Category Archives: Poorhouse

Theresa May

Theresa May is up a gumtree, she made a mess.

As she is first to confess.

Do you like her dress?

She is a power walker, power strutter, is she a nutter?

She appears to lack empathy, if you know that word.

Are grammar schools absurd?

So I’ve heard.

So said Jones minor of the lower third.

Well I suppose she learned a lesson.

We’ve heard her confession.

Margaret Thatcher did not have advisors, she made up her own mind.

Theresa is not that kind.

Tich Ennis

17th June, 2017

Laugh And Cry

Is it alright to be funny as well on your way to Hell?

Oh well.

Yes, I believe in all that stuff that matters most but I have a sense of humour.

I should say and, so what, love is not a rumour.

So, okay I laugh and cry, I wipe a tear from my eye.

I may cry laughing or die laughing I don’t care which.

It looks like I won’t die rich.

Tich Ennis

7th June, 2017

Medical Consultation

Doctor: What’s your complaint?

Patient: I’m Irish.

Doctor: That’s incurable.

Patient: Is it catching?

Doctor: It depends what you do in your spare time.

Patient: The man who made time made plenty of it.

Doctor: What’s that supposed to mean?

Patient: What it says on the tin.

Doctor: Take off your clothes.

Patient: Why?

Doctor: I want to take a look at you.

Patient: Don’t look while I undress.

Doctor: Tell me when to look.

Patient (undressed): You can look now.

Doctor: It’s a boy!

Patient: It’s well knowing you went to medical school.

Doctor: You didn’t need to take off your underpants.

Patient: I don’t wear underpants.

Doctor: Why not?

Patient: What you don’t know won’t hurt you.

Doctor: Everything that passes between me and you is subject to medical confidentiality.

Patient: That’s a load of bull. What about the freedom of information act?

Doctor: We’ll let that pass. You may make full disclosure.

Patient: I am naked.

Doctor: So I see.

Patient: I take my clothes off when it rains.

Doctor: Why?

Patient: My skin is waterproof.

Doctor: What about sunshine?

Patient: You can have too much of a good thing.

Doctor: Well said. Would you like me to prescribe an antibiotic?

Patient: They don’t work because doctors prescribe too much of them.

Doctor: You have to feel you’re getting something for your money.

Patient: It isn’t all about feelings.

Doctor: It is.

Patient: I beg to differ.

Doctor: Doctors differ and patients die. What would you do if I told you you have six months to live?

Patient: I’d get a second opinion.

Doctor: You’re growing too fast for you height.

Patient: You stole that one. Call yourself a doctor!

Doctor: I am a doctor. See that certificate on the wall? Certified insane.

Patient: That’s not funny. I could be mad. Am I alright?

Doctor: Physically yes. Mentally I’m not sure.

Patient: Did Freud say its impossible to psychoanalyse an Irishman?

Doctor: That’s a myth but I can well believe it.

Patient: Can I dress now?

Doctor: Yes. I’ve had a good look.

Patient: There are seven orifices on the human body at the last count.

Doctor: Who’s the doctor around here? Did you go to medical school?

Patient: Don’t pull rank.

Doctor: You’ll feel better when you pay my fee.

Patient: I’m on a medical card.

Doctor: Then it doesn’t matter.

Patient: My symptoms disappear when I visit a doctor. Suddenly I’m well.

Doctor: It’s my bedside manner. I’m Irish too.

Patient: What!

Doctor: That doesn’t mean I’m no good, a quack, anymore than you are.

Patient: I never said I could cure anything.

Doctor: I guarantee nothing. Your satisfaction is my guarantee.

Patient: God knows I’ve heard some rubbish in my time. You should be a politician.

Doctor: I have medical ethics.

Patient: You’ve got it bad and that ain’t good. Is there no cure for my condition?

Doctor: You could emigrate or take a holiday.

Patient: In Ireland? What good would that do?

Doctor: A change is as good as a rest. The same only different.

Patient: You’ve done me a power of good.

Doctor: It’s all in the mind.

Patient: I don’t mind.

Doctor: Mind how you go now. Watch yourself crossing the road. I don’t want to be left picking up the pieces.

Patient: Would a rub of the relic do me any good?

Doctor: Whatever you think yourself.

Patient: Should I go to Las Vegas or Lourdes?

Doctor: I have patients waiting. I can’t sit here all day talking to the likes of you.

Patient: One for a man, two for a horse.

Doctor: Quack quack.

Patient: Will my story have a happy ending?

Doctor: This is it. Next please!

Patient: I’ll remember you in my will. I’m broke.

Doctor: That’s life. Get used to it. Come back if you get worse.

Patient: Kill or cure. What can’t be cured love must be endured love.

Doctor: If you attempt to sing I’ll call the police and have you ejected.

Patient: I can take a hint. (Leaves, closing door behind him).

Doctor: Thank God that’s over!

Omniscient all-seeing Author: And so say all of us.

Tich Ennis

7th June, 2017

 

 

Leftwing Capitalism

What is that?

Does it wear a top hat?

Can the consumer society coexist with socialism or is there something I missed?

Socialism, is it productive, is it seductive?

Economics like, does it mean a thing without a king?

Do we choose baubles, bangles and beads, do they answer all our needs?

Can we be poor but honest or is that too much to endure?

I’m not sure.

Tich Ennis

29th May, 2017

Marx

Marx was right. Philosophers try to understand the world, the thing is to change it, of course.

But not by force Karl, you backed the wrong horse.

The first thing you’ve got to change is yourself, someone said to me.

He was right, so I see.

Await developments, my expectant friends.

In the meantime, means are not justified by ends.

I myself waited a very long time.

Is waiting my crime?

I am a poet writing rhyme.

Wasting time.

Tich Ennis

27th May, 2017

Unknown One

I am the poet no one knows, I wear old clothes.

I love music and talk and fun, am I the only one?

Would it be good if others knew me, came up to me?

I don’t know, I do and I don’t, sometimes I think they will then I think they won’t.

Mostly I don’t think about it at all, I write my writing on the wall.

What for, who knows, I do my best.

I share with a friend or two and you, sharing is best.

I need a rest.

Do I pass the test?

Tich Ennis

14th May, 2017

Lotto

A lotta lotto tickets do not work, they’re broke.

Money up in smoke.

You have one in sixteen million chances of a win.

When does winning begin?

Even a hundred million would not be enough according to a man I met.

A misery boots, like a day that’s wet.

When the state lottery came in in Italy a man said it is a tax on stupidity.

What is cupidity?

I very rarely ever buy a ticket, perhaps never again.

I’ll do something when?

Tich Ennis

11th May, 2017