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The iambic Assassin is a poet, a promoter of silly verse
Listen to Mark's first radio interview
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The iambic Assassin (Mark Jefferis) is a poet, but as he likes to call himself a promoter of silly verse. He was first drawn to poetry whilst reading limericks in The Topper children's comic book at about the age of 8 and can still remember a few of them. In his teens he became a big fan of The Goons, especially Spike Milligan, who he managed to see when Spike was at the ripe old age of 80 playing a gig at The Civic Hall, Wolverhampton. It was 1998, the year 'On The Ning Nang Nong' was voted Britain's favourite comic poem. He enjoys the odd debate with people about politics, peoples idiosyncrasies and life in general, but sometimes feels he can't get his points over at the time and so likes to pack a punch with words when he gets home to his pub-shed, 'The No Dog and Bastard’. |
He loves spit and sawdust real ale pubs so if you catch him in one, maybe buy him a pint and he'll reel off either poems, limericks or haikus if you so wish of course.
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"Talented and clever wordsmith, who weaves poetry into stories which are as funny as they are poignant."
- Clare Ferguson-Walker
Quiches without pastry are like Mad Hatters without their hats.
My Wife Goes To Fat Club
My wife goes to fat club,
'But your wife's not fat',
I know, but my wife goes to fat club,
And that is bloody that!
She's started cooking nice things,
Exceedingly the best bakes well,
What can I suggest to you,
But vittles with zero sins,
Not nourishing to me,
But nice things for people who are thin,
But think they are fat,
Quiches without pastry,
Are like Mad Hatters without their hats,
But my wife's gone to fat club!
She 'sez' to keep her thin,
Nothing amylaceous,
Goodness gracious,
Such food is rude a multitude of sins,
So fat club folk put one foot down
And feed them to the bin.
Sugar-free beans,
Perhaps some chicken,
Sugar-free soup,
She's cock-a-hoop,
Tenuous sins,
That add up to no more than four,
I eat some, it's really nice, but I want more and more and more and more.
That'll be sixteen sins my love
She utters, oh my god,
What have these fat thin folk,
These people, those nutters, done to my wife?
She's nice, she's just right
But my wife goes to fat club.
Someone came knocking at the door,
I answered it, and there before, me, was a medium thin fat she,
To my demise these days my eyes cannot distinguish things or size.
The lady at the door said "is your wife in?"
I said "no, my wife's gone to Fat Club" But your wife's thin, may I come in? Yes I said, stay out, oh no I've used the antonym,
Like thin to fat and fat to thin,
I do get so confused it seems to my chagrin.
I said, "are you thin? no you're fat" and with that she turned and left and shouted back, "you twat",
I called out, sorry another word misused, don't feel abused,
You see my wife's slim, she's trim, to me she's everything,
But my wife gone to Fat Club.
In disguise, she's the perfect size, Just like him, Fat Girl Slim,
Normal quantitative cooking,
Another malapropism,
But I'm in the rhythm,
Right here, Right now,
My wife's Wonder Stuff,
But she's not the size of a,
Pow Wow, holy slimming world zeitgeist, Jesus Christ,
My wife's gone to Fat Club!
'But your wife's not fat',
I know, but my wife goes to fat club,
And that is bloody that!
She's started cooking nice things,
Exceedingly the best bakes well,
What can I suggest to you,
But vittles with zero sins,
Not nourishing to me,
But nice things for people who are thin,
But think they are fat,
Quiches without pastry,
Are like Mad Hatters without their hats,
But my wife's gone to fat club!
She 'sez' to keep her thin,
Nothing amylaceous,
Goodness gracious,
Such food is rude a multitude of sins,
So fat club folk put one foot down
And feed them to the bin.
Sugar-free beans,
Perhaps some chicken,
Sugar-free soup,
She's cock-a-hoop,
Tenuous sins,
That add up to no more than four,
I eat some, it's really nice, but I want more and more and more and more.
That'll be sixteen sins my love
She utters, oh my god,
What have these fat thin folk,
These people, those nutters, done to my wife?
She's nice, she's just right
But my wife goes to fat club.
Someone came knocking at the door,
I answered it, and there before, me, was a medium thin fat she,
To my demise these days my eyes cannot distinguish things or size.
The lady at the door said "is your wife in?"
I said "no, my wife's gone to Fat Club" But your wife's thin, may I come in? Yes I said, stay out, oh no I've used the antonym,
Like thin to fat and fat to thin,
I do get so confused it seems to my chagrin.
I said, "are you thin? no you're fat" and with that she turned and left and shouted back, "you twat",
I called out, sorry another word misused, don't feel abused,
You see my wife's slim, she's trim, to me she's everything,
But my wife gone to Fat Club.
In disguise, she's the perfect size, Just like him, Fat Girl Slim,
Normal quantitative cooking,
Another malapropism,
But I'm in the rhythm,
Right here, Right now,
My wife's Wonder Stuff,
But she's not the size of a,
Pow Wow, holy slimming world zeitgeist, Jesus Christ,
My wife's gone to Fat Club!
More poems, limerics and haikus
Lycra ladies, lycra lads, Sun shades slip streamed lycra dads!
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