Park Engineering

 John Park, 32 the Loaning, Motherwell, North Lanarkshire, Strathclyde, Scotland, U.K. ML1 3HE

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British Hospitals - True Stories.........

work of the Bonkle Poet William McCormack "Memories O' Hame" and other poems

the poet among other things Bill Baron Irvine


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Stand Up Comedy, can it be taught.htm


Wilsontown The first ironworks in Lanarkshire.htm


Knicker Jokes.htm

Soul Legend Percy Sledge dies aged 73.htm

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Stand by Me star Ben E King, dies at 76.htm

Ruth Rendell, Final Page for a great Author.htm

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Zoe Lyons, ElieTaylor, Sara Pasco, Janey Godley, Susan Calman, Sara Millican, Sandi Toksvig.htm

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Val Doonican.htm

Rosa Parks. I Have a Dream by Martin Luther King.htm

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The funniest man who ever lived..htm


Patsy Cline







Richard Gadd




Weekly Rants 3

Iron Horse Pub

Jason Byrne

Alan Carr

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Bobby Vee hits Take Good Care Of My Baby and Rubber Doll

Joe Brown recalls when he was bigger than Beatles



peter,manual,the,beast,of,birkenshaw,fails,to avoid,the,




Nancy Riach The Lass who won all


What did they do before doing stand up

Hardie vehemently opposed the first world war

bernie keith








the poet (among other things) Bill Baron Irvine


Bill Irvine was born in the Village of Cambuslang. He was brought up in a room and kitchen in an old tenement building with an outside toilet. The family was very poor and when he reached his seventeenth birthday, he joined the Seaforth Highlanders as a regular soldier. Bill left the army after seven years and joined the Glasgow Police Force from which he has now retired with twenty five years service. He had started a small business in the latter years of his police service and now working at it full time he has become a successful businessman. He says he has many irons in the fire of commerce and, touch wood, he has not had his fingers burnt, yet.   While in the police force a friend nick named him "the wee baron", after a well known photographer at the time. He has adopted the name Bill "Baron" Irvine, which he uses for his writings of funny short stories based on his police experiences.  Bill writes his poetry for fun during the quiet hours and would like to pass on his sense of humour to all.


    The Outside Loo

In memory of the days when the family had a toilet outside which was pitch black and freezing cold. Most of the time when used, we could not afford even a small candle to light the way. Newspapers were cut to a size and hung on a string. The children were scared of the blackness and the noise the cistern made.


I looked down into it's depth,

Those roaring swirling waters,

From all sides the torrent roars,

White horses and their daughters.


It disappears below the ground,

To caverns undiscovered,

And reappears some miles away,

In pools and lakes and rivers.


It doesn't seem so long ago,

I had to dress up,  for the cold,

And in the dark without a light,

I had to be fearless, and be bold.


My dad, he had prepared the way,

He thought of everything,

He'd cut the newspapers all one size,

And hung them up on a string.


Dad painted it, white every year,

And mum, always scrubbed it clean,

She said, "There look at that,

It's fit for the Queen".


It had a throne, where one could sit,

And dream of greater things,

The well-off folk, they had a chain,

But ours, you pulled a string.


On a cold, dark, winter's night,

You found it by the smell,

And as a kid, I flushed the thing,

Got out and rang like hell.



The Sex Change Kid    


When I was born, my mum and dad,

They led a normal life,

He sowed wild oats, like other men,

Then took himself a wife.


As I grew up I'd notice things,

At his pals, he was always waving,

Then he threw away his blades,

There was no further need for shaving.


When I went to school, the teacher asked,

Have you a sister or older brothers,

I said "Miss I'm not sure,

But, I think I've got two mothers"


He still went to his local pub,

Where, he admired, the girls' new dresses,

I think I'll let my hair grow long,

I'd have lovely golden tresses.


In the local he used to shout,

"Jim, gees another drink,

Now he simpers, "Jimsy dear,

Another gin, and make it pink"


He's on a diet, he's losing weight,

On salads, and water cress,

I wonder why he wants to slim,

But he's bought himself a dress.


I once had a dad, that was good to me,

At golf and fishing, was a chum,

I don't know, what's come over him,

Has he now, become my mum.  


He went in for an operation,

To my mum, the doctor had a word,

Then, she went to another part,

For he was in the woman's ward.


I went to see him with my uncle,

The one that's my father's brother,

He came blustering out,

For God's sake lad, your father is now your mother.


Now the law, lays down, who relations are,

Is my mother now a widow,

Although my father isn't dead,

Am I know an orphan kiddo,


the law will have to change, you know,

For a new relationship I'll bid, 

Although I'm not an orphan boy,

I'll be called the sex change kid.



My Father  

I recall, my father,

When I, was just a lad,

He wasn't very good to me,

Although he wasn't all that bad.


I recall, my father,

In the steelwork as a smelter,

He got good wages, my mom got none,

If she argued, he would belt her.


I recall, my father,

Nearly every Saturday night,

He'd bring home, ice cream and chips,

But only, if he was tight.


I recall, my father,

When he hit my mother,

I wish, I'd been a stronger boy,

 Or, had a bigger brother.


I recall, my father,

With his wages, he wasn't fair,

He always had money, for his drink,

Then staggered up the stair.


I recall, my father,

His nose was cut, wasn't it a sin,

Secretly I laughed, into myself,

He had been stuck one on the chin.


I recall, my father,

He ruled us with a iron rod,

But outside the house, amongst other men,

He was just a little sod.


I recall, my father,

Smacking, me about the head,

My brother John, began to cry,

Saying, I'd kicked him while in bed,


I recall, my father,

Making me, take my brother all the time,

I used to go out, and run away,

From the sneaky, little swine.


I recall, my father,

Joining the army, I thought I'd try it,

The only advice, he ever gave me,

You've made your bed, you'll have to lie in it.


   I recall, my father,

As he, was getting old,

You forgive him, all the things they did,

For parents, are like gold,


As we are old and wiser,

And round us children gather,

He wasn't really, a bad old stick,

When I recall, my father.



"L" for Valour

If you want, to live a right long time,

My job, is not for you,

For you've got to have my nerves of steel,

I confess, these things, are true.


I'm not a handsome, airline pilot,

And will never, reach the sky,

I don't walk as tall, as a steeple-jack,

But my blood pressure, gets quite high.


I have, never been a soldier,

Though, I've seen many battles.

And when I walk, pains go up my neck,

To a brain that rattles.


You'll see the bags below my eyes,

And I'm nervous when I speak.

Friends, who knew me, years a go,

Think, I'm some kind of freak.


I go home at night and cry,

Just, to release some tension.

Will I ever, see my twilight days,

Or draw my old age pension.


Won't give a "sign" o' Lord,

Keep me straight, and in the right gear,

And guide the hand that steers the way,

To take away the fear.


You know I'm one of earth's, most bravest men,

Though I'm not a deep sea diver,

Just a bloody fool, with a driving school,

And sit beside a learner driver.




A Fishy Tale or The Tale of a fish


The shape of the fish, for swimming,

Is perfect, without a doubt.

But on a plate, there's no nicer shape,

Than a freshly caught brown trout.


In the sea there is the dolphin,

The nearest fish to man,

But nearer still, is the thick cod steak,

In a buttered frying pan.


The pike, he is a cannibal fish,

And eats the little fishes,

He doesn't look nice, but by the slice,

Is one of our fancy dishes.


 There's hake and dace and turbot,

A little known group,

But, like the Chinese, who have their shark,

They make a fine soup.


We catch the shoals of herring,

They have tiny fins, not flippers,

We flatten them out, and brown them with smoke,

Then we call them kippers.


Scotch salmon has a special plaice,

In our feeding bowl,

But, if you're not well off, you can eat like a toff,

With a slice of lemon sole.


The mackerel is a oily fish,

Isn't that a sin,

The best plaice for him is in tomato sauce,

You can buy him in a tin.


Now over in France they eat the horse,

But for that, you need a paddock,

Folk o'er here, should, feel quite safe

For it's chips with the breaded haddock.



The Ladies

I wrote this in honour of all the women who have to put up with an awful lot from men.  


God put them on this sad old earth,

She had the name of madam,

His one idea, of so long ago,

Was for her to comfort Adam.


But alas it didn't work out that way,

With form and figure, she'd tease,

With a plain gold band, she got the upper hand,

And he was on his knees.


As time went by, they got very sly,

Devising methods, to get their way,

This little mouse, would rule the house,

Then man, may have a say.


They come all shapes and sizes,

And dress in in fine array,

But not one of them, will give an inch,

Until they've won the day.


They fought for generations,

For equal rights with men,

They did not need to use the sword,

They used slashing tongue and pen.


They diet to keep their figure,

They dye it, to colour their hair,

Tell them they're, with no extra rights,

And they'll it isn't fair.


You get them short, you get them thin,

You get them round and tall,

God bless, the ladies of this land,

I love them, one and all.



The Mysterious Weighbridge