shoved them on, thought of the owners, thought that they would understand.

Runnin' there down Hever High Street, but I never got too far,
Pretty soon I got arrested in a tutu and strapless bra!

903

Ed Sheeran – Galway Girl

She played the fiddle in an Irish band,
But she fell in love with an English man.
Kissed her on the neck, and then I took her by the hand,
Said, "Baby, I just want to dance."

I met her on Grafton Street right outside of the bar.
She shared a cigarette with me, while her brother played the guitar.
She asked me, "What does it mean the Gaelic ink on your arm?"
Said, "It was one of my friend's songs. Do you want to drink on?"

She took Jamie as a chaser, Jack for the fun.
She got Arthur on the table, with Johnny riding as shotgun.
Chatted some more, one more drink at the bar,
Then put Van on the jukebox, got up to dance, you know.

She played the fiddle in an Irish band
But she fell in love with an English man.
Kissed her on the neck and then I took her by the hand,
Said, "Baby, I just want to dance,
With my pretty little Galway Girl."
You're my pretty little Galway Girl.

You know she beat me at darts, and then she beat me at pool,
And then she kissed me like there was nobody else in the room.
As last orders were called, was when she stood on the stool,
After dancing to cèilidh, singing to trad tunes.
I never heard Carrickfergus ever sung so sweet,
Acapella in the bar using her feet for a beat.
Oh, I could have that voice playing on repeat for a week,
And in this packed out room, swear she was singing to me.

You know, she played the fiddle in an Irish band
But she fell in love with an English man.
Kissed her on the neck, and then I took her by the hand
Said, "Baby, I just want to dance."
My pretty little Galway girl.
My my my my my my my Galway girl
My my my my my my my Galway girl
My my my my my my my Galway girl

Now we've outstayed our welcome, and it's closing time.
I was holding her hand, her hand was holding mine.
Our coats both smell of smoke, whisky and wine,
As we fill up our lungs with the cold air of the night.

I walked her home then she took me inside,
Finished some Doritos, and another bottle of wine.
I swear I'm going to put you in a song that I write
About a Galway girl, and a perfect night.

She played the fiddle in an Irish band
But she fell in love with an English man.
Kissed her on the neck, and then I took her by the hand
Said, "Baby, I just want to dance."
My pretty little Galway girl.
My my my my my my my Galway girl
My my my my my my my Galway girl
My my my my my my my Galway girl
Hey!

Medway Girl

She came from Twydall, but she lives in Strood,
And her mobile to her hand was glued,
A pouty Facebook pic, fake lashes, and with a flower in her hair,
I said, "Hi honey, can I take you for a drink?"

I joined her first in the Waghorn, then hit the Alex instead,
(You know, the one by a statue with a roadcone on its head).
In Wickes' carpark she got passionate, we kissed on the lips,
And then I know she defo came...she dropped her bag of chips.

We strolled hand-in-hand along New Road, I guessed that trouble's no doubt brewing,
A great-granny by thirty-nine...now THAT takes some doing!
We went down into the Delce, to see if she could grab,
Some snout in the Co-Op, and an Indian or a kebab.

She's a Twydall native, but moved into Strood,
There ain't much of her body that ain't tattooed,
She's a cross between Kim Kardashian and Waynetta Slob,
I said "The only one I truly want,
Is my skinny little Medway girl,
Oh, my pretty little Medway girl,
You're my pretty little Medway girl."

We had a fight in the Charlotte, hell, I've still got the scar!
I got two black eyes, a headache, and her vomit in the car.
When the filth showed up, it didn't take her long at all to clock it,
So she stashed my sniff away, up in her "Chatham pocket".

No knickers came in handy here, oh there ain't no denying,
Although it made things easier, it naturally didn't stop me trying!
We got banished from The Eagle...maybe her language "unbecoming",
She was getting so keen, wouldn't keep her hands off my plumbing.

She came from Twydall, but she's now in Strood,
She had a "Like, wha'evah!" attitude,
Funny eyebrows like skidmarks,
She's all I ever need, she's my skinny Medway girl,
My my my my my my my only Medway girl.

We had a brilliant night, I said "Hun, like to do it again?"
She went "Hang abaht until the babysitter's gone, by half ten.
My Jayden-Jay's in jail again, Jordan Junior's out thieving,
Rihanna-Angel's at her dad's all night,
Though my Nevaeh-Grace is teething".

She had her third Jägerbomb, then we finally went on to hers,
Shagging doggy-style all night to the hits of Olly Murs.
Like Ulrika, she's a "Four-by-Four", but now I'm the new legal owner,
See me on the Jeremy Kyle Show soon...as her Number Five sperm donor.

My pretty little Medway girl,
My my my my my my my Medway girl,
My my my my my my my Medway girl,
My my my my my my my Medway girl.

904

A POEM BY KIM JONG-CHUL

If I had my ideal world I would not allow weapons and atom bombs any more.
I would destroy all terrorists with the Hollywood star Jean-Claude van Damme.
I would make people stop taking drugs.
I would even destroy the word “DRUG” to make people forget about it.
I would make everybody get good jobs.
Everybody would be happy: no more war, no more dying, no more crying.
Then I would make a rule (Do not believe in God.) God doesn’t help and there is no God.
I would make people believe in themselves, and they would work hard for their happiness and success waiting in their future.
I would make the whole world use only one language, which would be Korean, and I would make all people have the same amount of money: no rich people, no poor people.
Only in my ideal world can the people have freedom and live very happily.

WOULD MY POEM ON KIM JONG-UN MOVE YOU TO EUPHORIA?

We've woven facts, now ideologies, too.
About a pinguid guy so really true.
Overdeveloped worm, worldwide fool
Secretly would attend a Swiss school.

The Moranbong Band the best K-POP?
Horrible weepy poop, a mammoth flop!
Wildly hung-up on Michael Jordan anew;
Dennis Rodman, the plump hippo would woo.

Overweight leader by default oddly;
Somehow China did believe he's very cuddly.
In a whole 'hood, glaringly appalling,
A jeered General without military training!

He would undergo bloody surgery to look
Like Eternal Leader grampa, a kook.
Even upheld DPRK anytime as a 'paradise'?!
Nationwide employed many 'bomb' lies!

The meek people kowtowed ... so he downed,
Yellowly knocked them off via mortar round.
Relieved, obliterated a mutinous uncle he had
He's not insane, he's power mad!