January/February 2025 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-up

A club-going plenipotentiary
Is not what you might call adventure-y.
He is quiet, composed,
And is not predisposed
To the yak of the 21st century.

Congratulations to Jeff Foster of San Francisco, California, who won $25 for this limerick based on Transistor Radio in the University Club, James Williamson’s Post cover from September 29, 1962.

If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our upcoming issue, submit your limerick via our online entry form.

Here are some of our other favorite limericks from this contest, in no particular order:

’Tis a lounge of the noble befit.
There’s no laughter, no words, and no wit.
Lord forbid if some noise
Should startle the boys
And their contest of who can out-sit.

—Gennadiy Gurariy, Athens, Ohio

 

The boy’s manners of course were remiss,
And detracted from otherwise bliss.
But he hadn’t a care
As the club’s richest heir
Since it’s his derriere they must kiss.

—Tommy Cardigan, Saint James, Missouri

 

Am I hearing a raucous refrain?
These young folks can be such a pain.
With speech interdicted,
Our response is restricted
To expressions of tacit disdain.

—Jim Johnston, Poland, Ohio

 

The music the young man was playing
Annoyed the club gents who were graying.
They begged the young mister,
“Turn down that transistor!”
A plea he could not hear them saying.

—Justin O’Connor, Leeds, Massachusetts

 

I’m afraid I cannot interfere,
Though the breaking of rules is severe.
For you see, I’m aware,
That the boy in the chair,
Is the son of the richest man here.
—Jeanne Kaufman, Boulder, Colorado

 

With all due respect (seems you lack it),
Please dispense with this pestilent racket.
In the interest of silence
Turn off your appliance.
While you’re at it, I suggest lose the jacket.

—Skip Russell, Venice, Florida

 

I don’t know why they said it was wrong.
I was playing a popular song.
And they should remember
That I’m a new member,
Although I may not be for long.

—Ronald Vavak, Los Alamitos-Seal, California

 

“That young man slouching there, all alone,
Seems to talk to himself in a drone.
Tell me, Jeeves, is he mad?”
“Oh, sir, no. It’s a fad.
He is using what they call ‘a phone.’”

—Rudy Landesman, New York City, New York

 

You can groove to your radio’s sound
On your bed, on a bench, on the ground,
But I say what’s the point
If you’re not in a joint
Where you’ll turn a few eyeballs around?

—Mark L. Levinson, Herzliya, Israel