We've an adventurer in our village,
As intrepid as any you'll know,
Like Amundsen, Scott, and Shackleton,
There's nowhere that this man won't go.

We've an adventurer in our village,
Who's faced anti-cyclones and gales,
He's experienced hardships and dangers,
You'd be scared half to death by his tails.

He's cycled the coast of Great Britain,
On a tandem, at the back was his wife,
But that's just a part of the story,
Of this daring adventurer's life.

He's scaled the hights of Ben Nevis,
And trekked 'long the West Highland Way,
He slept 'neath the star's during night time,
Then walked scores of miles in the day.

Another of his expeditions,
A nautical quest done afloat,
Navigating the Thames with two comrades,
Re-enacting Three Men in a Boat.

We've an adventurer in our village,
With a terrible weakness one knows,
To watch Charlie Dimmock on Ground Force,
Then on his adventure's he goes.

The Phantom Scribbler Strikes Again. 1999.

We have a new policeman,
His name is PC Wood,
Combating all things evil,
Defending all things good.

He carries his equipment,
Around his portly tum,
Baton, CS gas and cuffs,
Drags trousers down his bum.

He has a new posh office,
It cost more than the Dome,
But twice a month's the only time,
That you will find him home.

He also has two helpers,
That sometimes you may see,
One to make the coffee,
The other makes the tea.

So if you hear police sirens,
It's not a prison break,
Just 14 local squad cars stopped,
For coffee, tea and cake.

If he thinks he'll arrest me,
For poking all this fun,
He'll need a top detective,
As the Phantom's writ, and run.

The Phantom Scribbler Strikes Again. 2000

He dashes through the village
On his way to Dale Field
Exceeding the speed limit
As the police camera revealed.

With absolute precision
He negotiates a curb
Then weaves around the potholes
In the pavement so I've heard.

Accelerating to a speed
Approaching that of light
With heat shield tiles upon his knees
That glow intensely white.

He's such a speedy character
You won't see him for dust
With town and country tyres on
He generates max thrust.

The power he produces
Is too awesome to believe
He's there before he's started
And back home before he leaves.

To whom am I referring
In this poem now complete
It's Michael, and he drives
The fastest wheelchair down the street.

The Phantom Scribbler. 1999

You get ointments there for sunburn or those nasty insect stings,
Antiseptics, germ free plasters and those funny rubber things,
Unfamiliar pills and potions that the Doctor's do prescribe,
Like Cimetidine & Losec that will calm your tum inside.

They sell nappies & sunglasses tubes of "Preparation H",
To alleviate the symptoms where your undergarments chaff,
They sell brushes for your teeth and dental floss for round your gums,
Also baby bath and wet wipes for those tender little bums.

There's the lovely young Fiona, who will get your medication,
With her good looks and her charms she will increase your respiration,
There's polite attractive Helen always smiling while she serves,
With her "Super Model" figure statuesque and shapely curves.

You can purchase your cosmetics moisturiser for dry faces,
Dainty cotton buds on sticks for those important little places,
Get advice and information for a cough or winter chill,
If you call into the Pharmacy and ask to speak to Phil.

The Phantom Scribbler Strikes Again. 2000