Surely it can’t be done. But it has been done. For the first time in the history of mankind someone has been dedicated enough and fool enough to write a filthy limerick for every town in the UK which unlike Leeds or Devizes doesn’t already have a classic filthy limerick to call its own. From Land’s End to John o’ Groats, The Great British Limerick Book has a filthy limerick for your town, for your uncle’s town, for your cousin’s husband’s ex-wife’s town …. as long as it’s in the UK and as long as it isn’t one of those few places that are really impossible to find a rhyme for. There are over 900 limericks in the book. A lot of them are hilarious. Most of them are very funny. All of them are filthy.
(The book contains adult humour and profanity.)
The Isle of Skye, Scotland.
When I was on the Isle of Skye,
I overdid the old Spanish fly,
I had a stiff member,
From the fourth of December,
Till Friday the tenth of July.
Guildford, Surrey.
At McDonalds in Guildford in Surrey,
I spilt coffee on my crotch in a scurry,
I had to act quick,
To cool down my dick,
So I stuck it into my McFlurry.
Bath, Somerset.
There was a professor from Bath,
Who employed twenty five research staff,
To measure size and direction,
Of his every erection,
And to plot the results on a graph.
Nuneaton, Warwickshire.
There was a young man from Nuneaton,
Who really enjoyed being beaten,
And squeezing his knackers,
With a pair of nut crackers,
And riding a bike with no seat on.
Hackney, Greater London.
As a chemist I worked once in Hackney,
And invented a treatment for acne,
But one ingredi-ent,
Was semen I’d spent,
And they thought that good reason to sack me.
Ashington, Northumberland.
In Ashington there was a miner,
Whose wife was a fashion designer,
One night to his shock,
She dressed him up as a cock,
And herself as a six foot vagina.
(The book contains adult humour and profanity.)
The Isle of Skye, Scotland.
When I was on the Isle of Skye,
I overdid the old Spanish fly,
I had a stiff member,
From the fourth of December,
Till Friday the tenth of July.
Guildford, Surrey.
At McDonalds in Guildford in Surrey,
I spilt coffee on my crotch in a scurry,
I had to act quick,
To cool down my dick,
So I stuck it into my McFlurry.
Bath, Somerset.
There was a professor from Bath,
Who employed twenty five research staff,
To measure size and direction,
Of his every erection,
And to plot the results on a graph.
Nuneaton, Warwickshire.
There was a young man from Nuneaton,
Who really enjoyed being beaten,
And squeezing his knackers,
With a pair of nut crackers,
And riding a bike with no seat on.
Hackney, Greater London.
As a chemist I worked once in Hackney,
And invented a treatment for acne,
But one ingredi-ent,
Was semen I’d spent,
And they thought that good reason to sack me.
Ashington, Northumberland.
In Ashington there was a miner,
Whose wife was a fashion designer,
One night to his shock,
She dressed him up as a cock,
And herself as a six foot vagina.
