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Your support makes all the difference.As soft September drizzle
Fell gently all around
Two soaking dogs regarded
Their Essex training ground.
As handlers from the police force
Marked papers and made notes
The rookie bloodhound sniffers
Shook drops from saggy coats.
A bloodhound asked his colleague,
"You bin long in the job?"
His doleful friend informed him,
"Transfer from Customs mob.
It didn't have the glamour
Of sniffin' for The Plod.
I heard they were recruiting
And wanted back on squad.
They ditched the old Alsatians
And we're a safer bet;
Since one fell down a staircase
The rest have joined the Met.'
But many miles from Essex
Just off the Breton coast
The King of Patagonia
Raised flags and drank a toast,
Declared a British islet
His latest pied-a-terre
And then informed the tabloids
Whose editors asked, "Where?"
But as the puzzled media
Scanned maps to find the rock
The news came in of Railtrack's
Proposed millennium clock,
The Forth rail bridge the venue,
One, one, two-K the date,
Approximately running
Er... sixteen minutes late.
Whatever the opinions
Of Patagonian kings
The island of Ibiza
Is where it really swings.
There's Ecstasy, Viagra,
Amphetamines, cocaine,
Booze and unprotected sex,
And that's just on the plane.
The poor Norwegian PM
Is suffering from depression
While everywhere but Worthing
Fears Russian-style recession.
The News at Ten is ending -
That's right after the break,
And finally... The bear cub.
Who won't. Be home. For cake.
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