Adventures of George


Green George
You may have heard some awful tales
Of how the pregnant mums of Wales
Preferred their spuds to be bright green,
Not white, not black, nor tangerine!
 
But green potatoes have a skin
That carries something nasty in.
It poisons babes, so their backbone
Is poorly formed, not fully grown.
 
So no-one wanted spuds like that,
Except our George. He was a prat,
Whose body somehow liked that stuff.
He really couldn’t get enough.
 
He grew and grew and grew and grew,
And as he grew, got greener too!
The largest man in Wales, by bulk,
So that’s why locals called him “Hulk”.
 
And when he went to buy more food,
The shop staff, they were very rude.
They screamed at him, Get out, get out!”
He’d say, “I need some food, don’t shout.”
 
But they were scared and ran away,
So at the till he couldn’t pay,
Which meant that all his food was free.
Not good for him, you must agree!
 
Then finally, he got so fat,
That one day in his chair, he sat
And couldn’t rise, he was so gross,
He fell asleep, quite comatose.
 
The ambulance’s siren wailed.
They tried to lift him, but they failed.
The men tried hard, with might and main,
But had to get a special crane.
 
The doctor said, “You’re quite a case.
I’ve never seen so green a face.
Your tum’s so fat, your legs so bent.
Your shirt looks like a circus tent.
 
The experts know just what to do
With men whose skin has all turned blue,
But no one knows the cure for green,
The weirdest case we’ve ever seen.
 
I think we’ll have to play a trick.
We’re pretty sure that it will stick.
It works for those who love green figs
And little boys who eat earwigs.
 
We’ll send you somewhere where you’ll freeze,
And then your weight will start to ease.
First blue with cold, then white with fear,
You’ll be alright within a year.”
 
And so they put him on a ship,
Amidships, so it wouldn’t tip!
A month they steamed, south all the way,
Arriving in an icy bay.
 
The scientists there all laughed to see
Such a green monstrosity.
But they were kind – he felt at home, 
Though soon he felt the urge to roam.

One night when they were all asleep,
He left his bed without a peep,
Put on his coat, and on tiptoe
Crept out into the freezing snow.

With all his fat, he felt quite warm.
He walked and walked, but then a storm
Blew up and whited out the view,
Leaving him in quite a stew.

Now he was lost, began to cry.
His escape had gone awry.
And then he fell down a crevasse.
“Oh dear” he said, “I’m such an ass!”

Three months went by and no-one came.
He only had himself to blame.
But then he started losing weight.
He could have had much worse a fate.

And then his green began to fade.
Once really bright, it turned to jade,
Then red to yellow, pink to white.
By now he was a normal sight.

At last the rescue team appeared.
By then he had a massive beard.
So hairy, white and really slim,
Oh boy, he smelt, and that was grim.

But was he cured? The truth – not quite!
In most respects he seemed alright.
The spuds were off the list, it’s true,
But he was after something new.

He wanted burgers wrapped in buns,
Not medium, but enormous  ones.
With yellow mustard, Worcester sauce,
Injected with almighty force.

Well, then his weight began to rise,
And soon he reached his previous size.
His skin changed too, to brown and yellow.
All striped he was, a bee-like fellow.

So once again he scared the town,
Which left him feeling very down.
They cured him at a later date.
To find out how, you’ll have to wait.

Burger Prince
I wonder if you remember George, the star of our last verse.
From eating green potatoes, he got on to something worse.
His life was ruled by burgers, at morning, noon and night.
His waistline had expanded and his clothes were very tight.

Whichever size of clothes he bought, they soon became too small.
His shape was odd, quite like a ball, as wide as he was tall.
And since his height was very great, he really did look weird.
With arms so fat he couldn’t shave, he had to grow a beard.

With so much flesh on George’s bones, no doors would let him through,
Except the double doors of stores, so guess what he would do.
He’d spend all day inside the shops and frighten every mum.
All night he’d sit inside a tent, his bum would go quite numb.

He was so scared to lie and sleep, for then he’d have to rise,
And with such weight he’d need a crane. He knew it wasn’t wise.
So instead he’d sit and eat, ten burgers, each with chips,
While all around the neighbours heard the smacking of his lips.

Of course, his weight increased still more, and then he couldn’t budge.
The doctor came and said, “Oh George, have you been eating fudge?”
“No, no, dear doc, I thought you knew, the burgers got me fat.”
The doctor said, “Not fat, my lad. You’re really gross. That’s that!”

“We’ve looked it up and found a cure for fatties just like you,
A cure that’s not been tried before, discovered in a zoo.
It may be scary but, you know, we have to try it out.
And if the treatment does its work, you’ll end up much less stout.”

Now Georgie knew he’d have to try, for if he grew much more,
His legs would break and arms would snap. It would be such a bore.
He told the doc, “I don’t care what, I must give it a shot,
Let’s do it soon. It’s winter now. I hate being fat and hot.”

And so next day, outside his house, arrived a giant crane,
And with it came a massive truck and lots of fine champagne.
The doc told George, “You need to drink, to overcome your fear.”
“Of what?” asked George. “Just wait and see. The reason will be clear.”

The George was brought a special chair, and with a sigh he sat.
He wondered whether he’d been wise, or was he just a prat?
The chair was harnessed to the crane, which lifted George up high,
Across the hedge and to the truck. It spooked a passer-by.

The truck began to crawl along, and George’s fat just wobbled
In ways no-one had seen before, because the street was cobbled.
It took them nearly half a day to get George to the zoo.
He fell asleep, thanks to the booze, and so made no to-do.

The truck drove in. The driver parked right by the lions’ cage.
George screamed, “Please keep me safe from them.” Doc said, “Just act your age.
The cure’s for you, not them, you know. The idea’s really easy.
You’ll be near a pile of meat, but feeling rather queasy.”

“When you’re beside them in the cage, we’ll feed them loads of meat.
They’ll tear and chomp and make a mess. Their eating isn’t neat.
At first you’ll want a bit yourself, but their disgusting manners
Will put you off all meat for life. They’ll send you quite bananas.

And if the lions still want some more and nibble at your toes,
Just scream for help and we’ll be there, to spray them with a hose.
“OK,” said George, “I’ll have a go. I think that I’m quite ready.”
So in he waddled, head held high, but feeling quite unsteady.

He sat down right beside the lions, while they chomped up their meal.
Blood everywhere, disgusting sounds. George thought, “This isn’t real!”
And as they ate revoltingly, he started to feel sick.
“I’ll never eat red meat again. I’d puke so very quick.””

And so it was. Our George was cured. At first he wouldn’t eat.
For months he kept his mouth tight shut. It really was a feat.
And now he’s back to normal size and weighs just what he should,
Eats what the doctor ordered: good meat, three veg and pud.
George drives on
Now cured of his bad habits, our George had time to think.
His hours and days and weeks were free, not spent on food and drink.
All day and night he studied hard. It wasn't long before
He got As in his A levels, not two, not three but four.

He went to university, for he was very bright.
He learnt just how the world works, and what was wrong and right.
He studied more than everyone, and stayed clear of the booze.
He came out top, beat all the boffs, and now he had to choose.

His specialised in geography, which made him very keen,
To go to places round the world that he had never seen.
I'm cleverest in all my year, I really am a star.
It won't be hard to find a job where I can travel far.

Although I've seen the icy place that cured me first time round,
I want to see my own country, its places so renowned,
Except for round about my town, I've never seen our land.
Its towns and cities, hills and dales, its seaside
 rocks and sand.

He learnt to drive, and took the test, of course he didn't fail.
Even though throughout the test the wind blew such a gale.
And then he had a bright idea, when driving home one night.
A truck cab's great to see the view, you look down from a height.

He wondered how to check it out, and then he had a thought.
I'll follow trucks all over, from factory to port,
From warehouse and depot, to every kind of store.
To see what life their drivers lead, is it fun or just a bore?

So that's just what he did, and each day he rose at dawn.
It didn't take him long to see that it was one big yawn.
From traffic jam to motorway, and then another jam,
Loading and unloading, the same ad nauseam.

And then he thought about the trains. To see he took a few,
But all he saw was houses' backs, there rarely was a view.
The high speed trains he gave a miss because they went too fast.
For even if there was a view, in seconds it has passed.

On TV one night was a film, its fiftieth re-run, 
It was the "Magical Mystery Tour", with lots of songs and fun.
A famous group, The Beatles, took people for a ride,
A happy journey on a coach. "That's just the job!" he cried.

And so he found a coaching firm, who helped him pass the test.
They trained him, too, to be a guide, and do the job with zest.
He started first on local jobs, not too far from his home,
And when he'd shown that he was good, he was allowed to roam.

Each trip he made the coach was full of granddads and of grans
Who just like him desired to see all corners of the land.
They'd worked hard all their lives, you see, and now deserved a break.
They smiled and laughed and tipped him well, and loved their tea and cake!

His first long trip was Scotland, a long, long way to go.
The spring was late, the air was cold and all around was snow.
But in the hotel restaurant the haggis was a treat,
And pipers played a lilting tune, while oldies tapped their feet.

The next day was quite sunny, so they took a nature tour,
And saw the Scottish wildlife, as they drove by hill and moor.
Enormous stags and long-eared hares, an eagle up so high,
And as they picnicked by a loch, an osprey flew nearby.

And then a trip down to the sea, a cloudy, windy day.
The grey waves smashed against the rocks, threw up a salty spray.
George saw some seals and told the tour, look, over on the right.
The grans and granddads were so pleased to see this special sight.

The next day they were driving along a hilly road
Too late George saw a slimy patch. A truck had shed its load
Of cans of oil and grease and paint and lots of slippery stuff.
George skidded and the coach spun round. It really was quite rough.

At first George was not worried, he thought he'd drive away.
But then he realised, something's wrong, the coach started to sway.
The coach's front hung over a really frightening drop,
And kept on tipping further down. George knew it wouldn't stop.

Quick, quick, he shouted, all in front, go back and do it fast.
We need your weight there quickly, or this trip will be your last.
But most were old and slow and some were frightened stiff.
So he led them one by one, to save them from the cliff.

The coach tipped back and all were safe, the rear wheels on the ground.
Then George had one more thing to do, to make them safe and sound.
He crept back to the driver's seat. His bravery was great.
Not long ago, they'd all have died, through his enormous weight.

If I'd been fat, this coach, he thought, would make a pretty hearse.
But now I'll put her into gear, and make sure it's reverse.
The middle of the coach made grinding noises on the road,
But the engine was just strong enough to take the extra load.

A big cheer went up, they all gave thanks, their eyes were full of joy.
Their hero George had saved their lives. They said, "You special boy!"
That night they bought him lots of drinks and Georgie got quite merry.
The grannies kissed his cheeks all night, he blushed red like a cherry.

The long drive home was done at night, the coach was warm and cozy.
They sang some songs, from yesteryear, but everyone was dozy.
George filled himself with coffee, so he stayed wide awake.
He brought the grans and granddads home, they'd had a lovely break.

Each journey was quite different, but there always seemed to be
A granddad who slept even when there was a lot to see,
A granny who was always asking when they'd reach a loo,
A young mum with a baby and a nappy full of poo!

And a young lad whose fidgeting drove everybody mad.

But then he found the secret of making them all glad.
He got them working in a team, it really worked so well.
And anyone a little shy was drawn out of their shell.

One to chat to granny and keep her mind off wee,

One to show the sleepy granddad what there was to see,
One to hold the talcum powder, to help the nappy change,
And one to stop the fidgeting with stories that were strange.


And so it went with many trips. George travelled far and wide.
He saw castles where in ancient wars so many knights had died.
He saw the pretty Cumbrian lakes, the glowering Pennine moors
And Norfolk's never-ending skies, its long and sandy shores.

The grans and granddads loved him, for he really did his best.
He took them to the north and south, and then to east and west.
He sang his songs, led sing-alongs, all from behind the wheel.
But with umpteen trips to every place, he began to lose his zeal.

Now, George was tall and he was handsome, with blue eyes and dark hair.
The grannies often asked him, "George, what are you doing here?"
Now all his fat had fallen off, George would be a good catch,
So smartly dressed, for any girl he would make quite a match.

And so he thought, I'm young and fit, there must be more to life.
I need to see the wider world, before I find a wife.
I'll learn to be a tour guide, I'm sure it's right for me.
And that's the next part of this tale, as you will shortly see.
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