Friends Limericks

Two for one today – here’s an extra post requested by facebook friends during a discussion on Friends.  If you watched that series even half as obsessively as I did, you should recognise most of the events here.

Friends Limericks

It starts with a Rembrandt or two

who say that they’ll be there for you

a fountain, some jiving

a bride who is skiving

cos everyone says she’s a shoe.


Ross is a dinosaur dude

and Joey loves women and food

they hang out in a bar

Phoebe plays the guitar

ugly neighbour reclines in the nude.

In series three Joey gets dumber

Drake Ramoray’s killed off – what a bummer!

the museum hires him

then Monica fires him

they go to Montauk for the summer

You can knock Joey down with a feather

when Rachel and Ross get together

but let’s not get cocky

it looks a bit rocky

we should keep an eye on the weather


that coffee-shop girl’s on the make

and Ross makes an awful mistake

when they do more than kiss

– but answer me this:

say, were they, or not, on a break?


Phoebe has embryos planted

her song-partner takes her for granted

now Phoebe is bitter

she’s sold for cat-litter

her smelly-cat jingle is chanted.


Ross and Emily’s two weeks of fun

turn into romance on the run

he suggests they get married

the motion is carried

but aren’t they just jumping the gun?


The wedding plans all go awry

Phoebe’s too pregnant to fly

like Thomas a Beckett

comes Rachel to wreck it

Ross says, ‘I take thee Rachel,’ – oh my!

Meanwhile in a bedroom close by

Chandler and Monica tie

some knots of their own

– just look how they’ve grown!

the end of an era is nigh.


Events take their pre-scripted course,

Ross and his chippie divorce

the triplets appear

they drink lots of beer

and Chandler makes cranberry sauce



We’ll take a large latte to go

as Phoebe weds Mike in the snow

Joey has a good grouse

as the Bing’s buy a house

Rachel’s job is in Paris, and so –

It ends with a Rembrandt or two

who sing that they’ll be there for you

as they bring home the twins

and Joey’s head spins,

and although it’s insane

Rachel gets off the plane

and that’s how it ends

– no more fountain, no jiving

no Central Perk skiving

no picture-frame peephole

no half-insane people

yes, that’s how it ends:

is there life without Friends?

Let’s see what’s on BBC 2.

c. Liz Gray, 2011

A Singer Must Die

I’m listening to fragments of Cohen’s life as set down in the Book of the Week on radio 4, ‘A Broken Hallelujah.’

As I’ve read biographies of Cohen before it doesn’t tell me too much that I didn’t know already, but what it does is to once again immerse me in the life and thoughts of the man.  And what’s interesting about Leonard is that his is a life lived openly, almost publicly.  I don’t mean that like a celebrity his every action is scrutinised by paparazzi – he’s never had that sort of attention and in the early days he was almost obscure: in fact I think there’s some comment about him being the most famous person nobody’s ever heard of.  That sounds typically Jewish as well as being typically Cohen.

No, what I mean is that he was always open about his experience.  His songs tell the story of his life and his innermost feelings and, as Suzanne Vega says, he tells us, ‘look what you’ve done!  I’m in bits!’ in contrast to the American way of putting a smile on your face and ‘comin’ out swinging’.  The most moving example of this was when his lover, who was also his manager, absconded with his pension fund.  This was such a complete betrayal and must have been so devastating that no-one would have blamed him for excoriating her in the most virulent terms.  But he did not.  Whatever he must have been feeling privately, publicly all he said was this:

‘We understand that these things happen.’

That is why Cohen is my guru.  Not that I think he’s some kind of saint, or that he knows everything; I’m only too well aware that he has feet of clay.  But he shows the way; he shines some kind of light on things, for me; and he’s an example I want to emulate.  I was so moved by that incident that I wrote a song about it.  It’s called The Ballad of Kelly Lynch (that was the woman’s name) and it goes like this:

The Ballad of Kelly Lynch

Your beauty bears the tarnish

reputation’s peeling varnish

the blackness of your action

forms the fans into a faction

Kelly Lynch, Kelly Lynch.

You have stolen your lover’s pension

I think that deserves a mention

you were trusted and you took it

I’m not going to overlook it

Kelly Lynch, Kelly Lynch

How you told him that you loved him

and your protestations moved him

he believed your words and gestures

now the wound inside him festers

Kelly Lynch, Kelly Lynch.

You’re an icon of our aeon

that’s a line we all agree on

but you couldn’t make it last

you’re already in the past

Kelly Lynch, Kelly Lynch.

Leonard shrugged, said these things happen.

We’re familiar with the pattern

I understand you couldn’t stay

and I’ll try to let you pay

but this just hasn’t been our day

this just hasn’t been our day

this just hasn’t been our day

Kelly Lynch, Kelly Lynch, Kelly Lynch.

c. Liz Gray, 2013

Kirk out