The Duvethog

Artwork by the generous and talented @baboonicorn

Artwork by the generous and talented @baboonicorn

Beware the furtive duvethog* that hunts in bed at night
It holds the duvet loosely when you first turn out the light
Then it goes into a death roll like a river crocodile
You start out under covers, but that’s only for a while
Before you know what’s happened you are in the open air
Tucked up into ‘not a lot’ where duvet once was there
You try to find a corner but it’s vanished without trace
It’s just as hard as getting the duvet into the duvet case
You think you might just snuggle up into the duvet worm
The heat within’s not coming out, no, not one single therm
Your body temp is slipping : ninety eight, now ninety seven
(The heartless swine beside you’s never getting into heaven)
You think you might just freeze to death – you’re starting now to panic
Your brain invents a brand new law of bed thermodynamics
If heat’s conserved, it surely is inside the duvethog
“But why ?” you ask. Because the arse has stolen all the togs.

* In my mind this kind of rhymes with ‘rubber dog’.
This verse was inspired by the #FairytaleFriday writing challenge on Twitter.


A crocodile is poikilothermic, that’s how crocodiles are:
without an external source of heat a crocodile won’t get far.

Your temperature is ninety eight point four in Fahrenheit
But for a crocodilian, no one number is right

They’re colder when it’s colder out, they’re hotter when it’s hot
But test it with a thermometer ? My advice is – better not.


I received a challenge on Twitter yesterday via a friend, @hamstall.
It said :

@mynameisedd: The first rapper to make a rhyme with “carbaminohaemoglobin” will get my eternal respect.”

I couldn’t resist, so here’s my response.

CO2 gets bonded tight
Locked in your erythrocytes
Harbour me no fear or loathing

My Tricycle Has Shrunk

Once more the delightful Olivia points out the mysterious workings of the universe.
Olivia: “Hey! Last time I was on this trike it was bigger! How has it got a bit smaller?”
I am unconvinced her Dad knows this much actual science … but that’s why they invented poetic licence.

The last time I rode this tricycle it was bigger than this I think
Did some master of miniaturisation come along and make it shrink ?
I’ve checked for other changes, I’ve checked its symmetry
I’ve checked both handlegrips and I’ve checked wheels one, two and three

I’ve gone and checked the manual they provide when they deliver
But still I haven’t figured out why my tricycle was bigger
I thought it through I’ve pondered, cogitated, I have thunk
But yet I cannot tell you why my tricycle has shrunk

Perhaps my Mummy’s lying making up some fabrication
Cos she loves me and she’s trying to placate my indignation
But I haven’t heard her offer me one single cause at all
That would tell me why my favourite trike is suddenly so small

At this rate I’ll be riding with my knees up by my ears
It won’t be long before my trike just ups and disappears
I’m worried this affliction though might spread to other stuff
But apart from maybe brothers’ heads – one shrunken thing’s enough

My Daddy says “It could be worse, so stop your mad invective
The expansion of the universe puts it all into perspective”
I can’t tell Dad that’s twaddle I don’t want to be in trouble
But he says that it’s all explained by Mister Edwin Hubble

The universe is growing every minute, every day
And everything that’s in it moves a bit further away
And objects in the distance seem much smaller than they were
That’s why it looks as if my trike has turned out miniature

Then Dad went on to tell me what occurs as it gets older
As the universe expands it keeps on growing ever colder
And in the end each molecule is frozen like an icicle
I wonder though – he never said – what happens to my tricycle ?