My brain has gone on strike. I cannot get it into the right gear to write anything even remotely resembling thoughts. See it can’t even write proper English!

So instead I decided I’d share with you a really very stupid, silly, not to say crap, piece of dogrel verse I penned a couple of years ago, when work was especially horrid.

Sisyphus Rolls His Jelly
 
The mountains of treacle
Grow up to the skies;
The mouldings of jelly
Grow big in pigsties;
But my toothpicks, my toothpicks
Stay tiny and slight,
No wonder my job
It is stressful and shite.

See I told you it was a pile of old tripe.

Now I’d better let my brain have a a lie down.