Poetry

Sonar

Beneath the briny deep’s cold shroud, A sonar pulse sends out its sound— A whispered click that seeks the gloom, Returning echoes from the tomb Of sunken hull and silent shoal, Painting the ocean’s hidden

Cliftonville

Cliftonville’s quiet streets awaken With mist that clings to terraced rows, Where pastel doors and sash‑windows Whisper stories the tide now knows. The seafront promenade sighs softly, Gulls carving arcs above the pier, Their

Poser

The poser sits where light is low, A measured sip, a joke they know Will land just right—too keen, too slick, Their laughter hits a fraction thick. They name-drop bands no one's heard yet, Adjust

Forfar Athletic

At Glebe Park the hills descend, Where Forfar Athletic’s colours blend— A shirt of blue, a splash of white, They chase the ball from dawn till night. The supporters raise a steady

Grape

In the quiet vineyard's hush, a cluster clings, Purple jewels that sigh with summer's song, Each grape a tiny globe of sun‑kissed rings, Bursting sweet, a nectar that prolongs The taste of earth, a

• The Friday Fun British Test
• Dilbert Archives