The Ballad of Reggie's Bonce

Reggie had a very large head
and balanced it very nicely.
It wasn't an easy thing to do,
because precisely when least 
expected, something new would
distract him, his focus would be
deflected, and wobbling would
ensue.

As Reggie grew larger, so did
his head, casting shadows over
his bread and butter, until utter
mayhem was created when he
spread his Marmite on the family  
cat which leapt into the fire, and 
that was that.

His enormous head continued to
grow, blocking the light so that 
as he came near, people gasped at
so large a bonce and at once took 
flight in fear of being clasped
in the dreadful gloom, by those
afraid of instant subsume.

Then Reggie's head became so wide 
that weather formed on either side.
A cloud appeared beneath his nose
and lightning struck, terrifying those
who'd checked the forecast before 
they'd left, but were now very moist 
and utterly bereft.

It wasn't long before Reggie's dome
had forced the moon to move its home.
The stars, deprived of useful space
took shelter round his celestial face,
and Venus, Venus, poor old thing,
now far from home, had relocated
beneath his chin.

The Met Office, now greatly vexed,
declared his head a danger zone,
and annexed space around his face
as a place where planes should not
be flown, unless of course, Reggie
agreed to suppress the breeze by 
holding his breath to avoid a sneeze.

And then one day astronomers gathered,
and blathered for hours about Reggie's
head growing so large it was now a moon,
soon to exceed the gravitational pull of 
Jupiter's satellite Ganymede and lull
unsuspecting stars into possible collisions
with Callisto or Mars.

Then Reggie's bonce began to shrink,
and little by little, they began to think that 
once he'd deflated he'd no longer be a
moon, but newly downrated to a weather
balloon or even a buffoon fired from a
canon at the Circus Belgique, performing 
all week near Saskatoon.

By the end of the month, Reggie's head 
had returned to the norm, affording the
weather men and forlorn astronomers
such delight, that they expressed their relief 
on The Sky at Night, as Patrick Moore, with
evident glee, told us the planets were now
back to where they should be.

Poor old Reggie had now floated to earth
and returned to his digs in Wigan, where
his mates threw a party, a real big un, too, 
with food and flags and endless supplies of
special brew, designed to make Reggie elated,
but as the party progressed, Reggie, now 
decompressed, went home feeling utterly deflated.

Audio: https://1drv.ms/u/c/4db44a4d6b88c854/IQAd2XVr3u4OQqEh-NoAJSRRAWfFEWcAXE1...