BlackBetty made her way onto the streets with a poster announcing an upcoming competition. Looking around she found the perfect spot to post it for all to see. Her trusty bodyguard, Potato, was on hand with a bucket of paste and a brush, so she pointed at the wall she wanted the poster on and he set about sticking it up. First it went on upside down but after scolding the silly spud it was eventually put right.

Calling all bards and cunning linguists!

Do you fancy yourself a bit of a poet? Are you bursting at the seams with creativity? Can you turn your hand to any sort of rhyme or verse? If so, this is the competition for you!

As you may know Godfather Tetley of Old City District has been teabagging his way around these shores for a year today and we want to celebrate this monumental achievement by hearing some poetry in relation to this leg end of a man!

There are no restrictions on the type of poetry you produce although it must be Tetley related!

So please,  let us see your glorious talents put on display here to be judged later by a dedicated group of fake professors who will choose the best 3 poems! We will then dish out some monetary prizes for the winners!

The competition will run until 23 May 00:00.

Curtis staggers up to the mic, clearly the worse for wear. Giving a glassy look to the gathering, he smirked and charged on with naturally theatrical elegance.

"Dear old friend,

Now we're nearly round the bend,

Drunk, thrashed and closing on the end,

Take these kind thoughts with you as you go,

Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks, bollocks, shit,

Drink more and remember less of it,

Regret nothing and toast to your success!

Dear old friend,

This poem is terrible but you are the shit,

The end. "

Taking another large swig of his glass, he raised the rest in a toast and spilled the most of it laughing. Making his way back from the mic he grabbed another bottle and refilled his glass.

Stepping up to the mic and pulling out his scribble

As I lay here in this empty grave,

And the willow over me weeps.

Tis then dear friend and not before,

That I will think of you no more.

While it may seem somber Tetley, I have known you for awhile and this is my way of saying many more years to come old friend.

Stumbles out and drinks some more spiked milk.

Murphy arrives in style to read the short poem the managed to scribble onto a napkin from Brielle's muffin shop. Clearing her throat she begins to speak. 

"I'm still not sure what teabagging means

I'm sure it's something awful

The goings on in this fair town

are surely far from lawful

But you have made a name for yourself

your legacy is one for the books

I'm going to stop this silly poem 

because I'm getting weird looks."

With a nod she steps down and tucks the napkin up her sleeve. "Godfather I wish you all the best!"

Shortly after hearing BlackBetty's announcement, Chronic found himself sitting in a nearby coffee shop deep in thought. Poetry was something of a guilty pleasure for Chronic - a secret one, at that. After some consideration, he found himself scribbling into his pocket notepad. To an alien eye, the small page looked a horrific mess, but to Chronic - it was a simple blueprint.

After much scribbling, he'd finally produced a finished article. He sunk the last of his coffee and hurried out of the coffee shop like an excited child on Christmas morning. His poetry was something that was not often shared, but this occasion had made him eager to share this concoction of words.

As the crowds stood gathered, Chronic made his way to the front. Raising up on to the box, the chattering fell to silence. Chronic cleared his throat and began to speak rhythmically,

Tetley Teabagger, the big 3-6-5,
That certainly is a long time alive,
Clearly the work of a very strong brew,
The obvious backbone, of the Tetley crew,
But is it the tea, or the dipping action,
That brings you your satisfaction?

Of course, your name has another reference,
Something considered a sexual preference,
Defined clearly as "a sack in the mouth",
Standard foreplay, down in the south,
Also a prank or a practical joke,
Not so funny to the serious folk.

So raise your glasses for this occasion,
To Tetley's one-year celebration,
Congratulations on your huge success,
And for the future, I wish you the best,
Now let's get wasted, first round's on me,
And wake up tomorrow, to a nice cuppa tea.

Chronic finished his poem with a smiling look toward Tetley and a nod of the head before making his way back in amongst the crowd to hear some more of the poetry being shared today.

TLWolf was walking in the streets to get some fresh air, when he saw that poster on the wall, he is used to that, there is all the time posters of different things, lost kids, lost dogs or cats, competitions, advertisements and many more. He normally don't bother checking out, but this poster looked different so he decided to check it out.

As he is close enough to the wall, he started reading the poster, it was a Poetry Competition to celebrate Tetley's one year completion. 

Wooow, He said it a bit loud in a voice that can be heard by anyone close to him. This was definitely an achievement. He looks forward to the festivities. It is going to be hell of activities.

He continued on his way, trying to figure out if he can write some Poem, Maybe he can win any prize.