Writer's Block

Writer's block
It's such a shock
To find that words have left you
No last bon mot
Before they go
Just off to somewhere new

Alas, alack
Must win them back
You strive all night and day
But without them here
To frame your thoughts
If you did, what would you say?

Plenty of fish
You tell yourself
Some other words will come
To fill the space
Those left behind
And be your lifelong chum

No verse
No rhyme, no dialogue
No ballad, prose or sonnet
Your mind
A shiny supercar
With nowt under the bonnet

A void
A space, an empty room
A great big yawning chasm
You look around
For answers, but
It seems nobody has 'em

So you sit
Reduced to shrugs
And plaintive facial expressions
Chalk one up
To writer's block
As it teaches you a lesson

The Black Dog

He followed me home again today
He's waiting at the gate
He knows I'll have to leave some time
He knows he holds my fate

I watch him, sitting, staring in
I hope he'll go away
I know he'll sit there waiting though
I've seen the ending to this play

We play these roles every day
We've both learned our part
We've got our lines, no need to learn
We know them off by heart

I tell him I don't need him here
He says he cannot leave
I tell him that I want him gone
He says I need him to breathe

So there he sits, faithful hound
Fangs nipping at my mind
Maybe one day my mood will change
And I'll leave him behind.

Until that time, he'll be right here
Claws stuck in my back
His shadow cast over my soul
That dog of darkest black

Check One-Two

A little something what I wrote, inspired by the #FeelingNuts campaign

See www.checkonetwo.co.uk for more details on how you can ensure good testicular health. Please ensure you have the testicle owner's permission before conducting any checks.

If you care about your goolies
There's no need to feel foolish
Don't sit around and worry 'bout your plight
Don't get yourself in a pickle
Check the shape of your testicle
And see your GP if it isn't right

Be sure to tell your chums
To have a quick check of their plums
Nobody's going to think you look a chump
Don't be all shy and girly
Make sure you catch it early
That's the best way to deal with any lump

So check them while you tweet
Or while you wait to eat
There's no time like the present, trust your guts
You can never be too keen
Make it part of your routine
There's so much to be gained from feeling nuts.

The Twitter Crush

They might be beautiful, or smart

Or you could find them witty

They are on another continent

Or even in your city

Your heart goes all a-flutter

When you look at their avi

Whether on the bus, sat at home

Or tweeting on the lavvy

Feel your breathing get more shallow

With every @, DM or mention

You try to think what you can say

Just to get their attention

But it's hard to find the right words

Within the space you've got

And what if you declare your love

Only to find they love you not?

You might come over needy

They might think of you as silly

So instead you revert back to type

And make a joke about a willy

If you take a minute to read this

Just ponder, for a few

What if the Twitter Crush you have

Has a Twitter Crush on you?

 

Facebook To The Future

Voiceover: The year is 2020. Mark Zuckerberg’s drones have brought the internet to the developing world, with mixed results. Meanwhile, in a cave outside Kandahar…

Scene: Three men are sat in a semi-circle, in traditional Arab dress.

Man 1: Alright, quiet down. Gentlemen…

Man 2: And ladies… (all laugh)

Man 1: Every time you do that, every time it cracks me up. Gentlemen, time to call this quarterly meeting of the Al Qaeda management committee to order. Point 1 on the agenda…

(Sound of electronic music from a video game in the background, everyone looks at one man on his smartphone)

Man 1: Ahmed!! What have we said about turning off phones during meetings?

Man 3: Sorry. I’m just addicted to this Capitalism Crush Martyrs.

Man 1: Put it away. Right, point 1 on the agenda. The failure of our attack on the Olympics. Saeed, what do you have to say for yourself?

Man 2: I don’t understand it. Everything was planned down the finest detail. We even put it on Facebook so everyone knew what was happening. Got a like from the NSA too.

Man 1: Any learning points to take away?

Man 2: Just the one really. Don’t forget about clocks going forward when setting timers. Tick, tock, boom. Poor Omid.

Man 1: Right, point 2. The attack on our last base. Any clues on how they knew where we were?

Man 3: Hang on, just let me update my Foursquare. Yes! I’m mayor of this cave now, suckers.

Man 1: That does it. (Reaches behind him and grabs a rifle)

Man 2: What are you doing?

Man 1: I’m going to sit outside this cave until I see one of those bloody drones, and I’m taking Facebook down. For good.

Man 3: Hang on, before you go. (Man 2 and Man 3 sprawl in front of Man 1, pulling faces and taking a selfie)

Man 2: SMILE!!!!!

My Most British Things

To the tune of “My Favourite Things” from The Sound of Music

Consulting detectives who say “elementary”

Knowing your place and deferring to gentry

Laughing at jokes that make you want to cringe

These are a few of the most British things

Tea at the Ritz and a Gregg’s Cornish pasty

LibDems being weak and Tories being nasty

Teaching pointless dates of old Queens and Kings

These are a few of the most British things

Shakespeare’s Globe and Geilgud at the Old Vic

Right wing newspapers being xenophobic

Paying your gas bill by pawning your bling

These are a few of the most British things

When Cameron talks, about values

Really makes me sad

Then I remember he’ll be gone next year

And things just don’t seem so bad....

Tube Strike News

Voiceover:     We interrupt our usual programming to bring you this special report…

Anchor:          As the strike by London Underground staff reaches its second hour, news is coming in of the hardships being endured by commuters. Our reporters around the capital have been chauffeur-driven out to bring you these updates. First, we go over to Brian at Warren Street

Brian:             Thank you Kate. A slow start to the morning rush hour here at Warren Street, as the mole people are forced to emerge blinking into the daylight. Extra security has been put in place in case the Morlocks and Chuds take advantage of the deserted tunnels to launch an attack on us surface dwellers. Now over to Jill at Euston, who is so close I can virtually reach out and touch her. Jill…

Jill:                  Thank you Brian. Chaos here just a few minutes ago, as a pedestrian stepped out from the station onto the pavement and immediately froze with his eyes in a downward position, expecting it to carry him to his destination. Too afraid to make eye contact several hundred of his fellow passengers joined in, blocking off access to the station…

Anchor:          Sorry Jill, I’m going to have to stop you there. Drama at South Kensington, so let’s go see what our reporter there can tell us…

Dave:              Thank you Kate. It appears we’ve had our first tube strike baby, born right on the platform here. As I speak, the crowds are holding him up to the light in scenes reminiscent of The Lion King. Details are patchy at this time, but I understand the child has been named “Not Bloody Boris Johnson That’s For Sure”, and the mother may not have even been pregnant when she began queuing for her train.

Anchor:          Thank you Dave. Incredible scenes, I’m sure you’ll agree. Of course it’s not just the Underground that has been affected, with the impact also being felt on the road network. Angela is on The Embankment for us. Angela…

Angela:          Thank you Kate. Traffic has been brought to an absolute standstill here, after a woman appeared to stage a daring hijack on a UPS van. I understand the driver had pulled up behind a bus which was stationary at this stop, when the woman – more familiar with tube travel – mistook his van for the second carriage and climbed in through the passenger door. She refused to leave the van until police with a loud hailer told her she had arrived at Temple station, and to take all her belongings with her. Kate. 

Anchor:          The reduced Underground service has of course put extra pressure on London buses. Transport for London rules would normally prevent us from reporting live, but we have managed to sneak Bob onto the network from where he has sent us this report. This may contain images of poor people, which some of you might find distressing.

Bob:                It’s hard for most of us to envisage what these poor bus users go through on a daily basis, but today their numbers have been swelled by outsiders forced here by the greedy union barons.

Our journey began at first light, although for some it did not begin at all as they failed to work out which side of the road to stand or which of the many magic obelisks the bus would stop at. So disoriented were some that they attempted to cross the Thames on foot. Most remembered to use the bridges provided but others disappeared from view beneath the murky water.

At times we faced lengthy pauses, as our driver attempted to check the documents of those trying to board. I lost count of the number of times prospective passengers slapped their Oyster Card onto his face in an attempt to find the correct method to gain one of the few remaining seats.

During one such delay, a woman sympathetic to our plight ran to the windows, passing bacon sandwiches to grasping hands before waving us a tearful goodbye as we lurched briefly back into motion.

It’s impossible to say when, or even if, we can expect to reach our eventual destination. Please tell my wife and children that I love them. This is Bob Hall for BBC News, somewhere on Marylebone High Street.

Anchor:          Harrowing, harrowing scenes there. Although not from Harrow, obviously. We will continue to keep you up to date with developments as they, errr… develop. In the meantime, please remember to heed the advice of Transport for London and the police and not to travel unless your journey is absolutely necessary, or you’re a reporter for a rolling news channel. Goodnight.

1944

Soft
The voice that bids farewell
Strain
Each sinew to prepare
See
Plans they can never tell
Stride
Where only heroes dare

Board
The vessels to their fate
Bond
Like brothers with their peers
Breathe
Deep, close their eyes and wait
Beach
Charge towards their deepest fears

Loud
The ringing in their head
Long
The day still just begun
Life
Hanging on by a thread
Lead
The battle to be won

Press
On further up the beach
Push
The dark thoughts from their mind
Pray
The Lord, their souls to keep
Pause
For those they leave behind

David Cameron's Easter Sermon

In a change to Easter Sunday tradition, rather than the Pope's message from the Vatican we bring you David Cameron's sermon direct from his holiday home in Lanzarote.

“And I did say, bring unto me your work-shy, your scroungers and your genuinely disabled, that I may tar them all with the same brush and stop their benefits.

Suffer the little children, that St Michael of Gove may send them all to free schools, where they will be taught a curriculum that will be of no use to them, as there are no jobs when they leave.

I did cast the money lenders out of the temple, and tell them to go forth and return with bigger envelopes if they wanted my protection.

For blessed are the donors, that they may set the agenda and dictate the scriptures.

And the saviour was laid in the manger, for his mother was under 25 and therefore not entitled to Housing Benefits.

My father’s house has many rooms, paid for by avoiding the tax collectors. If your house has many rooms, then your benefits shall be cut until you leave.

And thou shalt love thy neighbour, unless you believe them to be an illegal immigrant or benefit thief, in which case thou shalt dob them in.

So blessed are the poor, that we strive to create more of them.

For mine is the kingdom, the power of the Tory. Forever and ever. Amen.

Now fetch the nets, I'll show that bloody jellyfish who's in charge..."

Oh Mr Miliband!

(to the tune of the old music hall standard “Oh, Mr Porter”)


Oh Mr Miliband, what am I to do?
I wanted Grosmann’s pasta sauce, but they only have Ragu
It’s a middle-class crisis, that we’re all going through
Oh Mr Miliband what would your David do?


Oh Mr Miliband, won’t you tell me please?
When will you show us how to fix the country on its knees?
Instead of banging on about machines in bookies shops
Oh Mr Miliband I could slap you round the chops


Oh Mr Miliband, Campbell says that you won’t win
He says you’ll need a deal with Clegg or you’ll be in the bin
Maybe it’s time for you to try and step it up a bit
Cos if you can’t see off Cameron then you really must be sh…


Oh Mr Miliband, you’re losing core support
You’re happy to throw it all away without a second thought
Focus on the many, instead of the wealthy few
Remember Mr Miliband… we’re not all middle class like you.