Rodney Barnett

Bath, UK

Born 9 December 1914; educated Mill Hill School. Married 1946 to Joan whose first husband was killed in action. Two daughters on grandaughter. Qualified as actuary 1945, set up consultancy 1955, formed partnership 1961, retired 1990. Wartime manuscripts lost when wounded, only few snatches remain. Have written odes in rhyming couplets on public figures; libel laws preclude publication of most. As "Henry Barnett" have composed songs, as yet unpublished. Awarded Royal Humane Society's Testimonial in 1956. Always interested in life, death, and humour. Like Voltaire, I believe that if there is no God it is imperative to invent one.

To our sweethearts, from Burma, 1945

Beside the lonely Irrawaddy,
Beyond the banks of Pakokku,
We're longing for you, soul and body,
And wond'ring, are you longing too?

My red setter, who died in 1944

Just for a dog, our hearts are bled;
Those glistening eyes, that noble head,
That coat of rich and golden red
No more are seen, for Don is dead.
Such splendour fails not, as his breath -
Long as his memory lingereth
His beauty liveth on through death.

Don't bob it !

This is the tale of Lorena Bobbitt
Who sliced her husband's little knobbet.
She said that he'd committed rape
But what she did was no mere jape;
For , while in peace he soundly slept,
Out through the bedroon door she crept.
And with her blazing fury itchin'
She fetched a rapier from the kitchen.
Suppressing hard a gurgling cough
She swung the knife to bob it off,
Thus executing with precision
A novel form of circumcision.
She crept away, and washed the cutter,
Then threw the the organ in the gutter;
The hand -care girl from Ecuador\
Had left him feeling very sore,
Was there ever a crime more heinous
Than severing her husband's penis?
Was there ever a wife so callous
Who'd amputate her husband's phallus?
The surgeons stitched it back in shape,
The courts acquitted him of rape,
And in an atmosphere of calm
She went on trail for grievous harm,
Receiving for her absolution
Forty-five days in an institution.
So, ladies if you're feeling vexed
And think your husbands oversexed
Just pause before the knife is swung,
Reserve the cutting for your tongue.
Reflect, before you slice it loose-
A bobtailed husband's not much use.
And fellows, though she seems the purest
Avoid a Latin Manicurist
Or one day you may wake up sick
To find she's manicured you dick!