Interlude with Alfred

It’s Alfred – I apologise,
The poor guy’s right up to his eyes.
Two weeks since he last updated
By all his fans he’ll be berated.
Translating handouts into French
While thinking of his absent wench…

Hmm … there might be trouble about that (sorry M. – don’t tell Alphonsine!). Let’s start again.

Ruairí’s blog’s still unupdated,
By his fan(s) he’ll be berated,
Funny stories long-awaited,
Rwandan poems he’s translated.
Reading entries annotated
(By myself, it should be stated)
And read by fans with breath most bated.

When the blog was first created
Ruairí would be quite elated;
Oft his office he vacated
While his entries he dictated.
How the taxi-bus he hated,
Rwandan verbs he conjugated,
How the rain was unabated,
And other matters unrelated.

But then his loyal fans, they waited
A little fragment, oft undated,
And usually quite belated
Left their appetites unsated
And expectations most deflated.
Maybe his skill was overrated?

But soon it will be reinstated;
So, if your interest’s unabated
Your pupils soon will be dilated
As the flow is recreated;
Current news will be debated,
The laws of poetry desecrated,
The wonders of the country fêted,
And Portsmouth will be relegated.

And if by then you feel sedated
Thinking blogs are overrated,
All these anecdotes collated
And none of them interrelated,
If Alfred on your nerves has grated
As Ruairí’s taste he once more slated,
Well, here’s my answer – silver-plated:

TOUGH! NOBODY ASKED YOU TO READ THIS ANYWAY!!!