Poems, Songs and Verse
Part One: Selections from The Rememberer; Songs and Poems 1993 - 2018
Part Two: The Dislodger; Songs & Poems 2018 - 2022
Part Three: Self-Obsessment; Songs 2022
Part One:
Selections from The Rememberer; Songs & Poems 1993 - 2018
Martinique
We All
Belong to the Rock
The Crappest
Christmas
Contrition
One More
Rainbow
I wrote these four songs at Christmas time in 1996, during four eventful and often harrowing months on the island of
Martinique, where I was studying French as part of my University course. Much of my time was spent alone with my thoughts and
I wrote many songs from a very heavy heart; I felt homesick for the very first time whilst knowing that the home I had
left behind was not there to go back to (I had outstayed my welcome; another reason to feel rejection and self-loathing).
The photo was taken in the tourist-friendly south of the island on one of the few days when it didn't rain, (or so it seemed).
My accommodation, for the most part was a room in a slum area of the capital; Fort de France, so my picture is a deceptively colourful
and vibrant image of a decidedly grey time. It shows what is called (in English and French), the Diamond Rock.
My trusty tourist guide informed me that the Diamond Rock (though uninhabitable) had been claimed by the British Navy during the
Napoleonic Wars and that they declared it a static vessel of the British Fleet and continue to do so; saluting it in passing, apparently.
This snippet of information was a source of great amusement to tourists and locals alike.
Amid the misery and isolation, I did, however, make two good friends in Pierre and his girlfriend, Rhamouna who were originally from
Strasbourg. Indeed their companionship was the saving grace of an otherwise bloody awful experience. They acquired a car and
we were able to explore Martinique more extensively but we were all quite poor by and large. At Christmas, Pierre announced that
his parents were coming over to visit for a few days. Pierre's Dad was a lawyer and not short of a bob or two so this was sure to make
things more comfortable, or was it? Pierre's Dad, alas, held the kind of anti-British ideas that some Brits have about the French;
I found myself having to defend my Nation verbally on occasions, against some quite outdated Ideas about stereotypes.
I didn't harbour any deep-seated anti-French sentiment to throw back in retaliation (I would have professed to being Francophile) and
I was never so proud of my Nation to the point of jingoism so I adopted the position that they could carry their prejudices with them
throughout the remainder of their lives, but in their determination that I should enjoy a French Christmas, Pierre's folks procured a
smattering of traditional offerings they had bought at a supermarket, that, frankly, amounted to an assortment of snacks a landlord
might put on the bar of his pub. During the course of this 'meal' it dawned on me that the entrees before me constituted the most
substantial part of the anticipated repas; there was no one in the kitchen ready to serve up steaming turkey, roast potatoes or even
a suite of some kind. I was hungry and would have to remain that way until I could get to a shop. This may seem a trivial tale but this
moment stands out in my memory as a low-point to which I would never again allow myself to sink. The pain was not from the hunger;
it came from the memory of where I had been a year ago; the people around me at that time; the spirit; the atmosphere; the laughter and
the booze. In 'The Crappest Christmas' I contrast those two consecutive years and although it might make the reader smile in places, its
back-story betrays the deepest hurt I ever knew.
When I first met Pierre's parents, I had shared with them, out of polite conversation, what I had read in the tour guide about the British
Navy's claim on the Diamond Rock. Later on, (perhaps on that irksome Christmas day) his Mum asked me whether I thought that the
Diamond Rock was British or French. She was totally genuine; she actually wanted to know. My response was perhaps diplomatic or
pragmatic, though nonetheless totally honest; in the great scheme of things it is the people that belong to the soil they walk on though
we may pretend otherwise. The rock will still be there when humanity is no longer around to dispute its ownership.
That night and the next day I brainstormed the issue and distilled my thoughts into 'We All Belong to the Rock'.
Poor old Pierre! I'm publically lambasting his parents after he was so kind to me. Well, they did at least inspire the song and you were
like a rock in those difficult months so I dedicate the song to you.
The Martinique experience was one to be endured rather than enjoyed. I was there to be educated but learned more than
I was ready to know. I witnessed poverty, violence against women, racism and drug crime. I was openly racially abused (just
once) and physically attacked (unsuccessfully) just once but there was a menacing atmosphere in Fort de France which
I perceived to be the legacy of the slave trade. This impression was forged from the architecture, the images of ancestors
on buildings and sometimes even the names of the streets. The twice-decapitated statue of Empress Josephine serves as a
reminder of more than was intended. I was living among people who knew how they had come to be where they were and
I was constantly aware that I was descended from the people who had brought this about and that my nationality was as irrelevant
to the locals as it is to the Diamond Rock. What do you say to the dreadlocked man who launches into a tirade against the captors?
In 'Contrition' I found a convoluted way to say "sorry about all that; it wasn't me".
When the time to leave Martinique was not-rapidly approaching, I wrote 'One More Rainbow' which is addressed to the island itself.
I frequently saw rainbows on Martinique and the song offers itself in exchange for a rainbow I could see from the plane when I left.
Jenny
Jenny Durling was a school friend and we also worked together part-time at the newsagent on Brighton Hill. She fell in with a new crowd in
the 1980s and I only saw her occasionally; she was now a mum and a grown-up version of the effervescent girl I had known. News of
Jenny's illness and her death came as rumours until one of her brothers, Mark or Andy, invited me to her funeral. As it turned out,
I was unable to go and I felt rotten about it for years before finally writing this kind of requiem. It became the very first of a number of songs
I wrote about people who had left us prematurely. Jenny was in her late twenties when she lost her life but how can we truly grasp such
tragedy with all this noise and distraction around us?
The Poet of Urbino
Meanwhile, back on the degree trail; my destination for another four months was to be the mediaeval city of Urbino on the Italian
Marches. I had briefly visited the people from whom I had felt so remote in Martinique; (my son in Antwerp, friends and relatives in
Paris, Gent and err, Staines and my recently-widowed Dad back in Basingstoke), so I had divested myself of the feeling of
alienation sufficiently to set off for Italy with a new sense of purpose. The Urbino experience was entirely different and so much better
in so many respects. Everyone was friendly and had time for me, the food was good and cheap and the city was beautiful.
I had taken along the little guitar my previous partner had very kindly lent me. It had also done the four month stretch with me in
Martinique and was feeling the pace a bit. I took it to an artisan luthier in Urbino who made a marked improvement. Writing songs and
poetry had become part of my everyday life; irrespective of where I was or my personal state of mind. Some evenings I could watch the
sunset from my student accommodation and gaze at the vast sky where otherwise unseen aircraft scar the deep colours with slashes of
expelled fuel and I could muse upon where those people had come from and where they were going and just how lucky I was to have
come through my ordeals and landed on my feet. In Urbino I was only alone when I wanted to be. I made friends easily there, not least
Parminder, who dragged me to different corners of Italy to introduce me to her innumerable friends. Many of these marvellous
adventures found their way into verse but the unashamedly pretentious 'Poet of Urbino' captures the memory as well as any.
Anything that ends in
a Y
Before setting off on these jaunts I had established a musical partnership with Laurence Harris, who, with his brother and two
Sisters, had grown up in Cumberland Avenue alongside me but he was now living with his girlfriend, Mandy in a rented bungalow
just outside Staines. When I returned to England to complete my degree, I took up Parminder's offer of a cheap room in Southwark
which proved to be a blessing in several respects; the house was quiet and inhabited by friendly people and 45 minutes' walk from
my Campus at Euston (an hour plus if I stopped off at the record shops in Berwick Street) and Parminder kindly allowed me to type my
entire dissertation on her computer. It was also quite easy to get to Staines to visit Laurence and Mandy and to resume our bass-
heavy dub experiments in Laurence's makeshift studio. Nevertheless, I now had a songwriting bug and there were inevitably occasions
when I would roll up to their place with a complete new song in my head; the drum-track needed to go like this and the bass needed
to go like that and Laurence might have been relegated to 'engineer' in such cases. 'Anything that ends in a Y' is a good example
of this and served to prove that I would need to get my own studio set up if I were to pursue my song-writing aims without putting
people's noses out of joint. In the event, Laurence and Mandy had to move to a smaller home so Psychotropic Studios reached the
end of their service.
The song is based on John Peel's quotation of words ascribed to either John Lydon or Sid Vicious when
asked what the Sex Pistols stood against and I dedicate it to Mandy, who died in 2011.
Inside Out
In 1998, I tucked my 2:1 under my arm and drew a line under London and Metropolitan life. I was deeply concerned about my Dad's
failing mental health; my two brothers lived in Glasgow and Florida and no one else had been monitoring his decline. He had sold the
family home in Cumberland Avenue and was to move twice in quick succession. On one or both occasions he had possessions stolen
but was seemingly unaware and symptoms grew more obvious month by month. I felt I had little choice but to claim the spare room at
his flat near the King of Wessex pub and get a job in Basingstoke, which is what I did. Thus a decade or so of itinerancy and adventure
came to an abrupt halt. I bid farewell to the now-familiar places and faces and went back to somewhere near where I had started out.
There were friends in Basingstoke with whom I'd stayed in contact throughout my time away. Lofty and I, for instance, had been exch-
anging letters and postcards and our friendship resumed almost automatically. Friends old and new came into my life and I got involved
in local events with such agitators as John McGarvey, Steve Munnelly, Leon Mook and Sweeval. Through this social life I re-met Ann.
Ann & I had first met as teenagers; she was at Richard Aldworth; I was at Cranbourne. We had always inhabited the same social scene
and I knew all her partners over two decades. All of them had let her down one way or another and we found ourselves gravitating
together. What I love about Ann is her sense of humour and the fact that she was always inclined to 'blokey' music rather than the
mush the industry aims at her. Ann ordered records from Knights' and gleefully picked them up the following week; utterly admirable.
She owns the Overkill 45 that nestles in my collection of local music; she bought it from the band at Magnums in 1980. She's my kin'a gal.
It is difficult to imagine what I might have done had Ann not given me the stability of a warm home and food on the table. Furthermore
she liked having a musician as a partner and welcomed (most of) my muso friends as her own and encouraged me to indulge my passion
for creating new music. My Dad died in 2005. We got married a year later and this was to be our home for the foreseeable future...
River of Lights
My new career in my old town began, interestingly or not, with a three month stint with the Job Centre (as a contracted employee,
not as a claimant) but I didn't enjoy that and decided to become a courier driver which also had its disadvantages but nevertheless
suited me better than a desk job. My acquired skills were in foreign languages and, as I learned first-hand from the DWP; of little
or no use in Basingstoke. At least in a van I could control my work environment and not be subjected to intolerable local radio or
office politics. I had some interesting adventures too in those years; I might write them up in another chapter.
In the noughties I got active on MySpace, getting my music and my songs heard in odd places across the globe. Lofty & I took our
first tentative steps towards forming a band which culminated in the formation of 'The Raz Brothers' in 2007. As it turned out, we
were in on the ground floor of the local music scene's greatest decade. I got actively involved with Basingstoke Live Festival and
performed many times with the Raz Brothers and various other ensembles. We were basically a funky rock band playing songs by
Lofty and/or me with the odd cover thrown in. Our most popular tune (with the band at least) was my song 'River of Lights' which
Is utterly pretentious nonsense about my experience as a courier; often stuck in traffic on a dark, rainy night; blurry red lights
stretch ahead while the white ones on the other carriageway are on their way home. The music for the song evolved to be quite
dramatic yet it was simple enough to allow extended solos and even percussion break-downs and was always fun to perform.
THE RAZ BROTHERS:
River of Lights
The Light Lounge, 8th November 2008
Video by Ann
Featuring (left to right-ish) Dan Leese, Delta Del, Martin King, Serena Lee, Jason Gregory, Lofty Spires, Pussycat Johnson, Sam Duncan,
John McGarvey, Ian 'Spoon' Fuller, Paul Downes, Loz Lozza, Ray Harvey, Andy Kennedy, Leon Mook (probably) and Robbie Fraser
THE RAZ BROTHERS River
of Lights
Basingstoke Live 2010
Video by Martin King
Featuring Dan Leese, Leon, George, Puss, Joe French, Lofty, Delta Del, Trudi, Ann, Sarah, Matthew and his friend
The Drummer
Ordinary Bloke
I don't write many raps but these two have served me well. The Drummer was first set to a Supertramp sample and became a
favourite of my DJ friend Paul Avery. We also performed it in the Raz Brothers in a different form. Ordinary Bloke seems like
an exercise in cramming an autobiography into four minutes and is one of a number of things I've written that, rightly or wrongly,
assert my local identity. The throwaway cliché 'put the town on the map' was intended to lampoon the local council who wheeled
the term out quite regularly in anticipation of the half-baked, ill-conceived and tepid entertainment they sometimes provided as
the alternative to what Basingstoke's musically switched-on kids actually and obviously wanted.
Banks & Supermarkets Rule Our Lives
The Raz Brothers did not endure as the rest of the band wanted to do more gigs and play R&B covers. To that end, they formed a
new ensemble behind John McGarvey, naming themselves Johnny Marvel's Blues Groove (or variations thereon). I wasn't thrilled
about this at first but in the bigger scheme; it was what they wanted to do while I was entirely focused on my own material. I took
to performing solo and wrote quite a few songs that I could play out. One such was 'Banks & Supermarkets Rule Our Lives'. Ann's
video of my rendering of the song in 2012 has been perhaps-justly overlooked on YouTube although it earned a compliment from
Nick Harper and does demonstrate that I was a reasonably adept guitar player for a while.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vf6DLnDkQjI
Bang Bang Shangalang
This was a Raz Brothers song that I incorporated into my solo set although I'd written the text back in the 90s. The version for which
Leon Mook made the video, was recorded by Jack Tanner at his erstwhile home in Sherfield in 2011.
The Rememberer
In the same era, Jack and I also recorded 'The Rememberer' and as well as producing the track, he added the fabulous guitar breaks.
The second decade of the 21st Century began in disputes with a former-employer and Maria Miller. I will spare you the details but
the short-term implications were 'no work, no income' so I took to busking in Wote Street. In fact I never sang on the street; just
played my nylon-stringed guitar in a manner that said I was an out-of-work musician rather than homeless or alcohol-dependant.
This kept the pennies trickling in for about five years until Ann & I made arrangements with George Osborne that effectively gave
us the opportunity to retire early. During the busking era I had conceived the idea of researching a book about Basingstoke's music
scene in the 1960s. Some of the money from the hat went on photocopies at the Library where I would do my research. I began
with a WordPress site which proved popular, then condensed the relevant content into a series of books; the first of which (written
in collaboration with Steve Partridge) brought Status Quo songwriter Bob Young, Monster Raving Loony Party leader Alan Hope and
Troggs bass-player Pete Staples to the Tea Bar for its launch in 2015. The 330 copies produced sold out in a year and are now rare.
Another good thing that happened in that era is that local soul singer Natasha Watts asked me to play guitar for her at a number of events.
These included live performances on Jazz FM and on Matt Allwright's radio show on BBC Berkshire and my only-ever TV appearance - on
London Live TV in 2015: The backing singer is Vanessa.
(The vid is posted on Facebook and you may need to log in to see it)
Natasha invited me to join the band she was putting together for a gig at the Jazz Café but I couldn't get on with them in rehearsal and
I had to pass that one up. Otherwise she was great to work with and I'm very proud to have played my part. My one regret is that I didn't
Get Natasha to sing any of my songs. But hey, there's still time...
Part Two: The Dislodger; Songs & Poems 2018 - 2022
Here is the book in its entirety without any irritating anecdotes; I hope that all or most of these are self-extra-planetary.
RAZ RAZZLE'S
Lyrical Lockdown
Songs: December 2020 - August 2021
Five Lanes
End
Monty Don's
Pan-Galactic Gardening Club
White Hetero
Male
We Learn It
All From Les
Painting
Grandad Was A Viking
Lockdown
Lament
My Mind And My Body Want A Divorce
Obituary
Androgynous
Gynandromorph
Conspiracy
Theories
Fiction
& Reality
How
Different It Might All Have Been
Physics
Re-Branded
Virtue
Signalman
Wicked Word
Five Lanes End
There's a place not far
from here I only ever knew by name,
Never having been there was
to my eternal shame,
So I found it on a map and
got together with a friend,
And we drove out to the
ancient place called Five Lanes End.
We parked outside the
church and started slowly up the hill,
Butterflies were dancing
and the air was very still,
And after fifteen minutes
at an even, gentle pace,
We knew we had arrived at
the legendary place.
Beneath a leafy canopy, the
old tracks intersect,
Somehow their convergence
has a magical effect,
Where travellers would
wander and wayfarers would wend,
Along the Harrow Way to
here at Five Lanes End.
I thought of all the people
that had passed this way before,
And drove their sheep and
cattle four millennia and more,
And I thought of all the
armies with Kingdoms to defend,
That marched to death or
glory via Five Lanes End.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monty Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club
All
across the Universe, Monty is known,
Respected
for the interstellar plants he has grown,
He's
the personal adviser to James T. Kirk.
The
Klingons and the Daleks are aware of his work,
Monty
takes his secateurs on all of his trips,
Light
years in the future they still follow Monty's tips,
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club.
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club.
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club,
Every
garden in the Cosmos has Monty at the hub,
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club.
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club,
Monty's
in his garden with his alien weeds,
He's
got a mate on Saturn who sent him some seeds,
He
crossed a Venus Fly Trap with a Marigold from Mars,
It
ate two pairs of wellies and an ornamental vase,
Beetles
from Uranus come to feed on a shrub,
He
grew in his greenhouse in a terracotta tub,
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club.
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club,
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club.
His
astral limes and lemons make a lovely syllabub,
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club.
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club.
There's
a plant in Monty's nursery whose flower smells like vomit,
Only
bees from Mercury can drink the nectar from it,
Insects
can detect its scent from Pluto and beyond,
Dragonflies
from Neptune come to breed on Monty's pond,
Across
the Universe his name is renowned,
His
methods are humane and ecologically sound,
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club.
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club,
We
cultivated planets of sidereal scrub,
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club.
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club.
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club,
Pruning
of your rhododendrons should be done in June,
(Or
August if your garden's on the dark side of the Moon),
Junipers
on Jupiter will flower every year,
(April
2091 is when they'll next appear),
Beetles
from Uranus come to feed on a shrub,
He
grew in his greenhouse in a terracotta tub,
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club.
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club,
Monty
knows the way to put everything right,
He
shows humankind in a positive light,
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club.
Monty
Don's Pan-Galactic Gardening Club.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
White
Hetero Male
I
am the white, hetero male and everything is great,
The
only problems that I have are those that I create,
I
am the white, hetero male; I'm loved everywhere that I sail,
The
Good Lord watches over me; how could I possibly fail?
I
am the white, hetero male and everything is great,
Anything
I want is handed to me on a plate,
I
am the white, hetero male and I'm destined to prevail,
And
impose my superior culture on a monumental scale.
I
am the white, hetero male and everything is cool,
I'm
happy with the version of history that I was taught at school,
I
am the white, hetero male; you've seen me on TV,
I'm
the one that comes along to set the captives free,
I
am the white, hetero male; I keep my ass out of jail,
There's
always someone to speak for me and someone to pay my bail.
I
am the white, hetero male and I'm blazing the trail,
All
attempts to hold me back have been to no avail,
I
am the white, hetero male; I may be ageing and frail,
But
I'm not ashamed of what I am and I'm proud to be pale.
I
am the white, hetero male and my will shall be done,
And
what is good for me must be good for everyone.
..................................
We Learn It All From Les
Les dropped by for a cosy chat; to tell us this and tell us that,
And why Americans are fat; we learn it all from Les.
The world is run by a small élite from the Mothership of an alien
fleet,
They find your house on Google Street; we learn it all from Les.
Les believes the world is flat; the CIA have bugged his flat,
They've chipped his dog and killed his cat; we learn it all from
Les.
The Dalai Lama likes a smoke, Sir Keir Starmer; is a joke,
Michele Obama is a bloke; we learn it all from Les.
Mass detentions; on the way; propaganda; every day,
Nine-Eleven; best not say; we learn it all from Les.
Freemasons control our lives; they fill our streets with drugs and
knives,
And then place bets on who survives; we learn it all from Les.
They control the food supply; they decide when you will die,
By toxins raining from the sky; we learn it all from Les.
They watch you from their lofty peak; they threaten those that dare
to speak,
Or label you a truther-freak; we learn it all from Les.
Les believes our masters keep; working people penned like sheep,
You won't complain if you're asleep; we learn it all from Les.
Les believes that it's too late; humanity can but await;
The global military State, we learn it all from Les.
Les lives in a different time; he sees life as a pantomime,
Insight is his only crime; we could all learn a lot from Les.
Rebel rouser in his youth; fought the system nail and tooth,
Spends his life in search of truth; we all need friends like Les.
___________________________________
Painting
I'm
going to take up painting; that's what I'm going to do!
I'm
done with words and music; I'm trying something new,
Rock
and roll and literature have served me very well,
My
lexicon is richer; maybe you can tell?
(But)
I'm going to take up painting; that's what I'm going to do!
I'm
gonna paint a sea-green sky and a sea of navy blue,
I'm
gonna paint a portrait; maybe one of you!
Gonna
paint a landscape; you'll be in that too,
I'm
going to take up painting; I'm through with all the verse,
I
thought that it might help but it has only made things worse,
I've
noticed no improvement in the movement of my vowels,
My
poems are just sequences of rude, primeval howls.
So
I'm going to take up painting; that's where my future lies,
To
find that I am rubbish won't be any great surprise,
But
I'm typing in the last full-stop and making a new start,
Coz
I want to be that tortured soul that suffers for his art,
(So)
I'm going to take up painting; that's what I'm going to do!
I'm
gonna paint a sea-green sky and a sea of navy blue,
I'm
gonna paint a portrait; maybe one of you!
Gonna
paint a landscape; you'll be in that too.
I'm
bored of all the metaphors and dreary paradigms,
Wearied
by the world of words and the endless search for rhymes,
I'm
trading in the music for a little piece of hush,
I'm
trading in the drum and bass for an easel and a brush.
I'm
going to take up painting and rent an attic room,
Where
mice and rats and fat cockroaches scuttle in the gloom,
The
world of art is mediocre, pale and stale and bland,
But
devotees need not despair; salvation is at hand!
(Coz)
I'm going to take up painting; that's what I'm going to do!
I'm
gonna paint a sea-green sky and a sea of navy blue,
I'm
gonna paint a portrait; maybe one of you!
Gonna
paint a landscape; you'll be in that too.
Yes,
I'm going to take up painting; I might have a gift?
But
I won't know till I've closed the door and cut myself adrift,
I'm
going to take up painting; set my spirit free,
And
one day they might hang me in the gallery.
A
Bowie or a Marley I was never meant to be,
A
Degas or a Dali is the destiny for me,
A
prophet and a poet are both something that I ain't,
It's
time that I invested in a canvas and some paint.
(So)
I'm going to take up painting; that's what I'm going to do!
I'm
gonna paint a sea-green sky and a sea of navy blue,
I'm
gonna paint a portrait; maybe one of you!
Gonna
paint a landscape; you'll be in that too.
____________________
Grandad
was a Viking
Grandad
was a Viking; his name was Razelred,
He
wore a metal helmet with two horns upon his head,
If
you contradicted him, you had to know your facts,
Or
else he'd stove your head in with the blunt end of his axe.
Grandad
was a Viking; war was to his liking,
His
hobbies were impaling, bayonetting and spiking,
Grandad
was a Viking from the land of ice and fire,
He
came across by boat because he was a nervous flyer,
He
liked his reindeer extra-rare and ate his herring raw,
He
made his wife sleep in the bed while he slept on the floor.
Grandad
was a Viking; war was to his liking,
He
was also fond of nature trails and often went out hiking.
Grandad
was a Viking though that's a poor excuse,
For
having lots of naughty thoughts or morals that are loose,
That
is all that I can say in my defence m'Lud,
Grandad
was a Viking; it must be in my blood.
Grandad
was a Viking; war was to his liking,
He
joined the Triumph Owners Club and took up motor-biking.
Grandad
was a Viking; he had a long, grey beard,
A
burning long-ship was observed the night he disappeared,
Grandad
left no earthly goods but a Celtic cross of gold,
The
man on the Antiques Roadshow said it was only five years old.
Grandad
was a Viking; war was to his liking,
His
hobbies were impaling, bayonetting and spiking,
Grandad
was a Viking; war was to his liking,
He
looked like Thor, the god of war; the likeness was quite striking.
--------------------------------
Quarantine
Angst (Geddit?)
Lockdown
Lament
Vans
and cars don't hurtle past our window any more,
Friends
no longer pass this way or knock upon our door,
But
thankfully the TV screen is here to reassure,
And
constantly remind us of the lives we knew before.
Weatherfield and Walford
still remain the way they were,
The
sun still shines on Midsomer where murders still
occur,
Day-trips
to the seaside aren't against the law,
In
the televised reminders of the world we knew before.
Commentators
still go ape-shit; stadia still roar,
Footballers
still kiss each other every time they score,
Families
on holidays build castles on the shore;
Ephemeral
mementos of the lives we knew before.
No
cars in the car park, no one in the street,
No
noise from the nightclub; no more disco beat,
Telly
though (and radio) have all you want and more!
Music
to transport us back to where we were before.
----------------------
My
mind and my body want a divorce
My
mind thinks my body no longer fits the bill; it doesn't have the wherewithal;
it doesn't have the will,
My
body thinks my mind might be terminally ill; my mind and my body want a
divorce.
My
body says my mind is over-worked and over-fed, and maybe would be happier in
someone else's head,
My
body wants to find a compatible mind by which it could be led; my mind and my
body want a divorce.
My
mind and my body are filing for divorce; the body/mind relationship looks like it's run its course,
Any
love there might have been was stifled at its source; neither mind nor body
shows a soupcon of remorse,
My
mind thinks my body is getting out of shape and it thinks it's in a contract,
from which it can't escape,
It's
sick of being bound up in ribbons of red tape; it's tired of being locked
inside this knuckle-dragging ape,
My
mind thinks my body is no longer up to speed; my body cannot argue and is happy
to concede,
It's
just become a burden that a young mind doesn't need; my mind and my body want a
divorce.
My
body says my mind goes away for far too long when it's working on a project; a
poem or a song,
My
mind responds by saying that my body's got it wrong; my mind and my body want a
divorce.
My
body says my mind has put a strain upon my heart; their symbiotic interface was
buggered from the start,
After
sixty years together, they've been able to reflect (that) the decision to
combine them was clearly not correct,
And
though they are the keepers of my spirit and my soul; they never quite saw eye
to eye or shared a common goal,
Never
were they in accord or mutually agreed; to separate irrevocably is their common
need.
My
body says my mind is getting too big for its boots, corporeally wrenched from
its existential roots,
This
is an allegation that the other half refutes; my mind and my body want a
divorce,
My
body is exhausted; it needs to take a break but when it wants to sleep it seems
my mind is wide awake,
Both
believe their marriage was a terrible mistake; my mind and my body want a
divorce.
My
body and my mind have been together all their days; they had no opportunity to
go their separate ways,
My
body's lost the will to live; my mind has lost the plot; a marriage of
convenience it certainly is not,
Plans
to reunite them are not worth a second glance; reconciliation has no realistic
chance,
Neither
party offers any hope in these regards; an amicable settlement was never on the
cards,
My
body needs my mind to keep its feet on the ground, my mind needs my body so it
can move around,
Antipathy
between them is deep-rooted and profound; my mind and my body want a divorce.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Obituary
Raz was only ninety-eight when he rocked up at
St. Peter's Gate,
The vaccine had arrived too late; he will be
sorely missed,
"There's nothing quite as fleeting as the time a
human being has,
To make sense of the world", said Raz (one night
when he was pissed),
Raz
possessed a special mind; he was cultured, travelled and refined,
Faithful,
generous and kind, he will be sorely missed.
Raz
was born of modest folk; made his home in Basingstoke,
"Just
an ordinary bloke", he will be sorely missed.
The younger Raz excelled at sports (according to
Gazette reports),
An antelope in football shorts, he will be sorely
missed.
Raz possessed a way with words; drove them in
stampeding herds,
Raz loved animals and birds, he will be sorely
missed.
Raz
was handsome in his day; broke some hearts along the way,
Frequently
was led astray, he will be sorely missed,
Raz
was never born to lead or to follow or succeed,
Fame
was what he didn't need, he will be sorely missed.
Raz was often too polite to those that treated
him like shite,
He smiled and just said "that's alright", he will
be sorely missed,
Raz was blessed with wit and charm; always
disciplined and calm,
Meant nobody any harm, he will be sorely missed.
He
always struggled to resist the urge to be a narcissist,
The
CIA's most-wanted list had him down as a socialist,
He
found the competition tough; thought he wasn't good enough,
Made
caustic comments off the cuff; he will be sorely missed.
Like a long-neglected Steif;
Raz was rescued by his wife,
From the sad and lonely life in which he did
exist,
Raz was sometimes self-obsessed; his mind would
never let him rest,
He didn't like to be a pest; he will be sorely
missed.
"There's
nothing quite as fleeting as the time a human being has,
To
make sense of the world", said Raz, "And time does not desist",
Raz's
oeuvre; deep and vast; a legacy designed to last,
His
banner flying from the mast, he will be sorely missed.
----------------------------------------------------------
Androgynous Gynandromorph
I am profoundly shallow but my artifice is deep, prudentially I'm
costly; astronomically I'm cheap,
I'm an apposite absurdity but an incoherent truth; I'm an infant
old-age pensioner but a geriatric youth,
I'm devoutly irreligious but agnostically divine, prosaically
sensational but wildly anodyne,
I'm a counterfeit original but genuinely fake, a spontaneously
preconceived deliberate mistake,
I'm an ignominious victory; a glorious defeat, archaically I'm
up-to-date but freshly obsolete,
I'm openly elusive but I'm secretly overt, I'm diligently dormant
but unconsciously alert,
I'm silently insistent but defiantly contrite, articulately
ignorant but densely erudite,
I'm delicately masculine but savagely effete, pusillanimously bold
but loutishly discrete,
I'm passively industrious but actively sedate, directly convoluted
but I'm sinuously straight,
Itinerantly static but immobile on the move, I'm regularly out of
time but erratically in the groove,
I am robustly vulnerable, infectiously immune; discordantly
harmonious but nicely out of tune,
I'm suddenly insidious but gradually abrupt; I'm fraudulently
virtuous but honestly corrupt,
I'm unrelatedly implicated, centrally uninvolved, belatedly
prioritised and conclusively unresolved,
I'm an ill-considered masterplan for an undesired ideal, centrally
peripheral to the uninvented wheel,
I'm certified completely sane; a rational lunatic, although obesely
wafer thin; diaphanously thick,
Visibly inaudible, unseen by human ear, tangibly untouchable but
splendidly austere,
I am a harmful vaccine for a beneficial plague; I disobey
compliantly and passively renege,
A permeable barrier, an impenetrable portal, a healthy
hypochondriac, a moribund immortal,
I am a tunnel through the air; an underwater bridge, an ice cube in
the microwave, a bonfire in the fridge,
Disgracefully exalted but proudly self-abased, celestially
down-to-Earth; terrestrially spaced,
I am a lonely socialite; a garrulous recluse; contrarily
cooperative but helpfully obtuse,
An untrustworthy ally but an amiable foe, unfathomably high but
immeasurably low,
I'm preciously expendable; a non-prerequisite; perpetually
transient but briefly infinite,
Exceptionally normal but an ordinary freak; the future that I left
behind was dazzlingly bleak.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Conspiracy
Theories
Conspiracy
theories are the norm; they manifest in every form,
Truthers
once were very rare; now you find them everywhere,
Truthers
always used to be pariahs of society,
Finding
crazy explanations for the worst abominations,
Once
you were a fool to say it was the work of the CIA,
Once no
one would want to know if you said you saw a UFO,
Conspiracy
theories are the norm; they manifest in every form,
Truthers
once were very rare; now you find them everywhere,
Derisive
laughter would ensue if you questioned the accepted view,
Conspiracy
theories have evolved and grown; eveybody's got one
of their own,
A truth
that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent,
Conspiracy
theories are de rigueur, make your own if you prefer,
No one
trusts the Government; everybody knows they're bent,
Everyone
believes the Law is rank and rotten to the core,
Conspiracy
theories are the norm; they manifest in every form,
Truthers
once were very rare; now you find them everywhere,
Derisive
laughter would ensue if you questioned the accepted view,
Conspiracy
theories have evolved and grown; maybe you've got one of your own.
---------------------------------------------------
Fiction and Reality
Fiction and reality are fast becoming blurred,
Drama gets more credible; the news gets more absurd,
Reality and fiction are forever intertwined,
No longer can I separate them in my tortured mind.
My powers of distinction
have been mercilessly drained,
Am I being lectured or am I
being entertained?
Fiction and reality are
melding into one,
Is this Panorama or A New Life in the Sun?
Is this just a news report,
an advert or a soap?
Why is Peggy Mitchell with
His Holiness the Pope?
Is art imitating life or is
life imitating art?
I have the greatest
difficulty telling them apart,
I really have to wonder if
things have gone too far,
Now life's an interactive
film and everyone's a star,
When I'm watching Gogglebox and chatting with my spouse,
Are we being laughed at in
somebody else's house?
A doctor gave me good
advice on Graham Norton's show,
Now, was it Dr Shipman, Dr
Who or Dr No?
Well anyway, he said that I
should keep two yards between,
Myself and all the faces on
my television screen.
Fiction and reality freely
interweave,
Impossible scenarios are
easy to believe,
Reality is like a kind of
interactive game,
Fiction is less vivid but
otherwise the same,
Fiction and reality are fast becoming blurred,
Drama gets more credible; the news gets more absurd,
Reality and fiction are forever intertwined,
No longer can I separate them in my tortured mind.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
How
different it might all have been...
How
different it might all have been if Christmas was in June,
If little
Jimi Hendrix had been given a bassoon,
And if the baby
Jesus had been born in Basingstoke,
And if that
Adolf Hitler had been a decent bloke,
How
different it might all have been if fate had interjected,
And if the
Crown Heights edifices hadn't been erected,
And if a
dark-skinned people had colonised the west,
The
pale-skinned people might have been exploited and oppressed,
How
different it might all have been, for better or for worse,
If Piers
Morgan had been born in a different Universe,
And if that
Thomas Edison had invented MP3s,
My home
would not be choc-a-bloc with records and CDs,
How
different it might all have been if things were not the same,
If there had
been no offside rule to ruin every game,
How
different it might all have been if fate had other plans,
And
Sainsbury's sold happiness in 50 litre cans.
How
different it might all have been if things were not the same.
---------------------------------------------------------
Physics
I've been reading Physics; I've
learned a lot today,
Encyclopaedia Britannica had loads to
say,
And then I went on Wiki, which told me
even more,
So ask me any question; I can answer
it for sure.
Up till now I'd never known what
Einstein had meant,
But now I see why space is curved and
the Universe is bent,
The fact that supernovas can exude a
nasty smell,
Is no surprise as I've been reading
Chemistry as well,
I know it sounds unlikely and some of
you will scoff,
But I travelled back in time and heard
the Big Bang going off,
And then I travelled forward to where
the Cosmos ends,
So I knew that I had lots of time to
say goodbye to friends.
I'm going to be arrested by the Space
Police tonight,
For doing 15 MPH above the speed of
light,
I'm going to be imprisoned by the
Ministry of Space,
For piloting my time machine beyond
its proper place,
Einstein and Hawking have infinity to
share,
In the unperceived dimension that they
always knew was there,
Soaking up this info was a monumental
task,
But I think I've understood it all so
go ahead and ask.
.................................
Re-Branded
My manager
informs me that my style is out of date,
My image
needs refreshing or it's gonna be too late,
I'm being
rebranded,
My career
will go to the wall unless I get an overhaul,
So I'm being
re-branded.
My agent
says my fan-base is dwindling day by day,
He thinks my
craggy toothless face is driving them away,
So I'm being
re-branded,
I gotta stay
ahead of the game; so they're giving me a brand new name,
Yes, I'm
being re-branded.
My record
label tells me that my music is too dull,
I need to
sound less like myself and more like Jethro Tull,
So I'm being
re-branded,
I had an
album out in the fall; it sold no copies at all,
So I'm
getting re-branded.
My profile
needs a re-vamp; I'm tired of being the loveable tramp,
So I'm
getting re-branded.
It seems kinda pointless because no one even knew who I was,
Before being
re-branded,
The image of
the beautiful boy no longer seems a plausible ploy,
So I'm being
re-branded.
-------------------------------
Virtue Signalman
I am the virtue signalman; I man the signal box,
Beside the superhighway, amid the tower blocks,
I send out lots of signals to people rushing by,
To leave them in no doubt what my signals signify,
I am the virtue signalman; I'm good in word and deed,
I show no signs of selfishness; no vestiges of greed,
My motives are impeccable; credentials crystal clear,
A true humanitarian; honest and sincere.
I am the virtue signalman; you all know where I stand,
There are no secrets up my sleeve; there is no sleight of hand,
My closet door is open, no skeletons are shown,
(Except of course, my own which has no single, racist bone).
I am the virtue signalman; though altruist I ain't,
I've suffered the stigmata just to prove I'm not a saint,
So when the accusations fly, my name's not in the hat,
Never will I be the one the finger's pointing at.
I am the virtue signalman; I man the signal box,
Beside the superhighway, amid the tower blocks,
I send out lots of signals to people rushing by,
To leave them in no doubt what my signals signify,
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Wicked Word
I
used a wicked word once; when I was young and green,
I've
always said that I was twelve though actually thirteen,
One
way or the other, I wasn't very old,
But
it went onto my school report and my mum & dad were told.
Mum
was incandescent; she said I was a brat!
She
told the school that she would never use a word like that,
I
think about that moment; it always makes me wince,
I
used a wicked word once but I've never used it since.
I
used a wicked word once; I don't know why I did,
I
got this strange compulsion that you get when you're a kid,
I
used it out of context; I didn't think it rude,
I
couldn't have imagined the mayhem that ensued;
I
glanced around the classroom where mouths were open wide,
If
looks could kill, I swear that in that instant, I'd have died,
My
teacher overheard it; she took me to the Head,
Who
lectured me for hours on the word that I had said,
He
was a tall and ugly man, who prattled on and on,
He
knew the word in German and its Latin etymon,
And
then I got my punishment; six strokes of his cane,
I
vowed that I would never use that wicked word again.
I
used a wicked word once, when I was just a pup,
I
don't know where I'd heard it; I thought I'd made it up,
I
dare not tell you what it was; I do not have the front,
I
used a wicked word once; what a silly sausage.
WALK-IN
WARDANCE
Songs:
October - November 2021
Demo
When Ann & Raz Lived Here
Too Much Too Many
Blah Blah Blah
Kippers
The Kicking Club
The Record Collector
Redaction Man
He Wore A Yellow Hi-Viz
Whistleblower
The Undreamable
Minister Of Truth
Song For Flo
Three Minute Movie
Demo
One Sunday afternoon I was talking
to my mate;
I sang him a tune and he thought
that it was great,
And my Grandad said we could record
it in his shed,
In amongst the garden implements with
the spiders hanging overhead,
It was only a demo; I wrote it in my sleep,
It was only a demo; recorded on the cheap,
It was only a demo; they laughed when I said;
It was recorded on cassette tape in my Grandad's garden shed.
The shed was made of wood with thin,
felt roofing,
Acoustics weren't so good and
neither was the sound proofing,
But I borrowed a guitar from a
friend of my Mums',
And a sheet of stainless steel
served as the drums,
It was only a demo; I wrote it in my sleep,
It was only a demo; recorded on the cheap,
It was only a demo; they laughed when I said;
It was recorded on cassette tape in my Grandad's garden shed.
Then we gave our cassette to a
geezer that we met,
He said he was connected to the
internet,
The video went viral on both sides
of the pond,
We began our upward spiral to the
stars and beyond,
It was only a demo; I wrote it in my sleep,
It was only a demo; recorded on the cheap,
It was only a demo; they laughed when I said;
It was recorded on cassette tape in my Grandad's garden shed.
It shifted lots of units and
received a million hits,
I was nominated in three categories
at the Brits,
Suddenly I found myself swamped in
royalties,
I received a Knighthood and the band
got OBEs,
It was only a demo; I wrote it in my sleep,
It was only a demo; recorded on the cheap,
It was only a demo; they laughed when I said;
It was recorded on cassette tape in my Grandad's garden shed.
-----------------------
When Ann & Raz Lived Here
Print
these words upon a sign above the number sixty-nine,
To
notify the next-in-line that Ann & Raz lived here,
This
house was filled with love and joy that time or tide could not destroy,
One
old girl and one old boy called Ann & Raz lived here.
Friends dropped by for tea and sympathy,
Or a glass of wine in the shade of the
apple tree when Ann & Raz lived here.
The
garden gate was never locked; the fridge was always over-stocked,
The
drain seemed permanently blocked when Ann & Raz lived here,
The
toilet seat was always loose, (It suffered terrible abuse),
Laziness
was their excuse when Ann & Raz lived here.
Puss-cats
were always around when times were tough,
Sam
and Polly and Dusty and Mr. Fluff, when Ann & Raz lived here,
Ann
& Raz worked as a team to realise their childhood dream,
They
chose a dodgy colour-scheme when Ann & Raz lived here,
Books
and records filled the space; it was a mess but no disgrace,
This
house was a happy place when Ann & Raz lived here.
Outside; it had a rustic elegance,
Inside; there was a cheerful ambience
when Ann & Raz lived here,
When Ann & Raz lived
here.
===================
Too Much Too Many
Too many secrets; too many leaks; too many troughs; too many peaks,
Too many stories; too much news; too many opinions; too many views,
Too much obstruction; too many blocks; too much excitement; too
many shocks;
Too many portals; too many gates; too many Nations; too many
States,
Too much conflict; too many wars; too much enforcement; too many
laws,
Too much illusion; too many lies; too much intrusion; too many
spies,
Too many taxes; too many fees; too much corruption; too much
sleaze,
Too many fraudsters; too many fakes; too many ladders; too many
snakes,
Too much sugar; too many cakes; too many cock-ups; too many mistakes,
Too much exertion; too many sports; too much nostalgia; too many
thoughts,
Too many writers; too many scribes; too many fighters; too many
tribes,
Too many sanctions; too many cuts; too many ifs; too many buts,
Too much equipment; too many tools; too much oppression; too many
rules,
Too much scope; too many themes; too much hope; too many dreams,
Too much sunshine; too much rain; too many heartaches; too much
pain,
Too many problems;
too much doubt; too many things to worry about.
______________________
Blah, blah, blah
We're cutting back emissions, blah, blah, blah, when we get the
right conditions, blah, blah, blah,
Trust your politicians, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...
Shake the magic money tree, blah, blah, blah, sustainable
prosperity, blah, blah, blah,
Infinite green energy, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah,
We'll level up and
make the system fair; we'll see that everybody pays their share,
We've got a fool
proof plan at number 10 to make Mother Earth cool again,
Care in the community, blah, blah, blah, herd immunity, blah, blah,
blah,
Business opportunity, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...
Everything's renewable, blah, blah, blah;
everyone is viewable, blah, blah, blah,
Anything is doable, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...
We're building
hospitals and roads and schools and we're no longer burning fossil fuels,
The market will come
up with something soon; a new tomorrow starts this afternoon,
Our planet needs renewing, blah, blah, blah; that's the path that
we're pursuing, blah, blah, blah,
We know what we're doing, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah,
You can vote with confidence, blah, blah, blah, I speak in your
defence, blah, blah, blah,
It's only common sense, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...
Future generations
will understand why all our crap is buried in their land,
And if the air they
breathe is poisonous; responsibility remains with us,
Trust your fate to market forces, blah, blah, blah, to optimize the
Earth's resources, blah, blah, blah,
And stabilize the water courses, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...
Let me lead you to the light, blah, blah, blah; stick with me,
you'll be alright, blah, blah, blah,
When you're walking home at night, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Kippers
I
like smoking kippers; I like to smoke 'em on the
patio,
My
wife brings me my pipe and slippers and we sit and watch the embers glow,
I dreamt that I spoke to God about
kippers in the back of an Eddie Stobart truck,
When I awoke I was back home in
Basingstoke; that was an amazing stroke of luck.
The
neighbours love the smell of my kippers; they stick their heads over the fence,
So
we invite them round for kippers and we smoke 'em
till nothin' makes no sense,
I dreamt that I spoke to God about
kippers in the back of an Eddie Stobart truck,
When I awoke I was back home in
Basingstoke; that was an amazing stroke of luck.
Invite
your friends for kippers; your party will go with a swing,
But
if you find there's one that looks a little overdone; it could just be a red
herring,
I dreamt that I spoke to God about
kippers in the back of an Eddie Stobart truck,
When I awoke I was back home in
Basingstoke; that was an amazing stroke of luck,
When I awoke I was back home in
Basingstoke; that was an amazing stroke of luck.
-----------------------------------------
Kicking Club
I feel a
need to kick someone; I'm in the frame of mind,
To literally
or metaphorically kick somebody's behind,
And when I'm
in a kicking mood, to Facebook do I go;
For there it
is the pastime of people that I know,
To seek out
and identify and publically lambast,
Those that
merit hatred and deserve to be harassed,
And there's
a pool of candidates from which I'm free to pick;
The object
of my hatred that I'd most like to kick at the Kicking Club,
There are
lots of kicking clubs and all are free to join,
And nothing
beats a size 10 Dr. Marten in the groin,
You can kick
the Cabinet; Sunak, Gove or Mogg;
You can kick
a human being like it were a dog,
When I'm
feeling down and things aren't going well,
I aim a kick
at Priti Patel,
And when I
need to let off steam, what always does the trick;
Is to lay
the boot into Cressida Dick at the Kicking Club,
Those
overpaid prima donnas; don't they make you sick,
I can show
them how to take a penalty kick,
Kicking is
cathartic; it helps me to express,
The pent-up
anger I don't like admitting I possess.
You can vent
your discontent, your anger and your spleen,
Kick against
the system and the government machine,
Aim a boot
at Boris as he goes by on his bike,
Anywhere you
fancy, any time you like, at the Kicking Club.
Kick the
Tory tosspot in his country seat,
Kick the can
a little further down a dead end street,
Universal ridicule;
I'm always up for that,
I always
sleep more soundly when I've called someone a twat,
If judge and
jury were a little lenient with you;
Your trial
by social media will surely ensue,
Men of
distinction or men of the cloth;
They just
can't help incurring the wrath of the Kicking Club.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Record Collector
The record collector is out on the town; weeding them out; tracking
them down,
In the second-hand stores and the charity shops, his mission is
endless; the search never stops,
The record collector believes it his duty to raid your collection
and plunder your booty,
He covets your gatefolds and Vertigo swirls; they're much more
exciting than money or girls,
He's there at the car boot at 7 a.m.; hoping to pick up a bargain
or gem,
Adrenalin rushes the moment he enters; he can smell 45s with
triangular centres,
But other collectors have got to them first; of all of his
nightmares; this is the worst,
But he comes across something the others have missed; a Sex Pistols
single not known to exist,
The record collector
is out on the town; weeding them out; tracking them down,
In the second-hand
stores and the charity shops, his mission is endless; the search never stops,
He showed me the promos and rare acetates he found at the back of
some old wooden crates,
A one-sided demo he swears is Adele (and apparently one by the Beatles as well),
He's frequently at the municipal tip, fishing old vinyl out of a skip,
Led Zeppelin One on the plum-coloured label he found underneath an
occasional table,
The record collector
believes it his duty to raid your collection and plunder your booty,
He covets your
gatefolds and Vertigo swirls; they're much more exciting than money or girls.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Redaction Man
I am the redactor; my job is to redact, to leave no
memo legible; no document intact,
I am the redactor; I wield a big, black pen, my
work is to ensure those words are never read again,
Redacting for the public good to my redaction plan;
nothing must be understood;
I am Redaction Man.
I am the redactor and the words I'm striking
through; are the words of those that pay me to perform the work I do,
Such is my profession; I obfuscate and blur acts of
indiscretion that never did occur,
I never take a photograph, a screenshot or a scan,
I never do a thing by half; I am Redaction Man.
I am the redactor; I know what life's about, the
words are chosen carefully before I cross them out,
I am the redactor; my aim is to expel, the names of
those that said the words and the words they said as well,
My edits and obliterations have been highly
praised, especially by those whose words Redaction Man erased,
My mission is to catch the shit before it hits the
fan, reputations rest on me; I am Redaction Man.
------------------------------------------------------------
He
Wore A Yellow Hi-Viz
He
wore a yellow Hi-Viz and his boots had toes of steel,
He
was tall in the saddle as he sat behind the wheel,
Of
his shiny, yellow dumper as it glinted in the sun,
But
a virus hit his workforce so he furloughed every one.
Alone
he took upon himself construction of the site,
He
laboured in all weathers often late into the night,
He
shovelled sand and shingle and he mixed his own cement,
In
a draughty port-a-cabin all his lonely nights were spent.
He
dug the drains and trenches and the concrete did he mix,
He
laid the firm foundation and the breeze blocks and the bricks,
Thirty
years a builder; of skilful hand and eye;
He
shaped the beams and trusses from a fallen tree nearby,
He
wore a yellow Hi-Viz and a hat as hard as nails,
His
edifices yielded not to hurricanes or gales,
His
boots were wearing thin and revealed his aching feet,
But
never would he rest until his mission was complete.
He
tiled the rooves and garages and cut and glazed the glass,
He
wired the lights and power points with fittings made of brass,
In
every room he plastered all the ceilings and the walls,
Skirting
boards and architrave were fitted in the halls,
He
plumbed in all the basins and the bidet and the bath,
He
planted shrubs and flower beds beside each garden path,
Single-handedly
he worked and built the whole estate,
Each
home had a garden wall and a painted garden gate,
He
wore a yellow Hi-Viz and his beard grew long and grey,
He
lived on meals the friendly neighbours brought him every day,
The
Good Lord chose the moment to end his ceaseless toil,
The
hour he threw in the trowel and left his mortal coil,
There
above the window that looked out across the square,
He
fixed the final finials and slumped into a chair,
His
mission now completed; he knew his time was done,
He
wore a yellow Hi-Viz as he drove into the sun.
He
wore a yellow Hi-Viz and his boots had toes of steel,
He
was tall in the saddle as he sat behind the wheel,
Of
his shiny, yellow dumper as it glinted in the sun,
But
a virus hit his workforce so he furloughed every one.
--------------------------------
Whistleblower
I tried my hand at whistle-blowing; it didn't go too
well,
I found out the hard way that I never had a hope in
hell,
I had the bastards by the bollocks; I looked for
support,
Government-funded institutions always came up short;
Student
Loans let me down; Small Claims Court let me down,
They
spoke about me scathingly; only my friends kept faith in me,
Work
& Pensions let me down; Maria Miller let me down,
They
made me feel undignified; only my friends stood by my side,
Speaking out against injustice is natural to me,
To flag it up and call it out was my priority,
The State knows things about you that you're not
allowed to know,
And we all have a whistle that we're not allowed to
blow,
The
ICO let me down; Tribunals Service let me down;
They
made their minds up; wouldn't budge but my friends were not as quick to judge,
The
ICE let me down; ACAS let me down;
No
one offered any guide; only my friends stood by my side,
I tried to play by all the rules and do things by the
book,
But that's not easy when it changes every time you
look,
Maybe I was just naïve; maybe I was tricked;
The victor and the victim were so easy to predict.
Student
Loans let me down; Small Claims Court let me down,
They
spoke about me scathingly; only my friends kept faith in me,
Work
& Pensions let me down; Maria Miller let me down,
They
made me feel undignified; only my friends stood by my side,
The
ICO let me down; Tribunals Service let me down;
They
made their minds up; wouldn't budge but my friends were not as quick to judge,
The
ICE let me down; ACAS let me down;
No
one offered any guide; only my friends stood by my side,
Only
my friends stood by my side,
Only
my friends stood by my side,
Only
my friends stood by my side.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The Undreamable...
Believe the unbelievable;
conceive the inconceivable,
Retrieve the irretrievable,
do the unachievable,
Call the unavailable; grasp
the unassailable,
Know the inexplicable, pick
the inextricable,
Dispute the irrefutable,
refute the indisputable,
Daydream the undreamable, save the irredeemable,
Dis the undeniable, trust
the unreliable,
Reach the unattainable,
keep the unsustainable,
Bear the unsupportable,
post the unreportable,
Learn the undiscernible,
overturn the learnable,
Picture the invisible,
Split the indivisible,
Miss the unmistakable,
wobble the unshakable,
Damage the unbreakable,
mimic the unfakeable,
Work the unemployable, like
the unenjoyable,
Wreck the indestructible,
taint the incorruptible,
Stand the unendurable,
conquer the incurable,
Cry the inexpressible,
quell the irrepressible,
Value the deplorable,
search the unexplorable,
View the unforeseeable,
like the disagreeable,
Lose the unforgettable,
cherish the regrettable,
Broadcast the inaudible,
buy the unaffordable,
Sack the unimpeachable,
tutor the unteachable,
Thrill the unexcitable,
scribble the unwritable,
Sink the unsubmersible, Switch the irreversible,
Call out the unnameable,
vanquish the untameable,
Speak the unrepeatable,
beat the undefeatable,
Hold the unrestrainable,
get the unobtainable,
Swallow the undrinkable,
ponder the unthinkable,
Mount the insurmountable,
count the unaccountable,
Model the unwearable, fix
the unrepairable,
Dodge the unavertable,
injure the unhurtable,
Defend the indefensible;
spend the indispensable.
The Undreamable...
Ones and zeros, zeros and
ones,
Mothers and daughters,
fathers and sons;
Let technology lighten your
load;
Have your soul encrypted in
binary code.
The world-wide web is the
place to be seen;
Virtual stars of a virtual
screen,
Cyborg warriors; rugged and
mean;
Half-human,
half-machine.
Ones and zeros, zeros and
ones,
No more heroes, no more
guns,
No effects, no fixed abode,
But my soul's encrypted in
binary code.
It's a matter of time till
we all give in,
And have the telephone put
under our skin,
With the National Insurance
and National Health;
Numerical versions
of your self.
Ones and zeros, zeros and
ones,
No more humour, no more
puns,
It's de rigueur; it's a la
mode,
To have your soul encrypted
in binary code.
-------------------
Minister
Of Truth (Squeaky Clean)
Open my closet; you'll see that it's bare; you won't find any skeletons or secrets in there,
There's nothing suspicious and nothing that smells, so go and spit your venom at somebody else,
('Coz I'm)
Squeaky
clean; done nothing wrong, Squeaky clean and I have been all along,
Squeaky
clean, impediment-free; that is why you should be voting for me,
I don't drink and I don't smoke, I never made a sexist or a racist joke,
You might think I'm evil, you might think I'm sick, allege what you like but you won't make it stick,
('Coz I'm)
Squeaky
clean; done nothing wrong, Squeaky clean and I have been all along,
Squeaky
clean, don't believe what you hear; no leftist hack is gonna' wreck my career,
There's nothing suspicious in my history, so no one can accuse me of hypocrisy,
Don't bother digging into the vaults, 'coz I don't have any vices, imperfections or faults,
(And I'm)
Squeaky
clean; done nothing wrong, Squeaky clean and I have been all along,
Squeaky
clean, look me straight in the eye; anyone can see I'm a regular guy,
I wouldn't hurt you; I'm never to blame, I've never done nothing for which I feel shame,
Innocent virtue is my middle name; people that know me will all say the same,
(They'll say I'm)
Squeaky
clean; done nothing wrong, Squeaky clean and I have been all along,
Squeaky
clean, I always made it clear; I got nothing to hide; I got nothing to fear,
I've never been sanctioned; I've never been sacked, I've never done a freakish or unnatural act,
I've never liked violence and never watched porn; I've been a good person since the day I was born,
(Yes I'm)
Squeaky
clean; done nothing wrong, Squeaky clean and I have been all along,
Squeaky
clean, you can trust what I say; I've never made someone sign an NDA,
I never caused a riot or a breach of the peace, Never had a problem with the Police,
I've never been in court; never been to jail; tried cannabis once but I didn't inhale,
('Coz I'm)
Squeaky
clean; done nothing wrong, Squeaky clean and I have been all along,
Squeaky
clean, I'm an open book in a world with corruption wherever you look,
I'm beyond reproach, reputation intact; my integrity is a natural fact,
I've never been drunk and I've never been high, I'm the Minister of Truth so why would I lie?
(You know I'm)
Squeaky
clean; done nothing wrong, Squeaky clean and I have been all along,
Squeaky
clean, impediment-free; that's why everybody should be voting for me.
--------------------
Song For
Flo
What's the point in jumping if there are no hurdles?
What's the point in running if there is no race?
What's the point in winning if there is no trophy?
What's the point in hiding if you have no face?
What's the point in dancing if there is no music?
What's the point in singing if you have no voice?
What's the point in walking if there is no pathway?
What's the point in choosing if there is no choice?
What's the point in climbing if there is no mountain?
What's the point in hurting if there is no pain?
What's the point in swimming if there is no water?
What's the point in waiting if there is no train?
What's the point explaining if there is no reason?
What's the point campaigning if there is no cause?
What's the point in counting if there are no numbers?
What's the point in fighting if there are no wars?
What's the point in writing if there is no reader?
What's the point in judging if there is no crime?
What's the point in planning if there is no future?
What's the point in living if there is no time?
What's the point repairing if there's nothing broken?
What's the point in teaching if there are no schools?
What's the point in thinking if the words aren't spoken?
What's the point in cheating if there are no rules?
What's the point in giving if there's no one taking?
What's the point in barking if you have no bite?
What's the point in sleeping if you won't be waking?
What's the point of darkness if there is no light?
What's the point in moving if there is no motion?
What's the point in strumming if there are no strings?
What's the point in sailing if there is no ocean?
What's the point in flying if you have no wings?
***************
Three-Minute Movie
1. This is the soundtrack to the
three-minute movie that I see in my mind every time I close my eyes,
I see a girl smiling through the
opening titles; dancing with the sunbeams in a field of butterflies,
And then a cloud passes; blotting out
the sunshine, turning all the meadows to ugly shades of grey,
So the girl seeks shelter in a
strange and scary city where meadows are a memory a million miles away,
2. Another verse, another line; it's
a sure sign that we've reached the second half of the song from the soundtrack
to the 3-minute movie,
So how about some humour? We could
all use a laugh,
So, the stage is filled with clowns
with smiley, painted faces and certified nut-cases to keep us all enthralled,
Until we get the signal to go back to
our bases; to the wild and rocky places out of which we crawled,
3. We all know the theme to the
3-minute movie; the pictures may be different but the music is the same,
And we all know the ending of the
3-minute movie; everyone goes back to the place from where they came,
There's a chorus on the way; it might
be the last one ever that we all could sing together before the credits roll,
One more look into the lens; you have
acted 7 ages, you have turned all the pages and given up control,
Of the script and direction of the
3-minute movie,
You gave a great performance; you
played the starring role.
<><><><><><><>
Raz Razzle's
ESSENTIAL COOKIES
Songs from November - December 2021
Perpetual State Of Bliss
Twonk
Me And My Dad And The Saints
Party-Pooper
Universally Challenged
Exploitation Day
Period Of Uncertainty
The Day That I Was Racially Abused
Banana Split Infinitive
Britain Is Broken
Trampoline Of Fate
Another New Beginning...
...From The Beginning
Perpetual State of Bliss
I used to be unhappy and I used to
hurt inside,
I suffered pain and heartache and
damage to my pride,
I used to live in dread of the
dreadful day ahead,
Suicide's irrelevant when you're
already dead,
Then one day I told myself "you
can't go on this way,
Get your shit together or your life
will just decay",
Somehow I just hauled myself back
from the precipice,
And now I spend my days in this
perpetual state of bliss.
I can't quite put my finger on how
things turned out alright,
The mental transformation seemed to
happen overnight,
I suddenly forgot about the things
that I had feared,
My worries and my problems all just
upped and disappeared,
Like a butterfly emerging from its
winter chrysalis,
I flutter through my days in my
perpetual state of bliss,
Or like a plant in full control of
its photosynthesis,
I bask in the sun in my perpetual
state of bliss.
I wake up every morning feeling glad
to be alive,
I go out for a walk or sometimes for
a drive,
I listen to some music and I listen
to the news,
And I understand entirely why people
get the blues,
But I've no time for egoism, greed
or avarice,
Jealousy and envy are things that I
don't miss,
And happiness pours out of me from
every orifice,
This is my Nirvana; my perpetual
state of bliss.
People all around me seem to frown
the whole day through,
I often think there might be
something helpful I could do,
If I could share the secret of this
perfect inner peace,
Your problems and anxieties would
spontaneously cease,
Your life would have new meaning and
a different emphasis,
You won't need alcohol or cocaine or
cannabis,
You won't need sex or money or
consumer artifice,
To reach this earthly paradise; this
perpetual state of bliss,
Perpetual state of
bliss (etc.)
_______________________
Twonk
I've had
this idiosyncrasy since I was just a boy;
A hatred of
the things that I'm expected to enjoy,
Light
entertainment isn't popular with me,
I'd rather
watch a sunset and listen to the sea,
And every day they tell me how
fortunate I am,
To have GM potatoes and radioactive
lamb,
The radio
provides me with contemporary sounds,
That blur
into the tumult of a pack of baying hounds,
Music seems
intended for someone else's ears,
It
mesmerises people while it leaves me bored to tears,
And every day they tell me how
fortunate I am,
That I've got bread and butter and
marmalade or jam,
The internet
has put the planet at my fingertips,
But I don't
want my world to be a plate of microchips,
I never
browse because I know I won't like what I'll find,
I much
prefer to gaze out of the window of my mind,
And every day they tell me how
fortunate I am,
To have a broken hard drive and an
in-box full of spam.
++++++++++++++++++++
Me
and My Dad and the Saints
The
ultimate joy when I was a boy was to go with my Dad to the Dell,
I
felt I was free on the A33; a road that I came to know well,
The
walk to the ground; the lingering sound of the stadium filling with fans,
Eating
their fries and their crusty meat pies and drinking their beer out of cans,
I
picture the scene; the carpet of green; the players in red, white and black,
I
chill to the core when I think of the roar when Southampton were on the attack,
Beaten
again in the wind and the rain; we might have had our complaints,
But
echoes remain of Channon and Paine and the Saints.
We
all got excited whenever United came to perform on the coast,
Charlton
and Best, Kidd and the rest were the team that you'd want to see most,
Arsenal
and Leeds were sowing the seeds of the wonderful teams they became,
Greavsie
and Law and the great Bobby Moore were just some of the stars I could name,
Big
John McGrath, the big centre half; his shirt would be drenched with his blood,
I
picture the scene; the carpet of green turning to a meadow of mud,
Beaten
again in the wind and the rain; we might have had our complaints,
But
echoes remain of Channon and Paine and the Saints.
Back
in the day, Southampton; you'd say, were always a bit of a mess,
Never
on top but avoiding the drop was a palpable sign of
success,
Once
in a while, they turned on the style; inflicting a heavy defeat,
But
mostly they lost and were bullied and bossed by teams they expected to beat,
I
remember the ref pretend to be deaf as he ran to the Milton Road end,
Part
of the plan of the average fan was to humiliate and offend,
Beaten
again in the wind and the rain; we might have had our complaints,
But
echoes remain of Channon and Paine and the Saints,
Red,
white and black take me right back to the Saints,
Lost
in a haze; the halcyon days of the Saints,
The
fun that we had; me and my Dad and the Saints...
------------------------------
------------------------------------
______________________
The Party-Pooper
I am the party pooper; the one that didn't go
For Government-funded festiveness beneath the mistletoe,
I got an invitation but I felt I should decline
Tempted as I was by the mince pies and the wine,
I'm the party-pooper, I'm the
party-pooper,
I'm the party-pooper; I can see no
benefit in being called a hypocrite,
My first reaction was delight that those in Downing Street
Considered me included in the powerful elite,
But then I thought of all my friends in Christmas isolation
Following the guidelines of social separation,
I thought of all the old folk who wouldn't understand
Why their friends and relatives and visitors were banned,
And though the end of season bash appealed to me a lot,
I didn't sing or celebrate; I thought I'd better not.
I'm the party-pooper, I'm the
party-pooper,
I'm the party-pooper; I was gearing
up to go but my conscience told me no!
I'm the party-pooper.
......................
Universally Challenged
I'm universally challenged; I'm intellectually stretched,
In the chronicles of history my name will not be etched,
I'm sorry Mr. Paxman but I'm going to have to pass,
I ought to know the answer but my brain cells are too sparse.
Did it really happen or was it just a
dream?
Was I really captain of that great
Westminster team?
I took responsibility for that
record-breaking score,
(No team had ever notched up minus
fifty-five before).
I'm universally challenged; I'm intellectually stretched,
In the chronicles of history my name will not be etched,
I'm sorry Mr. Paxman but I'm going to have to pass,
The Oxford team were literally in a different class.
My intro was a nightmare I wish I could
forget;
"Hi I'm Raz from Basingstoke; I'm reading
the Gazette,
My basic education was fundamentally
flawed,
And I blagged my way to an arts degree by
academic fraud."
I'm universally challenged; I'm intellectually stretched,
In the chronicles of history my name will not be etched,
I'm sorry Mr. Paxman but I'm going to have to pass,
Your high-brow panel game has descended into farce.
I was ready; I was willing but very far
from able,
I'm crap at regnal numbers and the
periodic table,
Paxman was astonished at the things I
didn't know,
He said I was the thickest in the history
of the show,
I'm universally challenged; I'm intellectually stretched,
In the chronicles of history my name will not be etched,
I'm sorry Mr. Paxman but I'm going to have to pass,
I'm at my most coherent when I'm talking through my arse.
When I was a small boy, my teachers
always thought,
That I would never learn and that I could
not be taught,
Five whole decades later the truth has
come to light;
The evidence is clear; they were absolutely
right.
*************************
Exploitation
Day
Drink the milk of Mother Earth; see you
get your money's worth,
It's the time for merriment and mirth;
it's Exploitation Day!
Treat the gaffer like a slave; work them
into an early grave,
No one cares how you behave on
Exploitation Day.
Jewels
and precious minerals are scattered on the ground,
Fill
your wardrobe full of clothes to last you all year round,
Ransack, pillage and consume; Champagne,
truffles and perfume,
Lead your own consumer boom on
Exploitation Day!
Fill your fridge with fruits de mer and fish and other ocean fayre,
But leave the shit and plastic there;
it's Exploitation Day!
The
patron saint of shameless greed swings by on a sleigh,
So
forget the poor and the kids in need; it's Exploitation Day!
Mother Earth is a bit bereft; she says
there's been some kind of theft,
So just exploit what she's got left on
Exploitation Day!
You've been good the whole year through
while someone else exploited you,
But now your dreams will all come true;
it's Exploitation Day!
.................................................................
Period of Uncertainty
It's a period of
uncertainty; just like the previous,
But this time our adversary
is more devious,
It's a period of
uncertainty when all we know for sure,
It could be more uncertain
than the period before,
It's a period of uncertainty,
the pundits always say,
It could be this; it could
be that; it could go either way,
Some are looking forward
while some pause to reflect,
It's a period of
uncertainty; what did you expect?
It's a period of
uncertainty and some may find it strange,
To move ahead in leaps and
bounds while nothing seems to change,
It's a period of
uncertainty, or so I've been advised,
So anything could happen
now; I wouldn't be surprised,
It's a period of
uncertainty for this and every Nation,
A time for wild conjecture
and for random speculation,
Your guess is as good as
mine; you know as much as me,
It's a period of
uncertainty; we'll have to wait and see.
It's a period of
uncertainty so all we can do is hope;
That things don't turn out quite as bad as it says in your horoscope,
You can't rely on astrology
to light the way ahead,
The Wizard of Oz knew what
it was as Nostradamus said,
I read the runes and tea
leaves and gazed in my crystal ball,
But none of them offered me
any clue or sign at all,
The future is
unpredictable; I've said so all along,
It's a period of
uncertainty so everything could be wrong.
------------------------------
The day that I was racially abused
I hope this song won't be
misunderstood 'coz it'd break my heart if it did more harm than good
I have a memory that I
think should be diffused of the day that I was racially abused
I was living in a place
where I was a minority but where the wealthy people were the ones that looked
like me
the incident goes back some thirty years but the words will always
echo in my ears
I felt as though I'd been punched in the gut or like my oxygen had
been cut
I felt lost and confused on the day that I was racially abused
I was approached by a woman
in the middle of a market square who asked if I had any change to spare
I politely but decisively
refused so that was why I was racially abused
A thousand thoughts rushed through my head at the same time I felt
my race had been the crime
Of which I was accused on the day that I was racially abused
The words that were used
I'd rather not repeat but I'm not trying to say that it's not a one-way street
And It
hurt like hell to be spoken to that way so how would I cope if it happened
every day?
You might think racist jokes are harmless fun till you've been on
the end of one
You would not be amused if you were the one that was racially
abused
I hope this song won't be
misunderstood 'coz it'd break my heart if it did more harm than good
It only took two words to
leave me battered and bruised on the day that I was racially abused.
"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
The Banana
Split Infinitive
To be badly out of tune; to be absolutely over the
moon,
To be passionately green; to be blatantly obscene;
To be safely wrapped in your cocoon,
To be
bluntly negative; to begrudgingly forgive,
To
diligently follow; to innocently live; the banana split infinitive,
To break a sacred vow and be frank about it now,
To casually slaughter the sacrificial cow, then to
proudly take a bow,
To be
bluntly negative; to begrudgingly forgive,
To literally
pretend that we virtually live; the banana split infinitive,
To go boldly into space; to proudly represent the
human race,
To lovingly embrace and bravely interface and yet feel
strangely out of place,
To be
bluntly negative; to begrudgingly forgive,
To
diligently follow; to innocently live; the banana split infinitive,
To precariously perch on the wall; just about to
accidentally fall,
To lovingly embrace and bravely interface; to
courageously say bollocks to it all,
To be
bluntly negative; to begrudgingly forgive,
To
diligently follow; to innocently live; the banana split infinitive.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Britain is Broken
Britain is broken;
Britain is broke; its people divided; its leader a joke,
Plagued with
corruption, greed and mistrust, Britain is broken; Britain is bust,
Britain's got talent; Britain's got taste; much of it seems to be
going to waste,
Making commercials and pedalling stuff to hapless consumers with
more than enough,
Britain is broken;
Britain is broke; its people divided; its leader a joke,
Plagued with
corruption, greed and mistrust, Britain is broken; Britain is bust,
Welcome to Britain; don't worry yourselves;
You'll always find honey and milk on the shelves,
But brutal reality quickly obscures the image you saw in the glossy
brochures,
Britain is broken;
Britain is broke; its people divided; its leader a joke,
Plagued with
corruption, greed and mistrust, Britain is broken; Britain is bust,
Britain is constantly searching its soul; Britain is frightened of
losing control,
Britain is aching; Britain is hurt; people resent being treated
like dirt,
Britain is broken;
Britain is broke; its people divided; its leader a joke,
Plagued with
corruption, greed and mistrust, Britain is broken; Britain is bust.
__________________
The Trampoline of Fate
When the unrelenting
chainsaw of delusion cuts through the rotting trunk of consciousness,
And the rabid, barking
hellhound of confusion bites the bulging bollocks of excess,
Where the obstinate
rhinoceros of destiny yields to the relentless rule of force,
And the tarnished toilet
brushes of eternity fill the dirty dustbins of remorse,
Where the screwed-up
sweetie wrapper of rejection meets the rusty Coca-Cola can of care,
And the spat-out chewing
gum of disaffection meets the snotty tissue paper of despair,
Where the broken umbrella
of resentment is redundant in the thunderstorm of stress,
And the crowded
lobster-pots of discontentment line the oil-polluted beach of hopelessness,
Where the pliant plastic
duck of desperation meets the effervescent bubble bath of doom,
In the viper's nest of vile
vituperation and the moribund menagerie of gloom,
Where the cachinnating
jackals of derision meet the haemorrhoidal hooligans of hate,
And the devious devices of
division trample on the trampoline of fate.
When the litany of brutal
degradation permeates the fairy tales of youth,
And a lifetime of euphoric
celebration is thwarted by the offside flag of truth,
Where fiction and reality
meet head-on, where subversion subjugates the sublime,
Where the turkeys vote for
Christmas Armageddon in the all-consuming abattoir of time,
When the unrelenting
chainsaw of delusion cuts through the rotting trunk of consciousness,
And the rabid, barking
hellhound of confusion bites the bulging bollocks of excess.
________________
Another
New Beginning...
Another
scene; another take; a chance to make the same mistake,
An
even break; another new beginning,
Another
book; a brand new page; a second look; an empty stage,
A
future age; another new beginning,
Another
road; a better route; a second bite of a different fruit;
A
second chance; another new beginning,
A
debutant; a new recruit; a newly patched-up parachute,
A
brand new suit; another new beginning,
Another
inch; another mile; a new departure; different style;
A
new profile; another new beginning,
A
second wind; a late reprieve; a new objective to achieve,
A
second chance; another new beginning,
Brand
new woman; brand new man; Cinderella; Peter Pan,
A
different plan, another new beginning,
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...From
The Beginning
I'm
going back to basics; wiping clean the slate,
Correcting
the mistakes I made; thank God it's not too late,
This
time I'll walk the high wire; you can be the clown,
I'm
starting at the bottom; working up instead of down,
Now
we're sucking diesel, now we're cooking with gas,
Now
we're in the pound seats, now we're kickin' ass,
We've
heard the views of both sides but we disagree with both,
This
time we're putting people before economic growth,
From
the beginning...
I'm
winding back the tape machine; taking it from the top,
Working
my way back in time though I'm not sure where I'll stop,
The
genie's back inside the lamp, as far as I can tell,
The
lid's been screwed on tight this time and superglued as well,
Now
we're sucking diesel, now we're cooking with gas,
Now
we're in the pound seats, now we're kickin' ass,
Now
we've seen the future; now it all makes sense,
It's
back to the drawing board; we're going to recommence,
From
the beginning...
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
MORE SONGS: Unrecorded, Unreleased or Unloved
Driverless Car (from 'Star Child' SCDR 143, 2017)
Tebbit (from 'Star Child' SCDR 143, 2017)
Watchdog (from 'Star Child' SCDR 143, 2017)
Philistine (from the LP 'Outsider Art' SCOLP
004, 2019)
Inspiration Train (omitted from 'Lyrical Lockdown' due
to its pompous turgidity)
We Worry (omitted from 'Lyrical Lockdown' due
to its cod reggae limpness)
MORE POEMS & VERSE 2018 - 2021
Bobby the Bouncer
No Opinion
Changing My Opinion
Charlemagne Prize
Esquisses Lisses
Houseman's Tale
His Id is at Odds with His Ego
Mental Energy
Mr. Q & Mr. O
Navel-Gazing Blues
(Banish the) Offside Rule
On the Passing of the Duke
Selfie
Terrifying Dream
Silver Bullet
The Shit Machine
The Half-Glaswegian Huguenot
These Men were My Heroes too
Three Score Years and Ten
Tugendhat
Uninvited Guest
Were My Parents Racists?
My Eternal Gratitude
Driverless Car
I woke up with a fever in the middle of the night,
As though a voice had told me that something wasn't right,
So I looked into the future but I didn't have to look too far;
Coming over the horizon was the driverless car.
All vehicles will be driverless by 2021,
According to an article that I read in the Sun,
Our children won't need driving skills or learn the Highway Code,
And they'll never know the romance of being on the road,
A driver is a nuisance a computer doesn't need,
To take the right direction or moderate its speed,
We think we're being driven to a kind of Shangri-La,
But we're trading in our freedom for the driverless car.
When I climbed into my vehicle I was greeted by a voice,
That told me to get comfortable and offered me a choice;
I could either browse the Internet or watch a TV show,
While a robot took me to a place I didn't want to go.
One cold and frosty morning in the mid-December mirk,
A four-wheeled computer took me into work,
I used to take the B road that passes by the brook,
But the motorway was the only route the bastard ever took.
You won't need to concentrate but of course you won't get bored,
'Coz they'll show you lots of adverts for things you can't afford,
On the in-car entertainment, I heard somebody say;
Your liberty and anonymity are a tiny price to pay.
'Coz pollution and congestion are things of the past,
And the memory of the golden age is disappearing fast,
Those holidays with Mum & Dad, blah-blah-fucking-blah,
We forfeited our freedom for the driverless car.
And when this awful vision to me had been revealed,
I drove out to the countryside and parked up by a field,
And I looked across the landscape at all that went before,
And I knew the future wouldn't let me do this anymore.
<><><><><><><><>
Tebbit
(Like Tebbit Said)
I'm
gonna' do like Tebbit said; I'm getting on my bike,
Strap
a guitar on my back and head for the open mic,
I'm
gonna' get me an early slot that isn't long enough,
Then
spend three hours listening to other peoples' stuff.
The open mic was buzzin' with
talent from across the town,
People had come from miles around to lay their music
down,
First was a lad from Brighton Hill; I didn't catch his
name,
He sang two songs I couldn't tell apart, then another
one just the same.
Next was a lass from Popley,
her name was Anne-Marie,
She didn't have no guitar so
she sang to an MP3,
She had all the talent of a girl of half her age,
And she was gone from the venue before the next act took
the stage.
When my turn came around I launched into my set,
With a song I failed to remember and one I hadn't
finished yet,
A scout from Sony Music was sitting at the front,
But he did himself no favours when he said I was the new
James Blunt.
I'm
gonna' do like Tebbit said; I'm getting on my bike,
Strap
a guitar on my back and head for the open mic,
I'm
gonna' get me an early slot that isn't long enough,
Then
spend three hours listening to other peoples' stuff.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Watchdog
Who's going to lead
the leaders? Who's going to breed the brood?
Who's going to feed
the feeders when there isn't any food?
Who's going to save
the lifeguard when he gets in too deep?
Who's going to guard
the guard dog when the watchdog falls asleep?
Who reimburses the
bursar when he's out of purse?
Who amuses the
jester? Who nurses the nurse?
Who's going to teach
the teachers to make that giant leap?
Who's going to guard
the guard dog when the watchdog falls asleep?
Who's going to build
the buildings when the builder's gone to lunch?
Who's going to box
the boxer when he's lost his sucker-punch?
Who's going to guide
the guide dog when the hill becomes too steep?
Who's going to guard
the guard dog when the watchdog falls asleep?
Who's going to cross
the chasm when the bridges have been burned?
Who's going to hear
the hearing when the courtroom is adjourned?
Who's going to keep
the keeper when he's too old to keep?
Who's going to guard
the guard dog when the watchdog falls asleep?
??????????????????????????????????????????????
Philistine
I am no culture vulture (or any kind of bird);
I don't
like works of literature; I find them all absurd,
I've
never known a poet that got inside my head,
I've
never read a single thing I wish that I had said,
I
am a philistine, I am a philistine,
I
am a klutz; no ifs or buts, I am a philistine,
I am no fan of opera; I find it such a bore,
And each one is more boring than the one I heard
before,
I never liked the ballet; I found it anodyne,
I much preferred the Palais;
I am a philistine.
I
am a couch potato with square and bleary eyes,
The
TV is my teacher; it never tells me lies.
I
am a philistine, I am a philistine,
I
wear the pants of ignorance; I am a philistine.
I am neither 'bon viveur' nor 'connoisseur
of wine',
Epicureans concur; I am a philistine.
I've
never seen a painting that moved me quite to tears,
I've
never met an artist that transmitted clear ideas,
No sculpture, installation or interior design,
Ever held my fascination; I am a philistine.
Art
is over-rated; it's
all a stupid game,
No
photograph or image ever set my heart aflame,
No
artefact or relic has ever been my shrine,
I idolise
Tom Sellick; I am a philistine.
I cannot stand the cinema; I haven't been for years,
Initial interest in the plot just ups and
disappears,
Music is the food of love; to me this is a myth,
Recommend me singers; I'll dispense with them forthwith,
Take me to a musical or to a Shakespeare play,
I'd
rather let a jigsaw puzzle occupy my day,
Who cares if I put cola in my Cabernet Sauvignon?
Who cares if I put ketchup on my boeuf
bourguignon?
I
am a philistine, I am a philistine, I am a philistine, I
am a philistine,
I
wear the pants of ignorance; I am a philistine.
I
have no erudition to further or refine,
That
is my position; I am a philistine.
They
say I have no soul or spleen, no principles or spine?
All
of this can only mean I am a philistine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Inspiration Train
I'm standing on the platform of Imagination Station, waiting for
the inspiration train,
I've got a one-way ticket to an unknown destination; I'm waiting
for the inspiration train.
When there's nothing in my brain but decaying vegetation,
The inspiration train comes to save the situation,
In rapt anticipation, I'm waiting for the inspiration train.
Passenger announcement; important information; waiting for the
inspiration train,
The service is delayed at Micheldever Station; I'm waiting for the
inspiration train,
I'm drowning in a vortex of anger and frustration,
My mind and my body need a virtual vacation,
Such a strange sensation; waiting for the inspiration train.
Please don't keep me waiting in suspended animation; waiting for
the inspiration train,
Please don't leave me desolate in splendid isolation, waiting for
the inspiration train,
Inspiration train; please do not forsake me,
I'm happy just to be anywhere you take me,
Mediocrity will break me, inspiration train.
Inspiration train, please do not neglect me, waiting for the
inspiration train,
You can't imagine how your absence would affect me, waiting for the
inspiration train,
A disembodied voice brings the news that I've been dreading,
Engineering works between Mortimer and Reading,
Now I really don't know where I'm heading; inspiration train.
I'm waiting for my favoured means of mental transportation; waiting
for the inspiration train,
My head needs a holiday and total transformation; waiting for the
inspiration train,
Get me out of here, where no human hand can hurt me,
Where no one can sell me things, exploit me or convert me,
I don't know what I'll do if you desert me, inspiration train,
You are my saviour and salvation; inspiration train.
~~~~~~~~~~~
We Worry
We worry that the
money won't go far and we worry that the luck won't last,
We worry what is
over the horizon and we worry 'bout what happened in the past,
We worry 'bout the
climate and the oceans and we worry 'bout tyranny and war,
We worry for the
children of the third world and we worry 'bout the people next door,
We worry when the seas get rough and we worry when the going gets
tough,
We worry that we're worrying too much and we worry we're not
worrying enough.
We worry for the
people of China; we worry for the people of Japan,
We worry for the
future generations and we worry for the future of man,
We worry that the
news is fake and we worry that the news is true,
We worry the
mistakes that we make cancel out the good that we do.
We worry when the seas get rough and we worry when the going gets
tough,
We worry that we're worrying too much and we worry we're not
worrying enough.
We worry that we
won't stay in and we're worried that we won't come out,
We worry what we get
if we win isn't worth worrying about,
We worry when we get
to the top and we worry that the world's in decline,
We worry that the
rain won't stop and we're worried that the sun will never shine,
We worry when the seas get rough and we worry when the going gets
tough,
We worry that we're worrying too much and we worry we're not
worrying enough.
We worry that we're
stood on the frontline and we worry if we're getting out of touch,
We worry that we're
gonna' get side-lined by things that don't matter very much,
We worry 'bout the
tiger and the rhino and the birds and the fish and the bees,
We worry that we're
following the dodo; vanishing along with the trees,
We worry when the seas get rough and we worry when the going gets
tough,
We worry that we're worrying too much and we worry we're not
worrying enough.
---------------------------------------------------------
Bobby the Bouncer
Bobby was a
bouncer; he wore the appropriate suit,
For grabbing
people round the neck and laying in the boot,
Bobby was a
bouncer; it helped to pay the bills,
He might
have been a diplomat but he lacked the social skills,
Bobby didn't smoke or drink and had
no kind of vice,
Violence was the only thing that he
described as 'nice',
Those that knew him said he was as
gentle as a lamb,
But everyone knew his catchphrase:
'Do you know who I am?'
Bobby went
for an interview with the Acme Security Co.,
They put him
in a hypothetical confrontation scenario,
He said 'I'd
nut the bastard and smack 'im in the gob,
And the
interviewer shook his hand and said: 'You've got the job'.
Bobby was a simple soul and he liked
his beans on toast,
But kicking people in the head was
what he liked the most,
To be a thug had been his goal since
he was in his pram,
Back in the day, you heard him say:
'Do you know who I am?'
Bobby was a
bouncer; he supervised the queue,
At the
nightclub known as Noah's Ark where they went in two by two,
His black
bow tie was always straight and he kept himself in trim,
'Coz he
thought the people in the queue had come to look at him,
Bobby took no nonsense; he was always
firm but fair,
Harmony was something, for which he didn't
care,
You might have been a celebrity; he
didn't give a damn,
He asserted his own identity; 'Do you
know who I am?'
~~~~~~~~~~~
Changing My Opinion
I'm changing my opinion; I've had a change of heart,
How naïve and green I was to think that from the start!
Investing all that passion in a thing that proved a sham!
What a credulous and shallow individual I am!
I'm changing my
opinion; I've had a change of heart,
How naïve and green
I was to think that from the start!
I'm changing my opinion; I'm happy to report,
I read what other people said and gave it lots of thought,
I watched a documentary when someone shared a link,
Now I see the opposite of what I used to think.
I'm changing my
opinion; persuasion has prevailed,
My mental train of
consciousness was totally derailed,
I'm changing my opinion; I never thought I would,
But I just echoed clever shit because it sounded good,
And now I see where I went wrong; I want to make amends,
Now I have my own ideas that I got from my friends.
I'm changing my
opinion; I never thought I would,
But I just echoed
clever shit because it sounded good,
I'm changing my opinion; I wasn't thinking straight,
And there were other factors that I did not contemplate,
I now renounce and dispossess the things I used to say,
So please ignore the comments that I made the other day.
I'm changing my
opinion; I've had a change of heart,
How naïve and green
I was to think that from the start!
I'm changing my
opinion; I never thought I would,
But I just echoed
clever shit because it sounded good.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
No Opinion
I feel guilty about
having no opinion,
Saying nothing seems
to be a crime,
But I've searched
inside my head for something no one has yet said,
On the subject of
this Royal pantomime,
I sometimes think
they all deserve each other,
And helplessly I
watch the mighty fall,
Sometimes I feel
sympathy for certain individuals,
And other times feel
sorry for them all.
Sorry I did not
react with an angry face or a yelp!
But having no
opinion is the best way I can help.
I was just about to
like your post and join your noble cause;
When something took
a hold of me; forcing me to pause,
Your argument was
flawless and your reasoning was clever,
But I reserve the
right to make no judgment whatsoever.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Charlemagne
Prize
Give me the Charlemagne Prize! Put me in the prize-winning circle,
Picture me there with Churchill and Blair, with Kissinger,
Clinton and Merkel,
Give me the Charlemagne Prize; I want to be one of the
greats,
For leading my Nation toward integration; a great
federation of States,
I may be a modest outsider; to that I would freely admit,
But I don't want an Oscar; I don't want a BAFTA, a MOBO, a
GRAMMY or BRIT,
I don't want a Nobel laureate, it's not what I value or
covet,
I only have eyes for the ultimate prize and if I were to
win I would love it.
To go to the city of Aachen is the dream I have dreamt for
so long,
It can't be denied; I'd be bursting with pride when the
President pinned on the gong.
Give me the Charlemagne Prize for so gallantly holding my
nerve,
Nominate me for the coveted 'Prix' that you know I so
richly deserve,
Give me the Charlemagne Prize with all the perfunctory
jazz,
What a surprise; the Charlemagne Prize is this year awarded
to Raz!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Save Your Esquisses for
Me (Esquisses Lisses)
There's
a fly in my ointment; a wasp in my air-space,
It's
a huge disappointment; an open and shit case,
I'm
climbing a steep hill; I'm caught in the rat race,
I'm
back on the treadmill; I'm not in a good place,
I
feel like a spent force; I'm frightened of people,
I'm
flogging a dead horse and wading through treacle,
I'm
tired of the rat race, I move at the wrong pace,
I
stand on a cliff face; I'm not in a good place.
This is the chorus to the song you never
wrote,
The words were never sung and lodged
forever in your throat,
This is the melody that no one ever heard;
The product of the miracle
that never quite occurred.
This is the script for the role you never
played,
An out-take from the screenplay for the
film you never made,
This is the canvas for the sketch you never
drew;
The portrait of the nobody
that no one ever knew.
....................................................................
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Houseman's Tale
Once upon a time I had a girlfriend, who lived in a village not
far,
Her home was set adjacent to the home of a football star,
It all seemed quite surreal; I thought it quite bizarre
That through the kitchen window I could watch him wash his car,
His name was Peter Houseman; he played out on the wing,
He lived in a house in Oakley; that seemed a funny thing.
The neighbours all respected him and all knew him by name,
He was known to act as referee for a local football game,
He opened fetes and garden shows; his free time was his gift,
He served the whole community, in which his family lived,
We saw him on the telly; he was a superstar,
And through a kitchen window I watched him wash his car.
A year went by and Peter's family moved to Oxfordshire,
As his transfer there from Chelsea did apparently require,
Three years on, Peter and his wife and two close friends,
Upon the Oxford-Witney road did meet untimely ends.
Houseman was just 31 when the Good Lord took his soul,
When a drunken toff in a Maserati span out of control,
They in their Avenger ploughed into the vehicle's side,
Six young kids were orphaned; all four parents died.
The Maserati's driver was called Bartholomew;
(Previous road convictions though only 22),
His father was a landed gent, who held the CBE,
And served the City of Westminster as Conservative MP,
No contrition did they show; no pain, remorse or tears,
And even the killer's father outlived Houseman 30 years.
The trial was in St. Albans and perceived a great success,
By those who thought it best to keep the story from the press,
A doctor who'd examined Smith reported he was drunk;
"He couldn't stand up properly; his breath of liquor stunk".
Smith's defending counsel thought the diagnosis flawed,
"Concussion was the reason that the Doctor had ignored,
It wasn't scientific to have smelt it on his breath,
So alcohol could not have been the cause of Houseman's death."
Death by dangerous driving was returned on all four counts,
But drink was not detected in significant amounts,
The Judge in summing up, called Smith a 'maniac',
"Ten years must you wait until you get your licence back!"
There also was a fine of £4,000 to pay,
Presumably his father would have paid it straight away.
The mystery of such leniency never was explained,
And no one knows the story of the children that remained,
Smith began a Flying School; he runs it to this day,
In the Maidenhead constituency of Theresa May,
You needn't be a Chelsea fan to wonder at this tale,
Of how our justice system could so evidently fail.
We live in an age when a footballer is pilloried for a crime,
He may not have committed or already served his time;
Trial by social media will force him out of town,
Because someone with a grudge believes the Law has let them down,
So let's embrace this modern trend for righting ancient wrongs;
Put Peter Houseman's killer in a cell where he belongs.
Peter is remembered in the village where he lived,
He opened fetes and garden shows; his free time was his gift,
We saw him on the telly; he was a superstar,
And through the kitchen window I watched him wash his car.
---------------------
His
Id Is At Odds With His Ego...
Cane put his cards on the table; Abel used his right
to abstain,
Wallace voted to leave while Gromit preferred to
remain,
Benson voted for Corbyn, Hedges voted for May,
Lock said 'yes', stock said 'no' and barrel didn't
care either way.
Sodom insists they were lying; Gomorrah asserts it
was true,
Bubble says we're heading for trouble; Squeak takes
a differing view,
Black is in favour of day; Decker says it ought to
be night,
Batman says that it's wrong; Robin believes that
it's right.
I
looked at myself in the mirror; the mirror looked back at me,
I
said we should all take a look at ourselves but the mirror didn't seem to
agree,
Sometimes
he wishes he didn't, sometimes he's glad that he did,
Coz
his id is at odds with his ego and his ego's at odds with his id.
Rosencrantz accepted, Guildenstern declined,
Hook said 'yes', Line said 'no' and Sinker couldn't
make up his mind,
Eric had faith in youth, Ernie believed otherwise,
Innocence affirmed it was telling the truth,
Experience said it was lies.
Marie differed with Donny; Bonnie remonstrated with
Clyde,
Jekyll did nothing but heckle when Hyde took the
opposite side,
Tate carved a notch in his cane while Lyle wore his
heart on his sleeve,
Marks thought it best to remain while Spencer
decided to leave.
Allegedly Laurel & Hardy didn't agree about
much,
The same could be said about Ginger & Fred and
neither did Starsky & Hutch,
Some say 'you only live twice'; some say they only
vote once,
Some of us think politicians are nice; the rest of
us think they are not.
[-][-][-][-][-]
Mental
Energy
A surge of mental energy wells up inside my brain,
It's
4:35 a.m., here we go again,
Memories come thick and fast and thoughts both
broad and deep,
Ensure that when the levee breaks, there is no
further sleep,
After some ablutions I make a cup of tea,
And all the while my head is charged with mental
energy,
Shall I put the TV on; perhaps the radio?
Maybe play a record? The voice inside says 'No!'
The surge of mental energy is powerful and strong,
And demands to be expressed in a poem or a song,
The surge of mental energy is vast and convoluted,
It cannot be disputed, muted or diluted,
Disappointments, misdemeanours, drawn from every
age,
Filter through the word machine and out onto the
page,
Some are cloaked in mystery; some are plain and
blunt,
Some are hanging upside-down and some are back to
front,
The surge of mental energy goes into overdrive,
Friends that we lost years ago; in here are still
alive,
From a secret stash of mental trash from somewhere
in my mind,
Come words of love and comfort to the ones they
left behind,
Thus the mental energy; made manifest in ink,
Reveals the naked truth about the crazy shit we
think,
And when the words are written; it is possible to
see,
That
thoughts are sometimes not the things we think that they ought to be.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Mr. Q and Mr. O
Mr. Q was God-like;
he gave his only son incalculable riches and investments by the ton,
He taught him how to
ride a horse and how to fire a gun; prepared him for an easy life; a future
filled with fun.
Mr. O was like his
dad; a man of wealth and taste; literature and art among the interests he
embraced,
And Mr. O, just like
his dad, conceived a legacy; to honour his beneficence through all eternity.
Mr. Q pursued a plan
to plant a copse of trees upon the hill,
Beside the road so
everybody sees his label on the land like a terrestrial tattoo;
A wood designed and
nurtured to ascribe the letter Q.
Mr. O, just like his
dad, sought immortality so he devised his own scheme to preserve his memory,
There beneath his
father's copse upon the rolling down, upon the open countryside would he create
a town.
Mr. O, just like his
dad, was arrogant and vain;
The citadel that he
envisaged spread across the plain incorporates his signature so history will
know;
That the zero that
conceived it was a twat called Mr. O.
********************
Navel-Gazing
Blues
I'm gazing at my navel (as I do every day),
As though expecting it has something interesting to
say,
And if I choose to cloud my mind in a psychotropic
haze,
My navel is the perfect thing on which to fix my gaze.
Your navel was a deal between the midwife and your Mum,
A perfect indentation in the middle of your tum,
They put it there expressly, as though they always
knew,
You'd stare at it whenever you had fuck-all else to do.
I'm gazing at my navel and contemplating stuff,
A navel that, for thirty years, accumulated fluff,
Until a surgeon's scalpel shaped its new geography,
A navel scarred and scarified by navel
history.
No more navel pleasantries! The jokes are stale and
old,
No more navel gags about the
seamen it can hold,
Some may gaze out into space while some gaze at their
shoes,
It looks as though I've got a case of the navel-gazing
blues.
I'm gazing at a navel that has known two different
forms,
But nonetheless has served me through the turbulence
and storms,
It's more than just a navel; it's an oracle and font,
Ask it any question; say anything you want,
I'm gazing at my navel; it gives me quite a buzz,
Just to do the very thing a navel-gazer does,
A thought arrives as I survey my surgeon's master cuts,
Without our navels we would all be staring at our guts.
I'm gazing at my navel; it's not a pretty sight,
But still I go on gazing at it morning, noon and night,
Perhaps I should download one - to gaze at on my phone?
Someone else's navel might serve better than my own,
For gazing at intently while the thoughts go in and
out,
Your navel is a reservoir of things to think about,
It is a cornucopia; bursting at the seams,
Gaze into it; you will picture all your hopes and
dreams.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
(Banish the) Offside Rule
Banish the offside
rule! You know it is a must! Or at the very least it should be openly
discussed,
Think of the
advantages; I'll list them here below and I promise to convince you that the
stupid rule should go.
Have you never
wondered how the game would really
be, without the need for linesmen or another referee?
A third of the
decisions that a referee must make, would not
need to be made so he could not make
a mistake.
Have you ever
wondered why you instantly resist; and conjure up a bogeyman you can't prove to
exist?
Upon the
opposition's line you think that he will play? To get the ball to there is what
a team does anyway.
What would be
the point to have a player on the line? Your outfield players then reduced
effectively to nine?
Surely, other
tactics would be tested and deployed; the old goal-hanger myth might then be
finally destroyed.
Have you ever
wondered if the offside rule should go? Imagine how much easier a football
match would flow,
Have you never
thought of how the game could be improved, if many key decisions could be
suddenly removed?
The pressure on
the referee to make that vital call, could be relieved immensely if there were
no rule at all,
VAR could be
retained; infringements still reviewed, but dumping this archaic law seems
positively shrewd.
Here, I'll
interject (to show how serious I am), a football allegory á la Jonathan
Van-Tam,
Think of fouls
and offsides and decisions of the sort, as bugs and colds and viruses hampering
our sport,
They always
gave us problems to differing degrees; they all rely on judgments that are made
by referees,
So they came up
with a vaccine and they called it VAR; although it worked ok, it made the
referee the star.
But VAR turned
out to be a valuable tool; it told us quite emphatically "The problem is the
rule!"
But the pundits
didn't notice; players and fans the same; the problem was the virus but the
vaccine got the blame,
With every
tight decision that they came to analyse, the answer stared them in the face
though none would realise,
Unlike a bug or
virus or a fever or a cough; to rid the game of this disease; you simply turn
it off.
The rule came
into football from a very different game; (rugby we might call it now by any
other name),
In rugby, the
offside rule is essential to its form but in soccer, all it ever did was cause
a mighty storm,
Think of all
the matches that you played in or you saw; without that bad decision, you'd at
least have forced a draw?
The argument
for scrapping it is logical and strong; a decision that need not be made is one
that can't be wrong.
Think of all
the matches where the poorer team prevailed; the losing side will say it was
the referee that failed,
The offside
rule has always got on everybody's nerves; does anybody really know the purpose
that it serves?
Does a player
or a fan, a manager or crowd, want to stand around until a goal is disallowed?
I point you to
the narrative I've followed all along; a decision that need not be made is one
that can't be wrong.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
On
the passing of the Duke
I'm writing up an obit for the Duke of Edinburgh,
(I must admit my research hasn't been exactly thorough),
Apparently the Duke was born in 1921,
The lives of both my parents had also just begun,
We lost my mum in '93; my dad went in '05,
He'd be nearing 101 if he'd still been alive,
Suffice to say the Duke was lucky to have lived that long,
Shame he didn't get to hear the new Ed Sheeran song.
They loved him in the west; they loved him in the east,
Even if the latter was the place they loved him least,
They loved him in the north; they loved him in the south,
Even though his foot was nearly always in
his mouth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Selfie
Can I have a selfie? I'll make it really quick,
My camera's primed and ready and I've got it on a stick,
Can I have a selfie? I'd be so very proud,
And I will be the envy of the Instagram in-crowd,
To ask you for an autograph would be a grave mistake,
Without authentic provenance they'd say it was a fake,
Your public profile will be raised; I almost guarantee,
If you were in a photograph; standing next to me.
So can I have a selfie? It's not a lot to ask,
I'll stand a yard away from you and even wear a mask,
Can I have a selfie? I hate to be a pain,
But I would love to pose beside 'What was your name
again?'
-------------------------------
Terrifying Dream
They're holding a satanic mass in
Quentin Wallop's Wood,
I saw Maria Miller's face beneath a
velvet hood,
A sacrifice was offered up; I thought
I heard a scream,
But fortunately this was just a
terrifying dream.
__________________________
Silver Bullet
I have
the silver bullet, I hold the golden key
To the magic
panacea that could save humanity,
I keep
it in a plastic bag, inside a cardboard box,
And
stash it in a chest of drawers among some woollen socks,
The
other day I dug it out; reviewing it anew,
I
thought of all the noble deeds that it would let me do;
All the
wars could be resolved and all the children fed,
Never
would humanity be forced to live in dread,
Of
nuclear catastrophe or chemical attack,
The
ice-caps could re-constitute; the trees could all grow back,
And all
of this could happen if the secret were revealed,
60
years the universal cure has been concealed,
But
then I thought "What right have I to mess and interfere?
Maybe
going public isn't such a good idea?
Maybe
this could prove to be more trouble than it's worth
Just to
see that harmony is spread across the Earth?"
I put
it back into its bag and then the cardboard box,
And I
stuffed it back into the drawer among the woollen socks.
........................................................................
The Shit Machine
Capitalism is an awkward word to put in a piece of verse,
And economic enterprise is even fucking worse,
So let's not be ambiguous; you all know what I mean,
When I talk about the thing I call the shit machine.
The shit machine works like a clock with countless moving parts,
It yields financial benefits and culture and the arts,
And once it is in motion; it is everybody's friend,
We believe the shit machine will serve us to the end.
All the cogs are synchronised and each one has a role,
To move in perpetuity; its designated goal,
Sustainable development and unrestricted growth;
We all love the shit machine because it offers both.
Aspects of the shit machine that everybody hates,
Like what it pumps into the air and where it defecates,
Polar ice-caps melting; forests being burned,
These are not priorities as far as we're concerned.
Some will sell their heart and soul or sacrifice their lives;
Happy in the knowledge that the shit machine survives,
And though we know the planet can't accommodate our waste,
We also know the shit machine can never be replaced.
So, when the little cogs get clogged and cannot interlock,
Bigger wheels must take the strain and help maintain the clock,
Small cogs are expendable; (most of them in fact),
What matters is the shit machine; it must remain intact.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Half-Glaswegian Huguenot
(The Anglo-Saxon Song)
Our landscape
has been scarred by a billion human hands, through battles and invasions and
the struggles for these lands,
So how is
Anglo-Saxon culture said to have prevailed where the Romans and the Vikings and
the Norman conquests failed?
The answer is
that Anglo-Saxon culture is a myth; a label of convenience that we've been
branded with,
We are not a
race; we are a melting pot of breeds; the Anglo-Saxon label is a tag that no
one needs.
My Father
always claimed that his roots were Huguenot; we fled from persecution three
hundred years ago,
My Mother left
her Glasgow home to make a better life; in Essex did the Huguenot meet his wee
Glaswegian wife,
My Father
joined the forces; he flew a flying boat; he was one of those that risked their
lives so you could have your vote,
He was under
no illusion that defending Britain's shores; he was acting in the interest of
the Anglo-Saxon cause,
In the land of
the Anglo-Saxons, they do things their own way, if it isn't to our liking; we
are not obliged to stay,
In the land of
the Anglo-Saxons; the green Jerusalem, they don't integrate with us; we
integrate with them!
The land of
the Anglo-Saxons is a wholly unholy place; I tried to live elsewhere but this
forever is my base
My hair was black
and curly; I had a Mediterranean face, but everywhere, they said that
Anglo-Saxon was my race.
Like a 21st
Century Romulus; of origin unknown, raised by a friendly pack of wolves as
though I were their own,
I find myself
identified as someone who is thought to support the very thing against which he
has always fought.
My Mum and Dad
were Tories; to them I was a red ('as well as many other things' my parents
might have said),
The
Anglo-Saxon roundabout took them for a ride on balsa wood white elephants until
the day they died.
In the land of
the Anglo-Saxons, a soul can never rest, there's always something here to make
you angry or depressed,
In the land of
the Anglo-Saxons, they put their people first and if you go against them, you
are sure to come off worst,
In the land of
the Anglo-Saxons; remember, you're a guest; don't fill your head with fantasies
that they'll be dispossessed,
The land of
milk and honey overflows with private money but the milk has gone all curdled
and the honey's gone all runny.
The land of
the Anglo-Saxons made the Beatles and the Stones but now it's all technology;
telephones and drones,
Once this was
a haven for the helpless refugee but now it's like a fortress built around its
Monarchy,
But why would
anybody choose to bite the hand that's fed successive generations from its
basketful of bread?
The
Anglo-Saxon ideal is anathema to me but the half-Glaswegian Huguenot observes
neutrality.
In the land of
the Anglo-Saxons, everyone's right-wing; racist slurs pervade the songs their
rugby fans all sing,
A culture of
intimidation forged by the elite; political opponents are murdered in the
street,
Those that
claim they're lied to are the ones that tell the lies; no one will be sorry
when this monoculture dies,
In the land of
the Anglo-Saxons; the green Jerusalem, the half-Glaswegian Huguenot has washed
his hands of them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
These men were my
heroes too
Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye, Dobie Gray and George McCrae,
Billy Preston, Bobby Bland, Kool & the Gang and the Fatback
Band,
Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Bob Marley, Lee 'Scratch' Perry,
They may have meant the world to you but these men were my heroes
too.
Jazzy B and Soul 2 Soul, Gil Scott Heron, Nat King Cole,
Buster, Dennis Alcapone, Sly (& the Family Stone),
Billy Paul and Barry White, Bill Withers and Frederick Knight,
They may have meant the world to you but these men were my heroes
too.
Chairmen of the Board and the Commodores, Eddie Harris, Ronnie
Laws,
The Bar-Kays and the O'Jays, Quincy Jones and Isaac Hayes,
Otis Redding, Solomon Burke, Miles Davis, Roland Kirk,
They may have meant the world to you but these men were my heroes
too.
Fats Domino, Chubby Checker, Nicky Thomas, Desmond Dekker,
Mighty Sparrow, Byron Lee, Sonny Terry & Brownie McGee,
Dillinger and Trinity, John Lee Hooker, Booker T,
They may have meant the world to you but these men were my heroes
too.
Funkadelic, Maze and Slave, Brothers Johnson, Sam & Dave,
Carlos Santana, Johnny Guitar, Percy Sledge and Edwin Starr,
Eddie Floyd and Eddie Kendricks, Fela Kuti, Jimi Hendrix,
They may have meant the world to you but these men were my heroes
too.
The symbol Prince of Paisley Park, Herbie Hancock, Stanley Clarke,
Clarence, James and Dennis Brown, Gary Byrd (who wore the Crown),
Freddie, Ben E., B.B. King, Heatwave and the Real Thing,
They may have meant the world to you but these men were my heroes
too.
-----------------------------------
Three Score Years and Ten
It's not that I am
in despair; I'm glad that I'm alive!
But many times I've
seen the shit the future can contrive,
I think about the
friends we lost before the virus struck,
What reason would
those friends have had to give a flying fuck?
I think about the
decade before my date of birth;
Would that have been
a better time for a man to fall to Earth?
Would I have had a
better life if I'd been born back then?
Although by now I
would have used my three score years and ten.
But that's the
point; if I'm to spend my last remaining years;
Behind a mask,
before a screen with voices in my ears,
I'll think about those
friends and think 'it's really not a crime;
To suggest they were
the lucky ones that got out just in time'.
We all mourn David
Bowie but we shouldn't get the hump,
He died before the
Brexit vote; before the rise of Trump,
Before coronavirus and
the plague upon the realm,
Before the Johnson
Government with Cummings at the helm;
If I had died when
he did but had seen what Bowie saw;
Nations
reconstructing from the ashes of the War,
Baby and consumer
booms; the birth of rock and roll,
Would that have been
a better way to play my earthly role?
Better than to spend
your years on a planet clearly doomed,
Than see the fire
and pestilence by which we'll be consumed,
Better to be a
wayward youth with Brylcreem in your hair,
Than be a modern no
one that's not going anywhere.
Better to have music
on the radio at night,
Than hear the BBC
report the resurge of the right,
Better to have fled
in haste from a gang of angry teds,
Than spend your
evening putting likes on angry Facebook threads.
Better to have been
a fan when Matthews was the star,
Than suffer Alan
Shearer's expert views on V.A.R.
Better to have seen
McCarthy weeding out the reds,
Than witness social
media tear someone's life to shreds.
Better to have
learned the songs from your Uncle's skiffle group,
Than listen to Ed
Sheeran on and endless fucking loop,
Better hide in a
darkened room where evil shadows lurk,
Than live in an
enlightened age when the off-switch doesn't work.
Better to believe
you're free and know when you're alone,
Than wonder if
you're being watched or followed by a drone,
What kind of
inspiration could Bowie draw from this?
He did himself a
favour by giving it a miss.
---------------------------------------
Tugendhat
Tom Tugendhat is my
tip for the top; he's the knees of the bees; the cream of the crop,
A political cyclone
that nothing can stop; yes Tom Tugendhat is my tip for the top.
The current incumbent's a bit of a flop; sooner or later he's due for the chop,
His administration's all over the shop; the Tory head Honcho is due for a swap,
Like Sturgeon in Scotland and Drakeford in Wales; the power-mad wolf packs are hot on their tails,
Like lumbering tortoises racing with snails but a dark horse comes suddenly up on the rails;
Tom Tugendhat is my
tip for the top; Tom Tugendhat is the name you should drop,
A wop-bop-a-loo-bop, hippety-hop; Tom Tugendhat is my tip for the top.
He chairs the Committee on Foreign Affairs; he has a demeanour that says that he cares,
He has the charisma the rest of them lack; the man to put Britain right back on the track,
The cabinet members are dowdy and dull; most of them ought to be due for a cull,
Javid and Sunak, Gove and Zahawi; we're not going to vote for these idiots are we?
A
Nation salutes as his banner's unfurled; 'Tonbridge today; tomorrow the world!'
Here come the
cavalry; clippety-clop; Tom Tugendhat is my tip for
the top.
----------------------------------
Uninvited Guest
God is a garden gnome; he's out there
by the pond,
Ask him any question and he will not
respond,
Instead he'll keep on smiling while
clutching at his rod,
Lost in contemplation at the thought of
being God,
I'm a toe-nail cutting from a footnote in history; an insignificant
speck,
I consider it a privilege to be spinning on your deck,
I was born to shop online; destined to consume,
I'm a citizen of the space age but I seldom leave the room,
I want to be a minority; I want to feel
oppressed,
I want to be on the periphery; the
uninvited guest,
If I renounce my privilege and give up
all my wealth;
Could I become a victim just to satisfy
myself?
I'm a toe-nail cutting from a footnote in history; an insignificant
speck,
I consider it a privilege to be playing on your deck,
I was born to shop online; baby, I was born to consume,
I'm a citizen of the space age but I seldom leave the room.
-----------------
Were My Parents
Racists?
Were my parents racists? The
question that I pose,
Is sure to ruffle feathers and
get up someone's nose,
Particularly those whose folks
were Labour through and through,
Please be reassured that this
does not apply to you.
Were my parents racists? Why
should you even ask?
The Black Lives Matter Movement
bids me undertake the task,
Of looking back upon the time
when we learned all our words;
When all the men were fellas and
all the girls were birds,
And there were many other things
we would not say today,
But once those words were in our
heads, they would not go away.
I argued with my parents as I
have often said,
Always were they Tory blues
while I was raging red,
It isn't that my love for them
was less than theirs for me,
Or even that our family was inclined
to disagree,
I was born in peacetime; they'd
lived through a war,
Their view of life was tempered
by the suffering they saw.
Dad had served in India and
never did discuss,
The origins of all those words
that they passed on to us,
The kids at school knew all
those words and used them day to day,
Along with many other words we
would not dare to say.
The 70s vocabulary now sits in a
drawer,
That one day will be opened to
reveal what was before.
Our parents taught us right from
wrong; that's what a parent does,
But the moral code that they had
learned just could not work for us,
At seventeen the rebel punk
began a brief affair,
With a girl born in Antigua with
pretty braided hair,
I took her to my parents' house
that they might say hello,
But Mum just held the door ajar
and told her she must go.
Family relations thus were never
quite the same,
Forty years and more I've borne
the burden of my shame.
How can parents guide the way if
they are in the dark?
The destination has been
reached; it's time to disembark,
The statues must be toppled; the
books must all be burnt,
We must start unlearning all
that we should not have learnt,
Were my parents racists? I fear
I must confess,
But only if it doesn't mean I
loved them any less.
____________________
My
Eternal Gratitude
I'm sorry
for my arrogance and flagrant lassitude;
My
rudeness and aloofness and my ruthless attitude,
Sorry
if this sounds like one pretentious platitude,
It's
just my way of showing my eternal gratitude.
To parents and to relatives that aren't around to thank,
Your memories are safely locked inside a mental bank,
I'm grateful for your kindness and your generosity,
I'm sorry for creating any animosity,
Teachers at my infant school; I tip my hat to you,
Teaching me was a dirty job that someone had to do,
And those that sat beside me in those dim and distant days;
To put up with this classmate is deserving of my praise,
I'm
sorry for my arrogance and flagrant lassitude;
My
rudeness and aloofness and my ruthless attitude,
Sorry if
this sounds like one pretentious platitude,
It's
just my way of showing my eternal gratitude.
To those that tolerated me throughout my troubled teens;
Your efforts to correct me weren't in vain by any means,
Your patience is appreciated fifty years ahead,
Sorry for the hurtful things I'm sure I must have said,
Girlfriends (in the era I'm referring to above):
With whom I shared desires that we all mistook for love,
I was young and foolish and I acted like a twat,
I offer no excuses; I'm sorry and that's that,
I'm
sorry for my arrogance and flagrant lassitude;
My
rudeness and aloofness and my ruthless attitude,
Sorry
if this sounds like one pretentious platitude,
It's
just my way of showing my eternal gratitude.
To people who employed me; respect is overdue,
You might have found you'd bitten off a chunk you couldn't
chew,
Hedonist and profligate; selfish and depraved;
There is no mitigation for the way that I behaved,
To colleagues on the football field; I wear the yoke of
shame,
For the pass I never gave you or the cross that never came,
Referees I shouted at; opponents I maligned;
Sorry; can we put those nasty incidents behind?
I'm
sorry for my arrogance and flagrant lassitude;
My
rudeness and aloofness and my ruthless attitude,
Sorry if
this sounds like one pretentious platitude,
It's
just my way of showing my eternal gratitude.
To Kev, a very special friend of whom I often think,
You wanted to expand my mind, but all it did was shrink,
I didn't hear the message that you innocently yelled,
For prehistoric prejudices I and others held,
Tina; your compliance, your fidelity and trust;
Rewarded with a broken heart and dreams reduced to dust,
Gary the Spontaneous; thy spectre loometh
large,
Sorry that I wasn't there to wish you bon voyage,
I'm
sorry for my arrogance and flagrant lassitude;
My
rudeness and aloofness and my ruthless attitude,
Sorry
if this sounds like one pretentious platitude,
It's
just my way of showing my eternal gratitude.
To anyone that ever had to see me at my worst;
That's not what I'd have done if I'd thought about it
first,
Sorry I was distant from the place that I belonged,
Unreserved apologies to anyone I've wronged,
Sorry my contrition makes you grumpy and depressed,
Sorry but I needed to get something off my chest,
Those we interact with make the people that we are,
In the bank of happy memories, everyone's a star.
I'm
sorry for my arrogance and flagrant lassitude;
My
rudeness and aloofness and my ruthless attitude,
Sorry if
this sounds like one pretentious platitude,
It's
just my way of showing my eternal gratitude.
Photo: Christine
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part Three: Self-Obsessment; Songs 2022
This set
began as a words-only series of new poems that I had been posting on Facebook
particularly at the beginning of 2022.
However, in
search of a new musical project, I hit on the idea of remixing some of my
favourite tunes (by artists such as Osibisa,
King Tubby
and the Brothers Johnson) in order that they could provide the backing tracks
for the new poems. The resulting
music
cannot be released for obvious reasons but if you would like to hear these
poems in their musical setting, contact me.
SELF-OBSESSMENT (SCDR
158) 16th March 2022
Raz Razzle:
Mixing, mashing,
loops, editing, words and voice
SO 01 All About Me
UPSETTERS Return of Django
3:50
SO 02 Do the Washing Up
MANFRED MANN'S EARTHBAND Meat
4:30
SO 03 Killing Game
CURVED AIR Metamorphosis
JACOB MILLER Tenement Yard
4:15
SO 04 My TV Career
CURVED AIR U.H.F.
KING TUBBY Blood of Africa
BUDGIE Breadfan
2:50
SO 05 Fake Follower
AMERICA Here
3:55
SO 06 Mr Authenticity
AMERICA Clarice
3:40
SO 07 Nostalgia
HELLO Tell Him
3:30
SO 08 The Great Consumer
BROTHERS JOHNSON Tomorrow
4:30
SO 09 Posthumous Award
BURNING SPEAR Slavery Days
4:55
SO 10 New Razareth
NAZARETH This Flight Tonight/Morning Dew
4:00
SO 11 Self-Obsessment
ALAN HULL STD 0632 (Pipedream)
4:07
SO 12 The Human Condition
JERRY REED Honkin'
3:15
SO 13 Strictly!
XAVIER CUGAT The Nightingale
4:09
SO 14 Tom Tugendhat
TITANIC Scarlet
4:00
SO 15 Online Sunshine
SERGIO MENDES Crystal Illusions
4:30
SO 16 As Basingstoke As It Gets
1:23
SO 17 My Brother's Magic Train Set
OSIBISA Music for Gong-Gong
5:20
SO 18 Perfect Time
ANANDA SHANKAR Snowflower
JOE WALSH Rocky Mountain Way
4:25
SO 19 My Glorious Own Goal
PFM Dolcissima Maria
BAG-O-WIRE Skankeboo
5:30
SO 20 Warwatch!
GEORGE LEWIS Panama Rag
2:00
All About Me
I don't wanna know no one
else's views; I don't wanna know what you use or choose,
I don't wanna read no one
else's words; I don't wanna be pestered by these nerds,
I don't wanna see no one's videos; I don't wanna look in
through their windows,
I don't wanna see anybody's art or artistry,
It's all about me; it's all about me.
I don't wanna hear you or
anyone; my time as a listener is done,
I don't wanna hear
politicians lie; I don't wanna see
Socialism die,
I don't wanna know where
or why you went; I don't wanna know how
your time was spent,
I don't wanna see anything
that I don't wanna see,
It's all about me; it's all about me.
I don't wanna know anyone's desires; I don't care about plagues
or floods or fires,
I don't wanna know
problems that you've got, I don't care if you disagree or not,
I've got to be top of
every list; without me my world would not exist,
I don't wanna hear no one
else's song or symphony,
It's all about me; it's all about me.
I don't wanna know how the
system works; I don't wanna know any of
these jerks,
I don't wanna be baffled
and confused; I don't wanna be
sanctioned and accused,
I don't wanna know what
you really think; don't wanna know what
you eat and drink,
I don't wanna see any kind
of human tragedy,
It's all about me; it's all about me.
########################################
Do the Washing Up
There's a brand new dance
I'd like to introduce to you,
And if your plates are
greasy, it's an easy dance to do,
All you need is a bowl of
water, a dishcloth and a cup,
Then you've got the things
you need to do the washing up,
Do the washing up; come on and do it now!
Do the washing-up just like your Mama showed you how,
Get yourself a Brillo pad, a j-cloth or a
sponge,
No procrastinatin'; it's time to take the
plunge,
Do the washing up etc.
You can do it in the
kitchen to your favourite old tunes,
Especially the cutlery (the
knives and forks and spoons),
Domestic chores can be far
more exciting than you think,
Your hands need not be
synchronised but they gotta stay in the sink,
Do the washing up etc.
When you do the washing up
you're rooted to the spot,
But it's over pretty soon
if the water's good and hot,
It's the brand new dance
sensation and it's causing quite a buzz,
It's the dance your kids
all wanna do but your husband never does,
Do the washing up etc.
Use some soapy liquid; one
that's really green,
Vigorously scrub each
plate; make certain that it's clean,
Wash the pots and the
crockery and put them out to drain,
Then put 'em in the cupboard till you get 'em
out again,
Do the washing up etc.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Killing Game
Cats don't want no conflict! Dogs don't
want no wars!
Domestic pets in general don't want blood on their paws,
Birds don't like belligerence and fish are pacifists,
War is what the reptile and amphibian resists,
Ants don't like antipathy and nor do butterflies,
Wasps and bees and beetles don't have murder in their eyes,
You might witness fighting fish or a boxing kangaroo,
But murder is a thing that only human beings do.
Goats are no more bellicose than cattle, pigs or sheep,
Rabbits just want rabbit food and somewhere warm to sleep,
Lions kill to eat but it is not a killing game,
Jaguars and eagles; you would have to say the same,
Llamas and alpacas form a pact against the bomb,
Orangutans love everyone no matter where they're from,
An elephant is clumsy but he wouldn't kick a cat,
Only humans can perform an act as crass as that.
Brown trout like tranquillity; cod and carp like calm,
Sharks are pretty scary but they don't mean any harm,
Doves don't kill each other, not for vengeance or for kicks,
Blackbirds just need feathered nests where they can raise their
chicks,
Bears and wolves live in the wood and should not be ignored,
But they won't pick on other critters just because they're
bored,
Homicide and genocide are never on their mind,
Premeditated murder is unique to humankind.
.....................................
My TV Career
My heart was set on a TV career when I finished my studies at
school,
I cut my teeth as understudy to Lambchop
and Muffin the Mule,
I made my debut in the Woodentops as the
white wooden dog with the spots,
I did Bill & Ben (the Flowerpot Men) yes, I was on top of the
pots!
That nice Gerry Anderson gave me a job as a frightening Mysteron voice,
And I was the guard on the runaway train (as featured on Junior
Choice),
They gave me some work as a Clanger; I was in the original group,
But I didn't get on with the Dragon and I wasn't too keen on his
soup,
I found it a beastly ensemble; I decided it wasn't my scene,
So I spent a few weeks as a Womble and an extra in Camberwick Green,
The 'On the Buses' director directed me off of the bus,
The Seven Dwarfs told me "you think that you're big but you're too
small to be one of us",
But Record Breakers revived my career and it gave me my confidence
back,
I broke fifty records by Peters & Lee in a frenzied and violent
attack,
I walked off the set of the Waltons when
John-Boy called me a creep,
But I was a voice-coach for Sooty and I did all the squeaking for
Sweep,
But the Christmas Show was a turkey and it didn't get me any more
gigs,
So I worked with Pinky & Perky even
though they behaved like pigs,
I failed my audition as Catweasel even
though I had the perfect face,
But I got to be a renegade robot in an episode of Lost in Space,
Mine was the digit in Fingermouse (just
before it was abolished),
I built the extension on Hector's House (just before it was
demolished),
I featured in Sara & Hoppity and in
Mary, Mungo & Midge,
I was quickly becoming hot property and I had to be kept in the
fridge,
I was the guy with the shovel who followed
the pantomime horse,
I was the copper that lifted the tape in Midsomer
Murders and Morse,
I was a corpse in a coffin; the role in the end was my last,
I had a part in a life of my own but my name was left out of the
cast.
_______________________________
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fake
Follower
PROFESSIONAL FAKE FOLLOWER AVAILABLE FOR
HIRE!
Follows faithfully to the standards you
require,
Follows any leader for negotiated fee,
Complimentary comments are an added
guarantee,
If your Twitter
ratings have been radically reduced;
Followers are what you need to give yourself
a boost!
Swell your stats and figures; make your
Facebook page a hit!
Get a friend who will support you even when
you're talking shit!
Swell
your stats and figures; make your Facebook page a hit!
Get
a friend who will support you even when you're talking shit!
I
can be your ally on the same wavelength as you,
I'll
say how wonderful you are each time you tell me to.
Sharing and re-tweeting are included in the
deal,
The follower is phoney but the algorithm's
real,
I follow pop and film stars; I tell them
that they're great,
Politicians speak to me as though I were
their mate,
I've followed Boris Johnson and I've
followed Tony Blair,
I even followed Donald Trump; I really
didn't care!
I followed Nigel Farage (though I used a
pseudonym),
But I draw the line at Starmer; I'd never
follow him.
Swell
your stats and figures; make your Facebook page a hit!
Get
a friend who will support you even when you're talking shit!
I
can be your ally on the same wavelength as you,
I'll
say how wonderful you are each time you tell me to. (Rpt.)
______________________________
Mr Authenticity
Let me search forever at my
local record store,
I don't want Prime to find
it for me or bring it to my door,
I don't read stuff on
Kindle and I don't read books online,
But a tatty dog-eared
paperback is absolutely fine.
I'm Mr Authenticity; my day will surely come,
When I'll be blessed with Vesta meals and Hubba-Bubba
Gum,
Cars will all have leather seats and gleaming grills of chrome,
Flying ducks and Tretchikovs will hang in
every home,
Around me are the things I
love; the records and the books;
Ornaments and souvenirs and
pictures hung on hooks,
All of them could be
preserved behind computer screens,
But how would anybody know
what any of it means?
I'm Mr Authenticity; I find it very sad,
That people see the world today through a laptop or a pad,
Bring back busy high
streets where shoppers dodge the cars,
Smoky pubs with timber
beams; not nail or sushi bars,
I'm Mr Authenticity; I only
want what's real;
I don't like WAVs or MP3s
or things I cannot feel,
My world goes in a skip
when I hear St. Peter's call,
A life without the things I
love is not a life at all,
Bring back football programmes
and smelly canvas tents,
Bring back public
telephones and posters for events,
I'm Mr Authenticity; I'm of a dying breed,
I draw a line between my wants and what I really need,
I'm Mr Authenticity; I find it very sad,
That people see the world today through a laptop or a pad,
I'm Mr Authenticity; I'm of a dying breed,
I draw a line between my wants and what I really need,
I'm Mr Authenticity; my day will surely come,
When I'll be blessed with Vesta meals and Hubba-Bubba
Gum,
Cars will all have leather seats and gleaming grills of chrome,
Flying ducks and Tretchikovs will hang in
every home.
=======================
---------------------------------------------
Nostalgia
They gave us Andy Pandy;
they gave us Bill & Ben,
All of it was bollocks; we even thought so then,
It isn't so surprising we were all so highly
strung,
Nostalgia
isn't quite the thing it was when we were young.
They gave us Jackanory and American cartoons,
Peter Glaze and Stewpot acting like buffoons,
I felt like shouting 'bollocks' but I had to
hold my tongue,
Nostalgia
isn't quite the thing it was when we were young.
They gave us David Cassidy and teenybopper mush,
They gave us Wurzel Gummage, Dr. Who and Basil Brush,
They gave us Donny Osmond and endless heaps of
dung,
Nostalgia
isn't quite the thing it was when we were young.
Football was the thing we craved but all we got
was golf,
They gave us Jimmy Savile, Stuart Hall and Rolf,
Not the kind of company you'd choose to be
among,
Nostalgia
isn't quite the thing it was when we were young.
They gave us Noel Edmonds, the Muppets and the
Wombles,
Showaddy-fucking-waddy and other such ensembles,
They gave us gods to venerate and anthems to be
sung,
Nostalgia
isn't quite the thing it was when we were young.
Nostalgia
isn't quite the thing it was when we were young.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Great Consumer
I am the great consumer; the advertiser's dream,
I buy each crappy product he sends floating down the stream,
My credit card is ready and my online bank account,
Agrees to pay the bearer any great or small amount,
I am the great consumer with power to purchase,
Creams that will revitalise my antiquated face,
I never read the T & Cs printed underneath,
But I buy the whitest toothpaste even though I have no teeth,
I bought myself a
Peloton, a Karcher and a Vax,
And a bargain
plastic pedal-bin with a free supply of sacks,
I bought some CBD
oil (that gave me quite a buzz),
And a thing to put
my feet in (just like Ian Botham does),
I am the great consumer; I'm easily impressed,
By images of animals mistreated and distressed,
Each time I see those frightened eyes, my toes begin to curl,
I now have shares in a pangolin, three donkeys and a girl.
I am the great consumer; I analyse the ads,
In search of innovations and of all the latest fads,
I've got Britbox; I've got Netflix; I've
got Virgin; I've got Sky,
And they all have different ads for products I have yet to buy,
I am the great
consumer; I spill Ribena when,
My carpet cleaner is
on hand to suck it up again,
I am the great
consumer; I whip my wallet out,
For coins
commemorating people I don't care about,
I am the great consumer; my purchases ensure,
The advertising industry is destined to endure,
And every day the couriers bring parcels to my door,
And I'm on a million mailing lists that offer even more.
I am the great consumer; the advertiser's dream,
I buy each crappy product he sends floating down the stream,
My credit card is ready and my online bank account,
Agrees to pay the bearer any great or small amount.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Posthumous
Award
I
wasn't nominated for a Nobel Prize for my efforts to restore world peace,
And
I wasn't nominated for an Ivor Novello coz my songs
criticised the police,
I
wasn't nominated for the Turner Prize coz I couldn't find a wall to deface,
And
I wasn't nominated for the Charlemagne Prize coz I didn't like the human race,
But I'm happy to receive this
posthumous award on behalf of my former self,
I'm certain that he would
have been profoundly moved and he'd have put it on the bathroom shelf,
I
wasn't nominated for an Oscar coz I didn't have a role in any pics,
And
I wasn't nominated for a Tony coz acting wasn't how I
got my kicks,
And
I wasn't nominated for a BAFTA coz the theatre didn't float my boat,
And
I wasn't nominated for a Brit Award coz nobody heard the songs that I wrote,
But I'm happy to receive this
posthumous award as I know it would have made him smile,
Such a gesture of
appreciation might have made his life worthwhile.
I'm happy to receive this
posthumous award on behalf of my former self,
I'm certain that he would
have been profoundly moved and he'd have put it on the bathroom shelf,
I'm happy to receive this
posthumous award as I know it would have made him smile,
Such a gesture of
appreciation might have made his life worthwhile.
--------------------------------------------------------
New Razareth (One of those Days)
It was one of those
'wish I could die' days when I felt so lost and alone,
It was one of those
'wondering why' days; probably the worst I've known,
It was one of those
'feel I could cry' days when the demons and the doubts conspire,
It was one of those
'look to the sky' days for a missile or a messiah,
It was one of those
'keep 'em at bay' days when I didn't want them in my
space,
It was one of those
'grizzly grey' days when the world was such a dreadful place,
It was one of those
'nothing to say' days when you throw the toys out of the pram,
It was one of those
'take me away' days when I didn't wanna be who I am.
It was one of those
'terrible news' days when I didn't dare to watch TV,
It was one of those
'end of my fuse' days when I didn't wanna hear or see,
It was one of those
'where is the sun?' days when the summer seemed a long way off,
It was one of those
'coming undone' done days when I sank to the bottom of the trough,
It was one of those
'please, no more' days when life was like a waste of time,
It was one of those
'what's it all for?' days when there wasn't any reason or rhyme,
It was one of those
'can't explain' days when the words wouldn't crystallise,
It was one of those
'no more pain' days when the hurt could be seen in my eyes.
It was one of those
'where do I go?' days when a metre seems more than a mile,
It was one of those
'I don't know' days that happen every once-in-a-while,
It was one of those
'can't understand' days when everything is so unfair,
It was one of those
'hold my hand' days when I needed to know you were there.
------------------------------------------
Self-Obsessment
I'm
going to psychoanalyse myself; I'm going to take a look inside my mind,
I'll
be like Sigmund Freud; I'll gaze into the void and get annoyed by everything I
find,
I'm
going to psychoanalyse myself; no thought will be discarded or ignored,
I'll
be my own shrink though I won't know what to think till each corridor and link
has been explored,
I'm
going to psychoanalyse myself; I'm going to send a probe to inner space,
Venturing
alone to that vast uncharted zone in the not-so-great unknown behind my face,
I'm
going to psychoanalyse myself to understand my sudden change of mood,
Each
song I ever wrote; each utterance and quote; each melody and note must be
reviewed,
I'm
going to psychoanalyse myself while the tide is at its lowest ebb,
The
codes can be decoded and the myths can be exploded by a kit that I downloaded
from the web,
I'm
going to psychoanalyse myself and visit places I could never reach,
Inside
the hidden caves and beneath the rolling waves and amongst the rank detritus on
the beach,
I'm
going to psychoanalyse myself; I'm going to find out what's between my ears,
Where
evil demons lurk and go about their work on the lachrymal machine that makes
the tears,
I'm
going to psychoanalyse myself; I'm going to scan the oceans and the skies,
I'll
be the head detective and at my most effective in the retrospective world
behind my eyes.
I'm
going to psychoanalyse myself; I'm going to take a look inside my mind,
I'll
be like Sigmund Freud; I'll gaze into the void and get annoyed by everything I
find.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The
Human Condition
They
call it the human condition; it's a fluctuating mental state,
One
day I feel suicidal; next day I feel great,
To
live life in this human form has always been my fate,
They
call it the human condition; I was diagnosed when I was three,
They
told my mama that I had bad karma and there wasn't any remedy,
I'm
floating on an ocean of emotion and drowning in a sea of me,
They
call it the human condition; apparently there is no cure,
It's
a malady we acquire at birth that we tolerate and endure,
We
hunt the food that we can use to generate manure,
They
call it the human condition; it's a fluctuating mental state,
One
day I feel suicidal; next day I feel great,
To
live life in this human form has always been my fate,
They
call it the human condition though some say it's a myth,
You
get it from your ancestors and share it with your kin and kith,
Call
it what you want; it's what you're saddled with.
They
call it the human condition; I read about it in a book,
You
can claim you're a part of the animal world but it won't get you off the hook,
It's
what gives you that pained expression and disenchanted look.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
Strictly!
I'm going to be on Strictly!
I warn you in advance,
The BBC is going to teach me how to
smile and how to dance,
I'm going to be on Strictly!
It's good to be alive!
I'm going to dance the cha-cha-cha,
the Charleston and the jive,
I'm going to
have a partner; I won't be on my own,
Their gender
and identity are as yet still unknown,
I'm going to
learn the steps and all the funky moves,
Flex my
latent quadriceps when my mobility improves,
I'm going to be on Strictly!
I warn you in advance,
The BBC is going to teach me how to
smile and how to dance,
This could be my moment! This could
be my chance!
It's sure to give me blisters but
that's a boil I've got to lance,
I'm going to
do the foxtrot, the samba and the rhumba,
My
Argentinian tango is going to be a steamy number,
I'll have to
give up certain things like alcohol and chips,
As neither
is conducive to the shaking of the hips,
I'm going to be on Strictly,
so it has been revealed,
Competitors are all respected figures
in their field,
Quite what I'm respected for eludes
me, I'm afraid,
But I'm going to be on Strictly so my debt's as good as paid!
I'm going to be on Strictly!
Another dream fulfilled!
My agent and his family are
absolutely thrilled,
I'm hanging up the bass and flogging
my guitars,
Then I'll take my rightful place
among the Strictly stars.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tom Tugendhat
Tom Tugendhat is my
tip for the top; Tom Tugendhat is the name you should drop,
A wop-bop-a-loo-bop,
hippety-hop; Tom Tugendhat is my tip for the top,
Tom Tugendhat is my tip
for the top; he's the knees of the bees; he's the cream of the crop,
A political cyclone
that nothing can stop; yes Tom Tugendhat is my tip for the top,
The current incumbent's a bit of a flop; sooner or later he's due
for the chop,
His administration's all over the shop; the Tory head Honcho is due
for a swap,
Like Sturgeon in Scotland and Drakeford
in Wales; the power-mad wolf packs are hot on their tails,
Like lumbering tortoises racing with snails but a dark horse comes
suddenly up on the rails,
Tom Tugendhat is my
tip for the top; he's the knees of the bees; he's the cream of the crop,
A political cyclone
that nothing can stop; yes Tom Tugendhat is my tip for the top,
A nation salutes as
his banner's unfurled; 'Tonbridge today; tomorrow the world!'
Here come the
cavalry; clippety-clop; Tom Tugendhat is my tip for
the top.
He chairs the Committee on Foreign Affairs; he has a demeanour that
says that he cares,
He has the charisma the rest of them lack; the man to put Britain
right back on the track,
The cabinet members are dreary and dull; most of them ought to be
due for a cull,
Javid, Gove, Sunak, Truss
and Zahawi; we're not going to vote for these idiots
are we?
Tom Tugendhat is my
tip for the top; Tom Tugendhat is the name you should drop,
A wop-bop-a-loo-bop,
a hippety-hop; Tom Tugendhat is my tip for the top,
Tom Tugendhat is my
tip for the top; he's the knees of the bees; he's the cream of the crop,
A political cyclone
that nothing can stop; yes Tom Tugendhat is my tip for the top.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Online Sunshine
Silk screen plasticine polythene grenadine sea-green praline
morphine aubergine
Halloween magazine pristine langoustine Weinstein gangrene hygiene
tangerine
Epstein Einstein Eisenstein Frankenstein Wittgenstein Holbein
Bernstein Calvin Klein
Online sunshine serpentine turpentine alkaline grapevine Androgyne
porcupine
Daylight frostbite Marmite bullfight midnight foresight snow white
dynamite
Forthright playwright outright gobshite skin-tight termite
top-flight cellulite
Half-speed Harris Tweed sweat bead chickenfeed Siegfried stampede
Aristide aniseed
Runnymede crossbreed jump-lead guaranteed knotweed nosebleed
knock-kneed centipede
Robot apricot, Aeroflot microdot snapshot time-slot slipknot
polyglot
Pepper-pot guillemot, foxtrot paraquat dry
rot hotspot pot-shot blood clot
Ex-pat fruit bat, b-flat diplomat top-hat laundromat cowpat
thermostat
Snapchat love rat combat Alleycat puppy-fat brickbat wombat acrobat
Ozark aardvark, Petrarch patriarch bright spark mud lark bank clerk
Joan of Arques
Cutty Sark disembark Noah's Ark trademark card shark pitch dark car
park oligarch
Buzzcocks breeze blocks, dreadlock's paradox Fort Knox moonrocks bed socks
hollyhocks,
Musk ox, detox dog fox chickenpox Ibrox X-Box Boondocks goggle-box
Tin can Taliban egg flan marzipan glam-gran astrakhan sampan
superman
Wuhan masterplan fake tan also-ran all bran caravan partisan
parmesan
Corbin Benelyn sloe gin vitamin Paladin
siskin dustbin paraffin
Theremin sequin medicine keratin hatpin Chaplin shark fin javelin
Knickknack Cadillac matt black quarterback big mac caddy shack
hijack Kerouac
Jetpack arse-crack Blue Tac roof rack fast-track cul-de-sac
smokestack maniac
Arabic psychic music clever-dick pelvic hat-trick skin-flick
turmeric
Red brick picnic karmic candlewick seasick beatnik sidekick lunatic
Meanwhile exile docile domicile juvenile nail-file speed-dial
paedophile
Volatile Bath tile mobile stock pile febrile show-trial camomile
lifestyle
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As
Basingstoke as it gets
I'm as Basingstoke as it gets; I peer at my street through
the nets,
I see all the muggers and lazy, young buggers smoke reefers
and jazz cigarettes,
I'm as Basingstoke as it gets; I never discard my Gazettes,
They're under my bed at the back of the shed with my Daniel
O'Donnell cassettes,
I'm as Basingstoke as it gets; I got Burberry coats for my
pets,
Their jackets and collars cost hundreds of dollars but
always impress at the vet's,
I'm as Basingstoke as it gets; I'm worried I'll drown in my
debts,
But I love roundabouts and ill-mannered louts; why should I
have any regrets?
Why should I have any regrets?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My Brother's Magic Trainset
My brother's magic trainset; it was
an awesome thing,
I wouldn't underestimate the
happiness that it could bring,
It went around the bedroom floor
and underneath the writing desk,
It did a kind of loop-the-loop and
a twisting arabesque,
It went into a tunnel by an old
refrigerator,
And from the wardrobe re-emerged
some fifteen minutes later,
Where it went to in that time was
anybody's guess,
We couldn't trace the tracks
because the room was such a mess.
My brother's magic trainset; it had
a handsome station,
With porters, guards and passengers
and plastic vegetation,
There was a bridge that spanned two
stacks of Basingstoke Gazettes,
The signal box was vandalised by
cumbersome domestic pets,
Locals called it Noah Vale and used
it to commute,
(Or rode it to the bathroom when
they needed to ablute),
Those that did the total circuit
round the bedroom floor,
Came back ashen-faced and wouldn't
speak of what they saw.
My brother's magic trainset baffled
all the scientists,
It was the clearest evidence
another universe exists,
The media were sceptical; they said
that it was sophistry,
South Today sent up a team to look
into the mystery,
They stuck a little camera on the
engine of the train,
And waited by the wardrobe till it
trundled out again,
We looked at all the footage on the
video machine,
But no one knew for certain where
the magic train had been.
(Repeat From top)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Perfect
Time
You
avoided the pandemic and the lockdown that ensued,
You
missed the Royal Princes kicking off a family feud,
You
may have seen the breakdown of the capital machine,
But
the dire consequences you could never have foreseen.
You
missed the Russian army chucking missiles at Kyiv,
'Coz
no one ever gets to choose the time in which they
live,
You
didn't see the fighters and the rockets in the sky,
Maybe
you just knew it was the perfect time to die.
You
didn't feel the tension of the threat of an attack,
You
thought the days of poverty were never coming back,
You
missed the floods and the forest fires and the economic storm,
You
didn't think that foodbanks were about to be the norm.
You
avoided the pandemic and the lockdown that ensued,
You
missed the Royal Princes kicking off a family feud,
You
may have seen the breakdown of the capital machine,
But
the dire consequences you could never have foreseen.
Your
old computer playing-up was your idea of Hell,
You
didn't see the pit of torment into which we fell,
Maybe
you were unaware you were a lucky guy,
Or
maybe you just knew it was the perfect time to die.
bdbdbdbdbdbdbdbd
My Glorious Own-Goal
My glorious own-goal
has claimed a hefty toll; it haunts my every moment and it weighs upon my soul,
My glorious own goal;
my loss of ball control was voted soccer's greatest gaff in a TV viewers' poll.
(x 2)
I've got it all on video and on a DVD, complete with all the laughter and Pat Nevin's punditry,
From twenty different angles so that all the world can see my personal catastrophe for all eternity.
My glorious own-goal
has claimed a hefty toll; it haunts my every moment and it weighs upon my soul,
My glorious own goal;
my loss of ball control was voted soccer's greatest gaff in a TV viewers' poll.
Do I still remember it? As if I could forget! I thought an overhead kick would have been the safest bet,
I didn't know that it would mean a lifetime of regret and even now I hear that volley slap against the net,
My glorious own-goal
has claimed a hefty toll; it haunts my every moment and it weighs upon my soul,
My glorious own goal;
my loss of ball control was voted soccer's greatest gaff in a TV viewers' poll.
My glorious own goal; it wasn't very droll; the Club was relegated and I was on the dole.
I watched it with my wife that night; we saw it on our screen; Shearer said it was the best own-goal that he had ever seen.
My glorious own-goal
has claimed a hefty toll; it haunts my every moment and it weighs upon my soul,
My glorious own goal;
my loss of ball control was voted soccer's greatest gaff in a TV viewers' poll.
And
finally...
New for 2022:
Warwatch!
Warwatch! Follow it here! 24/7 the rest of the year!
Warwatch! Don't miss a shot! Blood and explosions; we've got the lot!
Warwatch! Watch on your phones! We've got our drones in the relevant
zones,
Warwatch! Get all the facts and slow-motion replays of missile attacks,
Warwatch! The showdown begins! The home entertainment where everyone
wins!
Warwatch! The ultimate prize; control of the land and the sea and the
skies!
Warwatch! Is this a bluff? Would any human being be stupid enough?
Warwatch! See who survives! The virtual game with the actual lives!
Warwatch! After the news, Murphy and Shearer will give you their views;
Warwatch! You have your say! Spread the propaganda when it comes your
way,
Warwatch! Have a wonderful war! Experience the terror like never before!
Warwatch! We're out here for you, so you can feel the fear that your
grandmother knew!
Warwatch! Fire and smoke; after a quick word from Pepsi & Coke,
Warwatch! With Chris and the gang; it starts with a whimper but ends
with a bang!