The Count of London Resto

Famished & tired, we find a place to eat

"Table for two & a half, please"

"Two," says she with a tease

Another day, another restaurant

"Table for two," say we

He winks, "three, Oi," 

Sunshine smile pasted on our faces, we waltz into another eatery

"Three," I cry confidently

"Oh ma'am, 'tis two & a half you mean,"

Hunger pangs see us queued up again

Looking at us askance, along came he

Arms akimbo, I say

"Now, you tell me"

An Elegy for E-Forwards

Imagine my surprise when I find my Mailbox a.k.a MB, all tidy and grinning with pride,

‘That refuse found another refuge named FB, said to be bandwidth-wise wide,

It unspooled deep dark secrets, hence was often called a public confession box,

Now it spawns Email Forwards via Communities in a new avatar, isn’t that a funny hoax,’

‘You spoke too soon, MB,” crackled a celestial voice,

Mails flowed swishing and whooshing, poor MB crashed and lost his poise,

‘Blimey,’ shuddered he, ‘Who goes there? Tell you, these E-Forwards are such a sham…’

‘Wakey, wakey, ’tis not the old faithful, but your new friend, the Spam.’

You know you’re in London when…

You’d rather have bad hair days than have a haircut that leaves you feeling fleeced

Exposed arms & legs always cause a flutter (is it May yet?)

You don’t save (also shave), for everyday is a rainy day & you hardly see the light of day

It’d be fun to do all things under the sun if & only if you see the Sunny side up

No honking but all types of sirens to guarantee you a sound sleep

You feel you can win a marathon as you’re forever walking (did somebody call out ‘auto’)

The very sign of fish & chips makes you convulse

Most of the times you are found shaking in your boots (forgot the woollies, again!!!)

You haven’t done any wrong but prefer going Underground 

Call me a tourist-with-extended-stay
Now am all done-done