For lots more exciting info about me, please go to my main home -

Tuesday 30 June 2020


It knows the times
you sleep and wake,
and when you work
or take a break,
and every choice
you ever make —
the internet is watching. 

It clocks the things
you say and do,
with prying eyes
it spies on you
and launches a
surveillance coup —
the internet is watching.

It tracks you with
its laser sight,
observing you
both day and night.
Forever trapped,
you can’t take flight —
the internet is watching. 

Its pincers poke
inside your brain;
You can’t opt out,
you can’t abstain,
so mind your step
and don’t complain —

the internet is watching.

Sunday 28 June 2020



Wankers on the beach
They’re streaming in
Cheek to cheek
With peeling skin
Rammed and crammed
And jammed like hogs
Wobbling bellies
Screaming sprogs

Wankers on the beach
In all their glory
Clapping nurses
Voting Tory
Spreading germs
And leaving mess
Sun and stupor

Wankers on the beach
Don’t give a stuff
Sod all this
They’ve had enough
Fast and loose
And not complying
Seize the day?
They’re carpe die-ing.

Saturday 27 June 2020


My wife is an English Teacher, and I am very honoured to be able to share the following poem, written by one of her Year 9 students, in her own time. I hope you are as impressed by Sonia's extremely powerful words as my wife and I were:

What do we have to do? By Sonia Year 9

I don't understand
What we have to do
We’ve screamed and shouted but don’t seem to cut through
The hatred and fear that these politicians hold
They only trust themselves,
don’t listen to what they’re told
Don’t listen to the screams and the sorrows
Don’t listen to the voices of tomorrow
Don’t listen to the people whose power
they have stolen, not borrowed.
I strive to understand for just one day
Understand the racism,
understand the pain
Of being judged every second of your life
Just because of your skin,
just because you’re not white.
And while the politicians try to justify
Every single lie,
try to change our minds
Everyone knows this isn’t a one-time thing
This was the tip of the iceberg,
and now it’s time to sing.
It’s time to stand with the brethren,
who have been taken to heaven
By murderers who murdered kids who were only seven-
Teen, barely starting his life
he was murdered in cold blood.
Zimmerman, i’ve been reconsidering,
it’s pretty disheartening
One bad white man
and trayvon had to fight for his life
This isn’t a joke,
You didn’t have a knife,
You had a gun,
He tried to run
But that country is a mess
Forget the flag, forget the fucking pledge
That piece of human garbage-the president;
is about to be tipped over the edge
No, there isn’t a flaw in the system, the flaw IS the system,
If he’d just sit down and listen
But he can’t.
That man is not a man he is a child.
How can he run our country,
the country is fucked up
And because of it innocent people are dying on its unforgiving hands
In its unforgiving lands
and there’s no going back
The stack has stacked on stack
on stack on stack
It’s about to topple over so

watch your back

Friday 26 June 2020


I just can’t help but rhyme.
I do it all the time. 
I crowbar it into my poems
and sometimes it doesn’t…slime. 

I’m a rhyming kind of guy.
Don’t even ask me why. 
Perhaps I shouldn’t force it though
since everyone says that…pie.

See rhyming is just what I do.
I’m a rhymer through and through. 
I often try to shoehorn it
when people think it's…moo. 

Sometimes it makes no sense
but I can’t sit on the fence,
so I’ll simply go and cram it in
even when I...hence.

Wednesday 24 June 2020


My Buddy

My buddy is an outcast.
Yes, her reputation’s bad.  
Some say she’s superficial,
others claim she drives them mad. 

She gets up people’s noses
and she may be a pariah
but I swear I’ll never leave her
for she’s all that I require. 

My buddy is creative
and she likes to josh about. 
Some say she isn’t serious 
and that she’s lacking clout

but she’s really very loving
as she wraps you in her arms.
Although the masses don’t agree,
I love her quirky charms. 

No, my buddy isn’t popular.
She hasn’t many fans
but she helps me with my reading
and her name is Comic Sans.

Tuesday 23 June 2020



She’s my granny, my nan,
my number one fan,
when I say I can’t do it
she tells me I can.

When I pen a nice rhyme
to deposit online
and no one reacts,
she’ll opine that it’s fine.

She’ll say I’m the best
so I best not get stressed.
With a groupie like her
I confess I am blessed. 

She’s my granny, my nan,
I’m her man, she’s my stan
on Twitter and Facebook
and on Instagram.

Whenever I’m lewd
or I’m crude or a pseud,
she’ll still click on ‘like’
so I feel like a dude.

She don’t know the lingo
or understand slang,
she votes for the people
my verses harangue 

but her love for me?
She can’t help but show it,
for I am her hero,
her grandson: the poet.

Monday 22 June 2020


Along with Catton Grove Primary, St Lawrence CE Primary, in Hampshire, have been regularly getting in touch with me during the lockdown, engaging with the creative activities I have been setting online. One of my recent challenges was to write Maths Poems, in which pupils turn themselves into mathematical equations, as in my poem above. This is a wonderful, cross-curricular activity, which both helps children grasp the fundamentals of mathematics, and explore their own identity. How many more boxes could you possibly want to tick?! Anyway, with this in mind, here are some lovely poems from the pupils of St Lawrence Primary, from right the way across the age range:

Saturday 20 June 2020


Was it because of those pictures of cats?
Was it because I had too many spats?
Was it because of my tinfoil hat?
O, where have my followers gone?

Was it because I support the wrong team?
Was it because I’m a bit too extreme?
Was it because of that old racist meme?
O, where have my followers gone?

Was it because I was giving it large?
Was it because my self-pride’s supercharged? 
Was it because I praised Nigel Farage?
O, where have my followers gone?

Was it because I said BLM sucks?
Was it because I call everyone ‘cucks’?
Was it because I’m an arsehole-deluxe?
O, where have my followers gone?

Perhaps it’s because I make everyone sick.
Perhaps it turns out that I’m simply quite thick.
Perhaps it was just that unwanted dick-pic...
O, where have my followers gone?

Friday 19 June 2020

A poem for Dominic Raab, Foreign Secretary


Dominic Raab
Dominic Raab
Tarted up smart
In his sharp-suited garb


Let us all hope
That his Winter is Coming

on 18/06/20, Dominic Raab embarrassingly and erroneously claimed in an interview that the phrase 'Take The Knee' originated with TV series Game of Thrones

Thursday 18 June 2020



I see
a sea lion
lying in the sea

In fact I see
a trio there
one, two, three

I see
three sea lions
lying by the quay

Can they see
me seeing them?

We’ll just have to see

Where, Wolf?

Where, wolf?
Over there, wolf!

Howling in the meadow
at the moon full-bright

Where, wolf?
Over there, wolf!

Prowling through the forest
in the deep, dark night

Where, wolf?
Over there, wolf!

Crazy flashing eyeballs
and a very hairy back

Where, wolf?
Over there, wolf!

Coming here to get us
and it's ready to attack!

Wednesday 17 June 2020


The fantastic students at Catton Grove Primary school have been regularly engaging with the poetry ideas I have been posting on Twitter and other places during the lockdown. Their teacher Scott recently got in touch with another wonderful batch of poetry, which I am delighted to share on my blog once again. The challenge I set was to pick an emotion, and to describe it using metaphors. They rose to the challenge, and I am excited and honoured to share the following selection of poems:

Anger by Alfie 

Anger is a volcano ready to erupt
Anger is bomb about to blow up
Anger is a flame about to rise up
Anger is a firework about to ignite
Anger is a mum about to shout
Anger is a starving lion
Anger is an aggressive tiger
Anger is a feeling everyone has
Anger is an emotion.

Pride by Jack

Pride is the dragon that swoops up above everyone else.

Pride is that feeling you get allowing you to be above the top of the top.

Pride is the burning feeling inside when you make a masterpiece.

Pride is the sensation of happiness at the expense of others.

Pride is not a bad thing if you know how to use it.

Let pride get the best of you...

Happiness by Julia

Happiness is waking up in the morning with the sun shining through the window.
Happiness is fireworks bursting inside your body when you are filled with joy.
Happiness is the feeling of achievement when you have worked hard on something.
My family and friends bring me happiness.
Happiness is when you slurp down your spaghetti
Happiness is when you see someone that you love open a gift that you spent time making.
Happiness is little kids squealing and giggling when they play.
Laughing until your tummy hurts is a sign of happiness.
You can’t see happiness but we can all share it and enjoy it.

Depression by Vilte

Depression is when you don’t what to live but you’re too scared to die.

Depression is a black windowless room.

Depression is a trap that’s hard to escape from.

Depression is a monster inside your head.

Depression is pain and fear that you can’t take anymore.

Depression eats you alive until you give up.

Depression is torture.

Monday 15 June 2020



Behold the Bunker Baby
in the cradle where he lies. 
He throws his temper tantrums
and emits pathetic cries. 

He will not use his potty.
He’s a snotty little brat.
He eats and tweets and beats his meat
beneath his MAGA hat.

He sucks his pacifier
as his country’s left to rot,
and from his oval orifice
he shits himself a lot.


Sunday 14 June 2020


As a poet, I view myself as a sort of chronicler of the times, and since March there has been a lot to chronicle. As well as the ongoing shenanigans around Covid, we are seeing a seismic shift in views around what is and is not acceptable in the Arts. Sensitivities are currently very high, and programmes such as Little Britain have now been cancelled. One wonders what is going to be next. I feel that, as a poet, I cannot let this moment slide without penning a verse or two about it, so here goes:

Friday 12 June 2020


If self isolation is getting you down
and you’re feeling unloved and alone;
if mornings begin with a scowl and a frown
and your evenings end up with a groan,

there’s a step you can take that will bolster your pride
and rekindle those feelings of worth.
It’s a thing you can do if your ego has died
and your joy’s buried deep in the earth.

It starts with your phone: simply fire it up
now it’s time for a bit of ‘self care’.
When you swallow a sip from your own loving cup
you don’t need to be part of a pair.

So blow your own horn! Toot your own flute!
Yes throw your own doggie a bone!
Take time to delight in your hard labour’s fruit
as you get yourself back in the zone.

Now why do you give me that quizzical look?
Tell sadness to get on its bike!
All I’m saying is this: log into Facebook

and give your own status a ‘Like’.