CLERIHEWS Sylvia Plath left an aftermath: to follow in her shoes proved too much for Ted Hughes Martin Amis dad's also famis but the magnum son outshoots the old gun Annie Wright

	Robert Frost got seriously lost when he discovered that the road he had forsaken was the one he should have taken Barbara Cartland inhabited the heartland of that genre of historical romantic fiction peopled by brooding dickhead heroes and virginal heroines with perfect diction FULCRUM When was the point the balance tipped? Carless youth flipped To saloon middle-age? Was it the day we changed From full cream milk to semi skimmed? BEST LAID She took the Pill He used a sheath And just to be sure in triplicate the icing on the cake she smeared on spermicidal jelly Rodents behind her skirting multiplied, avoiding all entrapment She, likewise, continued to fall pregnant Her friend used nothing, never darkening the door of family planning Threw precaution to the winds Gave it her best Got laid in various locations multidimensional positions with many mouse-like men and lion-tamer types       to no avail PIANO It will have to go Ideologically unsound ivory OUT TO DRY She cannot face the morning unless she's done a line. A habit she's no desire to kick. Weather is immaterial. Clothes in a jumbled mess, she checks the paraphernalia. Follows the daily ritual. Procrastinates. Anticipates. She's ready to go. Measures out the fine white powder, sniffs, clicks, sets cycle with spin. Breakfasts, showers, styles her hair. Enough time left, and enough rope for a single hanging, She pegs out. Marilyn Longstaff

	RAIN DANCE Driving rain arrived last night in a Scirocco from the East, cats and dogs in raincoats alighted in the street the Rainbow Club awaited, they queued up at the door but none could gain entrance, the bouncer held up a paw and brandishing an umbrella, kept them all at bay; "Let you in you shower? No chance, no how, no way". They'd been saving up, they must get in, tonight'd be a storm, "It's Rain-Dance Night!" they cried, but the doorman didn't warm. Collars up, hats pulled down, they re-grouped at the kerb "We're over a barrel, he's watertight, but let's not be deterred!" Heads together, they formed a huddle, their plan to precipitate whilst a jester in a sou'wester was let in through the gate. "It's not fair!" they said, looking up, as the rain kept falling down "we need a plan, one that will wash, for our night out on the town". It wasn't funny, they had the money, a nest egg for a rainy day but they'd had enough, and in violent mood, started an affray One grabbed his legs, another his head, blows rained down in a flood, they all saw red, wanted him dead, but ran when they drew blood. They were running scared, and scarpered fast, down the nearest drain, that night they took a rain-check, but next Saturday they'd try again. Lindsay Balderson

	How can I be chased and chaste? Listen. Tinsel is silent Having a pulse is a definite plus You peppered me with insults ! I felt assaulted. How could you be so cruet? Why did the music jar? It was a jam session A few pints. A punt. Lots of panting Vicki Thomas

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