Wayne writes love poetry to his wife

Apparently Mr Rooney likes to write love poems to Mrs Rooney.

This could have been the first.

Oh dear Coleen, I love you so

Especially in your nightie

When the moonlight flits

Across your tits

Oh Jesus Christ Almighty

(with thanks to Pete n Dud)

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Roses are red

Violets are Blue

I shagged a prossie

Can I give you one too.

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I’ll lick your ring and lick your fanny

If you Coleen forget the granny.

Shall I compare thee to a five-nil win?

Thou art more lovely than a loss or nil-nil draw.

Rough winds do shake the hair I’ve had sewn in,

And summer’s lease cannot beat Final Score.

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

And if it doth, and thou turn’st old and grey.

No less shall I be drawn to thee, fair maid,

But you knew that about me anyway.


Get yer tits out

Get yer tits out

Get yer tits out for the lads

Hi rio do u

want picking up in the morn-

-ing pal

He’s not quite got that haiku structure down yet. Still, tricky things, those syllables.


My sweet honey pie, it is you I adore,

From your Laboutin heels to the nape of your neck.

Though I’m partial to varicose veins on a whore

And rutting with grannies that fancy some Shrek.

But that’s all behind us, you gave me your hand,

And I asked for forgiveness from our Lord above

And now that per week I earn three hundred grand

I reckon you’ll put up with anything love.


I think Fowllyd wins this poetry contest.

Laureate in waiting methinks perchance forsooth.

Ode to a lady of mature years

How dare ye all consider me so fickle

That I just use grannies for slap and tickle

Its the cold wrinkled skin, surely the best bits

Not just the hairy nips on the saggy old..