Tag Archives: poetry

Roses Are Red…

It was Valentine’s Day last night (at both quizzes).

Valentine’s is always a weird night. There are couples who never go out with each other and have no idea what to do. They are awkward.

Some of the groups of single people are awkward. Awkwardness hangs in the air like Lynx Africa.

This was more true at the Newsroom, being a city centre venue. The Argyle was quieter as the romantic pairs were probably all in Salvatore’s instead. We’ll never know. It was certainly more relaxed and that’s why I went for the ROSES ARE RED contest there.
Simple instructions: write a four line poem where the first line is “Roses are red”.

Here are the results.


Roses are red

Dr Paul is wise.

He sets on fire,

My womanly thighs.


Roses are red

Violets are too

I’m Colourblind

And fucking hate poetry.


Roses are red

Violets are blue

I have a knife

Get in the van


Roses are red

Love is dead

Maddy McCann’s skin

Covers my shed.


Roses are red,

May is absurd.

They want to leave the EU,

But you can’t polish a turd.


Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Poetry is dead,

And so are U2.


Roses are red

Violets are blue

Dr Paul’s hot

Like a scotch bonnet jus.


Roses are red

My baws are blue.

My gooch is broken,

My sex life is too.



There you go. These works were all written in the space of a few minutes. See how easy it goes? You too can be a great artsit.

For cheats and hints to win Dr Paul quizzes in Edinburgh, get the weekly email.

Poem: Edinburgh Buses

Here’s my new poem. To be honest, it needs some work.


For Easter Road fun
Catch the 1

If you’re posher than me
Ride the 23

If you need to be at the airport late
The 35 is perfectly great

For noisy junkies the 14 is best
That’s why they call it the Methadone Express

Buses out West are nowt to do with me
The 4, the 12 and the 33

I think those numbers go to the “Gyle”
Whatever that is beyond the Western Miles

And nae cunt knows
Where the 13 goes

Image result for edinburgh bus

For cheats and hints to win Dr Paul quizzes in Edinburgh, get the weekly email.

Poetry Found

This was discovr’d left over on the back of someone’s picture round at the Leith Monkey last week…

It reads thus:

If I could, I'd cut off your finger,

To remember the past.

Whenever I am thinking of you,

I'd stick it up my arse.

I'm telling you this just to say,

I hope you have a lovely Valentine's Day...


Genius. And it look’s like Ally’s handwriting. But I can’t be sure.

For cheats and hints to win Dr Paul quizzes in Edinburgh, get the weekly email.