I won’t revisit the sorry stats of the week so ably narrated by Matt Wayne, so here’s an autumn poem to lift your spirits…

‘Twas gloomy and Predictors woes
Did slide and simbre in their ale
All tipsy from their highs and lows,
Much bemoaned with outrage.

“Beware the Jokerwock my son!
The smile that’s white, the olive thatch
Beware the Penguin bird, and shun
The luminous Riddler’s chat!”

He took his vorpal mouse in hand:
Long time the wond’rous web he surfed –
So rested him by the latte stream
And sipped a while in thought.

While at the sorry stats he looked
The Jokerwock with beetroot stains,
Came whiffling through the reference books
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! The tables drew
The vorpal mouse when click and clack!
He sent the mail to all and said
“You won’t corrupt my stats!”

“And has thou tamed the Jokerwock?
Take off your cloak, crusading man,
O cupshious day! The Blues – hooray!”
They chortled as they sang.

‘Twas gloomy and Predictors woes
Did slide and simbre in their ale
All tipsy from their highs and lows,
Much bemoaned with outrage.

... after Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (1832 – 1898)