Issue 8, Volume 17
There was a young man sick of lock down
Who had spent the last week in his night gown
When there came a nice day
The cops took him away
For enjoying a long walk through the town.
When he protested “My walk was essential”
The cops told him “Listen, mate, you must have gone mental”
He cried “Uncuff me you brute,
Or I’ll file a law suit”
And you’ll be glad to hear his policy covered dental.
For as they tossed him into the wagon
His lower mandible was, you might say, draggin’.
Because he did bequeath
To the ground his front teeth
He now drinks soup by the flagon.
So ensued an IBAC investigation
Which added to the whole conflagration.
The two cops were cleared
And at the young man they leered
When they found him in a gown at the station.
“Where do you think you are going?”, they demanded
When on the platform they caught him red handed
Boarding a train to Geelong
With a surfboard so long
That it would touch the roof it was up-standed.
Shane Fulorgee is the mysterious alter ego of a third-year JD student.