Parents, I know you’re being slowly driven mad by nursery rhymes.
Singing them over and over and over.
Sometimes even with actions.
Sometimes even with actions in front of other people.
Oh the indignity of it all.
Once we were independent, efficiently functioning, intelligent humans! And now we’ve been reduced to singing overly repetitive lyrics (badly), trying to muster (badly) energy and enthusiasm.
Well have no fear, my grown-up’s guide to nursery rhymes is here, providing you with a slightly different take on your old favourites.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men,
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.
Have you ever seen a more smug looking little shit in all your life?
Despite the, quite frankly, gallant effort and extensive resources ploughed into his recovery by the Palace (ALL the King’s staff were sent to assist as well as some, presumably, medically trained, horses) you can be sure once he’s got home he’s gone straight on the phone to Personal Injury Lawyers 4 U.
Can you imagine the compensation he’s been awarded what with him having fractured his skull?
And what will this mean for the poor King’s insurance premiums?
No word of course on the small detail that the smarmy bollocks was quite probably trespassing trying to climb that wall!
Diddle diddle dumpling my son John,
Went to bed with his trousers on,
One shoe off and one shoe on,
Diddle diddle dumpling my son John.
John’s parents are very blasé about the whole thing aren’t they?
It’s very obvious that John’s been out on the lash. He’s come home drunk as a skunk and passed out on the bed, having only managed to remove a single shoe. We’ve all been there John.
But do his parents lose it? Do they threaten to kick John out if he doesn’t stop treating their house like a hotel?
No, no, no. Rather, they simply make up a cheery little rhyming song about it all.
Definite weed smokers.
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man,
Bake me a cake as fast as you can,
Pat it and prick it and mark it with “B,”
And put it in the oven for baby and me.
Rumour has it that the baker’s man wasn’t a huge fan of the letter B. And when this raving lunatic of a mother, who saw nothing wrong with feeding her baby cake, bustled into his shop demanding a cake marked with “B” ASAP, it was all too much and he refused to make it.
Five little monkeys jumping on the bed,
One fell off and bumped his head,
Mama called the doctor and the doctor said,
“No more monkeys jumping on the bed.”
Four little monkeys jumping…..OK too much.
Look I’m sorry to be judgmental but where are Social Services here?
Despite being warned by the Doctor NOT to let her children jump on the bed, incompetent monkey mama allows it to happen a further FOUR times resulting in all five of her children suffering potential bleeds to the brain.
But let’s not point the finger of blame solely at her.
I know, given the current state of our NHS, it’s unlikely mummy monkey spoke to the same doctor twice, but you would’ve thought at least one would have asked her to bring the monkey concerned to Out of Hours for a check over.
Hush, little baby, don’t say a word,
Mama’s going to buy you a mockingbird.
If that mockingbird won’t sing,
Mama’s going to buy you a diamond ring.
If that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama’s going to buy you a looking glass.
If that looking glass gets broke,
Mama’s going to buy you a billy goat.
If that billy goat…. OK…you get the picture.
I want to know where this woman shops. They have an awful history of faulty products.
I’m guessing this was mummy trying to keep up with the “must-have” toys on this little one’s Christmas list; except the proper mocking birds were all sold out and she couldn’t afford the obscene prices the last few were going for on eBay.
Out of desperation, mummy’s then gone to a rather suspect side street dealer who assured desperate naive mummy that his mocking birds were the real deal, when in fact he’d imported the lot from China.
On a different note, what life lessons are being imparted to this child? “Don’t worry honey, if the toy I got you breaks, I won’t make use of my statutory rights, I’ll simply head straight out and buy you an even better more expensive gift instead.” What a spoilt little fecker that’s going to be.
Rock-a-bye baby on the treetop,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock.
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall.
What in the name of…who in their right mind…
I give up.