BBC religious limerick competition – for “clean” entries only
Edward Stourton wants only very serious limericks
A Radio 4 competition asks for limericks on religion. But contrary to the tradition of the limerick, your blasphemy, criticism or lewdness are not required.
Edward Stourton on BBC Radio 4′s Sunday programme yesterday invited listeners to compose limericks on the subject of religion, to welcome in the New Year… for some reason. (You can listen again for the rest of the week, about 32 minutes in.)
“Now sometimes limericks can be coarse and offensive,” Stourton warned. But, “we’re asking for clean limericks in these responses”.
You can submit your own limericks on a religious theme to sunday@bbc.co.uk. Winning poems will be broadcast on the Sunday programme on Sunday 2nd January.
If you submit a limerick do copy it into the comments below! And remember, the BBC wants “clean” limericks. None of your blasphemous humanist values or secularist criticisms please; just good, clean, po-faced limericks…
BBC religious limerick competition – for “clean” entries only,
There are those who believe in a christening
That’ll knock on your door, with teeth glistening
But if you start to quote Dawkins
All you’ll hear is their squawkings
“Oh no! La la laa! I’m not listening!”
When you read into the Bible a bit
The Old Testament god’s a right sh*t
A bigot, jealous and spiteful
Quite mean, not delightful
And, it seems, a huge hypocrite.
One thing that just does my head in
Is not the Pope’s ban on gay weddings
But that he lies and he cheats
To save kiddy fiddling priests
And still hasn’t been arrested !!!!!
There’s bhudists and christians and jews
muslims, krishna, jedi, hindus
but they’ve got it all wrong
its superstition
there’s no god, and that is good news
There once was a deity called God
Who was thought of as a silly old sod
He brought life to the earth
For joy and for mirth
But most of us turned out quite odd
Sarah Palin is one to be feared
She believes stuff that’s really quite weird
Like our planet was endowed
By a man on a cloud
Who’s like Charlton Heston, with a beard
She comes from a State that is cold
And thinks the Earth’s ten thousand years old
But what’s more alarming
Yanks must find her charming
‘Cause 40 per cent of them are sold
A crap writer wanted money for free
So he came up with Scientology
Now celebrities flock
To worship this cock
How gullible can one person be?
I’m on a roll here.
There once was a virgin called Mary,
Who rode on a donkey so hairy,
On the first Christmas morn
a new King was born
and the old King called Herod got scary.
“What a time for my time to begin,”
said Mary. “No room in the inn!
Well, I told you to book…
But I guess we can look
at yon cattle-shed lowly as sin.”
There once was a man who was called JC,
Whose birth on our earth changed world history,
His love and desire for peace for all men,
Means the past is gone -
We can start again.
There was a young lady from Bude
Decided to swim in the nude
A man in a punt
grabbed her by the elbow
and said
“you can’t swim in here it’s private”
If religion could place more reliance
On the methods adopted by science
It would be more evolved
Have more mysteries solved
And offer more hope to its clients.
But its answers are all set in granite
It ignores all the facts that don’t fit it.
And the dark dusty nooks
Of its fossilized books
Are all it can offer the planet.
It won’t seek up to date revelation
It is patently failing the nation
Who have all turned away
Now they fervently pray
For the fame that they see as salvation.
Are the limericks published on the net? I heard the one abolt Hawkling and Dawkins and am anxious to see it in print as it was so clever.
There was once a person called god
Who ran everything a little slip shod
He said if you’re happy
To be treated like a lackey
I can get you into heaven with a nod
Very late, I know:
Have faith, said the preacher, and be released
From the unthinking life of a soulless beast.
Don’t rush me, said I, I need to reason things through:
No you don’t, he replied, such arrogance won’t do,
Your place is in my flock, I’m your pastor, said the priest.
There was a wee wumman fae Linckin
She had a blue tit and a pink yin
She married a jew,
His baws were all blue
And the tip of his cock was stinkin
Forgive me, father, for feeding the dribbling troll, but what larks, what fun!
And on topic.
A retired parish priest name of Scotty
When sober is harmlessly dotty,
Though when drunk he’s a punk
With the charm of a skunk
And a mouth like an unemptied potty.
Laying down in the gutters
To the streetlamp he utters
His toilet-wall verses,
Leaks at both ends, and curses
Those smug new atheist nutters.
You say that because I’m a sinner
I’ll go to hell, and won’t be a winner.
Oh WAKE UP you dunce,
It’s all about bunce
Religion’s nowt but a big money spinner.
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There was a young vicar from Ings,
Who spoke of God and such things,
but his secret desire
was a boy in the choir
with buttocks like jellies on springs…
I’ve been flogged for my absence of piety
While being forced to pray to a deity
I was only a child
But the teacher went wild
My refuge is now insobriety