The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 4/11 – My Corona!


The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 4/11 – 4/17/2020 AKA 11/4 – 17/4/2020

So, this weeks challenge is to take a song and turn it into a parody of the Corona Virus.

Well here is my tasteless and rather obvious version of The Knack’s My Sharona.

It wrote itself really.


My Corona
My Corona
Ooh, my little deadly one, a deadly one
OK, at the moment I feel…. Fine, Corona
Ooh, you make my fever run, my fever run
Sweats running off me is that a…… Sign, Corona?

If I don’t ever stop, going out, I’m going out of my mind
I’ll get infected from the touch of the unwashed kind
My, my, my, ay, ay, woah!
M-m-m-my Corona

Don’t Come any closer, huh, ah, don’t ya, huh
Not Close enough to look in my eyes, Corona
Keeping six feet away from me,

or you will see, that everyone dies, Corona
If I don’t ever stop, going out, I’m going out of my mind
I’ll get infected from the touch of the unwashed kind
My, my, my, ay, ay, woah!
M-m-m-my Corona
M-m-m-my Corona
Na, na, na, na, na-na
My Corona
When you gonna get to me, get to me
It is just a matter of….. Time, Corona.


Please keep home, keep safe and look after yourselves, don’t let the parody’s become your reality.


Sunday Song Share – Sound of Music Covid-19 Version

I thought I would share this brilliant YouTube video, a rewriting of the Sound of Music with a really good message. I share because I Care.

Happy Sunday

We can vanquish this thing if remember to sing, keep happy and stay indoor.

Tell the Story Challenge – A Clandestine Puzzlement.

Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith has tagged me in the following Tell the Story Challenge:

Here is the Picture:


By the clandestine light of a single candle, Elizabeth Darwell opened her journal to write about the events of the day. Sir Percy, an admirable catch, had asked her father for her hand. Her heart fluttered as she considered her future as his wife. He was a man of great status and wealth and she a squire’s daughter, far beneath him, but he had been captured, so he’d said, by her demure beauty and innocence.

Just then, she heard a noise and looked up in puzzlement.

Her beloved was sneaking stealthily into her room. A look of undisguised lust marred his face as He held a half drunk bottle of brandy in his right hand and wiped his mouth with his left.

It seemed he now yearned to destroy the very innocence that had endeared him to her.

It was clear, he wanted a downpayment on their marriage contract and this was something she could not countenance. She had heard of many a noble gentleman who, after taking such liberties had decided that the lady did not meet with their expectations and called off the marriage altogether. When the lady was so much lower in status, it was her reputation that was irreparably besmirched not his.

Desperate not to end up in that fate, she jumped up and ramed the candle into his face and kicked him hard between the legs, where rumour had it a mans greatest weakness lay.

He screamed in agony and collapsed to the floor writhing in pain.

Carefully she went through his pockets and removed any objects of value. A gold watch, a fine leather wallet filled with silver and gold coins and an ornate snuff box.

She would need all those valuables now she had forsaken one fate for another. That of a highwaywoman.

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 06/February/2019


I hoped you liked the story, I based it on the fact that the picture reminded me of a Jane Austen novel, so I tried to imitate that style, with, of course, a twist.

So Now, I shall choose a picture and if anyone reading this would like to take up the challenge a write a story about it, please be my guest. 🙂



 To clarify, I nominate YOU, if you’d like to. 

Have fun.


Manic Monday’s 3 Way Prompt – The Singer.

This Story was written in response to Laura M Bailey’s Manic Monday’s 3-way challenge.

See Link:

You may also wish to read my previous entry for the 3-way challenge:


The Word: Sultry.

The Singer

He sat at the back of the club like he always did. Despite the crowds and the smoke, he still had a good view of the stage. He’d reserved the table in advance and this was his fourth visit. He’d wanted to make sure. He waited patiently for the Singer to walk on stage. The audience erupted into applause before she’d even opened her mouth. She was clearly making a name for herself.

Leaning back into the shadows he watched her performance with rapt attention.

She moved in a sultry fashion across the floor, hips swaying in her floor-length red sequined gown. She reached forward to grasp the microphone with her hands encased in gloves that reached her elbows. Her long red hair covered her left eye in a parody of that actress of yesteryear, Veronica Lake, herself parodied by the cartoon character Jessica Rabbit.

She had changed her name and her hair colour, but Claudia Van Horn was definitely the woman he had been searching for. He got a thrill listening to her familiar voice as it sang a skilful rendition of that old classic ‘Stormy Weather’. She had lost none of her technique.

He had found her again, after searching for so many years. He knew that no court order would keep him from finding her. No police protection programme could have kept her from pursuing her calling on the stage. His intentions, though benign at first, had been twisted by her rejection of him into something purely comminatory.

He took out his wallet and dropped a few notes on the table, he was feeling generous, then he slipped out of the nightclub, remaining in the shadows.

His handsome even features distorted in a smile that did not improve his appearance but gave it a bestial cast.

He couldn’t wait to see the surprised look on her face.

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 12/November/2018


FOWC with Fandango — Parody