They held auditions by the back field fencing.
I’d never done this kind of thing before.
But something had to change.  I was pig-ugly –
And running out of pig-luck, I was sure.

I grasped the chance for this with both my trotters.
Had been rehearsing day and night.  My piece?
A bit from something I had read by Orwell
About farm animals who want release.

I couldn’t take it in when they said, ‘Porky!
You’re in the Tesco advert, mate.  Well done!’
And wandering round the field with cameras on me ….
My new career as Piggy Depp begun!
              
But now they’ve pulled the ad.  I’m piggin' shaken.
I’ll end up, not as TV star, but bacon.

© Fran Hill

Tesco sausage advert banned for misleading consumers
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Fran lives in the West Midlands (UK). She teaches English in a local secondary school, writes, performs, blogs, tweets and tries to resist chocolate.

I left them on the doorstep for a good while.
That’d show them what it was like to live slow.
Then I let them in.  Didn’t offer them tea.

‘Haven’t played tag since primary school’
didn’t go down well with the burly one.
Worth a try.  Miserable gits, both.

I stuck my leg up on the coffee table.
Had borrowed a pair of Dad’s old flares.
Looked a right knob.  But needs must.

‘Must’ve been a nasty injury, that,’
said the thin one, tapping the bandage.
I winced a bit.  Always liked Drama.

He unzipped a rucksack, full of tags
for lads not going out tonight.
Lads with both legs.  Ha ha ha.

‘Tag's not too tight, is it?’ said Fat Bloke.
I nearly lost it then, I’m telling you.
‘Can’t feel a thing.’  It was the truth.

‘That’ll keep you out of trouble,’ they said.
I watched them walk down the road.
That’d be Kane, then.  At number 33.

I left the leg in a corner, home alone,
And practised with my crutches in the alley.
Been a while.  Lump in the throat.

No one at the pub had a better story.
Still came home without a girl
but, hey.  As days go, fair enough.

© Fran Hill

G4S sacks pair who tagged offender's false leg
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Fran lives in the West Midlands (UK). She teaches English in a local secondary school, writes, performs, blogs, tweets and tries to resist chocolate.

I was at my Mac

finishing off the front cover.

I thought it was one of my best.

The boss leaned over my shoulder.

'The Prince. Take him out.'



I said, 'Isn't that treason?

Remember the Tower of London.'

But he was reapplying his nicotine patch

And didn't hear me.

He's not one for jokes these days.



'Lose him,' he said,

sitting on the edge of my desk

so I could smell his stress.

'I don't know what she saw in him anyway.

Bald as a newborn's arse or what?'



I said, 'I can't erase the future monarch

from his wedding photo.

It would kill my mother.

She's bought plates and everything

and watches the DVD every Sunday.'



He was checking his watch.

'11.30,' he said. 'Time for my lunch.

Just do her a new arm

where he used to be.

And tidy up the waistline a bit.'



At the door he turned.

'Ah, second thoughts?' I said.

'Thinking of your knighthood?'



'You cock up that lace,' he said,

'and you can start ringing Mr Sainsbury.'



© Fran Hill



Grazia admits digitally slimming Kate Middleton photo

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Fran lives in the West Midlands (UK). She teaches English in a local secondary school, writes, performs, blogs, tweets and tries to resist chocolate.

She turns to her children
who lie silent-curled beside her,
their bodies bloated with
someone else’s shame.

‘My little ones,’ she says,
her lips as dry as crusts.
‘The clever people have
found water on Mars.’

© Fran Hill

Mars: Nasa images show signs of flowing water
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Fran lives in the West Midlands (UK). She teaches English in a local secondary school, writes, performs, blogs, tweets and tries to resist chocolate.

The first one they called Brooklyn.
That’s where they were on vacation when he was conceived, see?
Great idea for others to emulate
As long as they’re not having sex in Upper Langton Matravers or Piddle-on-the-Hill.

The second one they called Romeo
That’s culture, innit, and makes you look well good?
What’s more, it guarantees him a great future
And a series of angry fathers who don’t want him to marry their daughters. Oops.

The third one they called Cruz.
Okay, it’s Spanish, but they’re not Really Madrid people.
And it’s a girl’s name anyway. (Slap in the face for the third boy, eh?)
And only about seventy million trillion others have the same name.

Now they’ve dubbed/daubed their little girl Harper Seven
As you do, as you do, when you’ve lost your book of Baby Names for the Normal.
And little Harper S, with Brooklyn, Romeo and Cruz,
Will call their dolls and teddies Jane and Martin and Julie and Bill
And start a club in the shed called 'How to Get Revenge on Your Parents'.

© Fran Hill

Beckhams name first daughter Harper Seven
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Fran lives in the West Midlands (UK). She teaches English in a local secondary school, writes, performs, blogs, tweets and tries to resist chocolate.

Ring a ring o’ roses
To Serbia Amy goeses
The drink is an issue
She all fall down

Now everybody knowses
That drink can spoil the showbiz
Oh Amy, we mish you
You all fall down

Can’t balance in her shoesies.
What’s doing it? The booze is.
Your band members kish you.
You still fall down.

You’re staggering in your boob tube.
We all saw it on Youtube.
We mish what you used to do
Before you fell down.

What everybody knows is
We saved up for your showsies
You’re pissed, you, you’re pissed, you
Our cash falls down.

We hope that Amy goeses
To rehab. All we knows is
We mish what she was before
She all fall down

© Fran Hill

Amy Winehouse cancels two dates of European tour
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Fran lives in the West Midlands (UK). She teaches English in a local secondary school, writes, performs, blogs, tweets and tries to resist chocolate.

Editors' note: Don't forget, we're looking for YOUR modern nursery rhymes for our Saturday Challenge!

Samoa gets to jump a day
I want to jump one, too
I want to jump next Monday
And avoid the Monday blues

I want to jump next Tuesday
When my mum-in-law is staying
I want to jump next Wednesday
When my gas bill’s due for paying

I want to jump next Thursday
So I don’t teach my Year 10s
I want to jump next Friday
Straight into the next weekend

If I can have a two for one
I’ll take a Mon and Tues
And jump straight into Wednesday
Come on, how can you refuse?

If there’s a buy two get one free
I’ll take the Wed to Fri
And jump from Tues straight into Sat
And kiss the week goodbye

I don’t mind jumping further
Say, to Friday night from Mon
And have my life in weekends
Leaping straight from fun to fun

Samoa gets to jump a day
I want to have a go
I think I’d say ‘Samoa of that!’ ...

But I bet the answer's no.

© Fran Hill

Samoa to jump forward in time by one day
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Fran lives in the West Midlands (UK). She teaches English in a local secondary school, writes, performs, blogs, tweets and tries to resist chocolate. www.ilurveenglish.blogspot.com

I watched the food mixer like a hawk today.

It was exchanging slyness with the toaster, I swear

And … was that a wink, flashed at the rice cooker?



I lingered in the kitchen for hours, keeping an eye,

Pretending to sort tins, vaguely dusting shelves

With a homely red checked teatowel - the only safe thing in there.



I daredn’t make tea. That would mean turning the kettle on

And giving it a voice, turning on its red eye.

I swigged lemonade from a bottle with little fizz, but no danger.



At five minutes to midnight, my shoulders breathed again

And I risked the microwave to heat up milk.

When it beeped, my mouth went like dust. I turned slowly



But it was just saying, ‘Your milk is ready.’ Friendly, like. Benign,

I think.

© Fran Hill

The date 21 April 2011 has been prophesied in the Terminator series as Judgement Day

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Fran lives in the West Midlands (UK). She teaches English in a local secondary school, writes, performs, blogs, tweets and tries to resist chocolate. www.ilurveenglish.blogspot.com

You know that old yogurt pot – back of the fridge -
The one that’s been there since last year?
Well, now you can eat it, whatever its state,
'Cos they're doing away with the best before date
So you can scoop up the mould straight off the plate
Without even a smidgeon of fear.

You know that old bit of Brie – next to the Cheddar?
Yes, that bit that’s leaked – that’s the one.
Well, get out the crackers and spread it all over
And eat it with out-of-date butter or Clover.
There’s nothing to fear as you will discover
Now that the eat-by date has gone.

You know those old sausages – on the top shelf –
The ones that have gone green? Yes, there.
Well, let’s fry them up with a nice bit of bacon
We won’t worry much at the stink it is makin’
Or fear that tomorrow our bowels will be achin’
Now the best-before date isn’t there.

© Fran Hill

Clearer food labelling plan 'to bring an end to waste'

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Fran lives in the West Midlands (UK). She teaches English in a local secondary school, writes, performs, blogs, tweets and tries to resist chocolate. www.ilurveenglish.blogspot.com