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Friday 28 August 2020


You do your working in Your working out In
Out In
Out Shake it all about You do the Boris Johnson With the crap you spout That’s what it’s all about Oh the Boris Johnson Oh the Boris Johnson Oh the Boris Johnson Buller! Buller! Ra Ra Ra!

Thursday 27 August 2020


gone off milk

foul and thick

gone off milk

makes me sick

gone off milk

in my bowl

gone off milk

rots my soul

gone off milk

in my cup

gone off milk

might throw up

gone off milk

what a stink

gone off milk

down the sink

gone off milk

make a vow:

I’ve gone off milk

forever now!

Wednesday 26 August 2020


doesn’t want you

to look into her eyes. 

You can marvel at her stance

and the way her tongue flicks

across her fangs;

you can cower at her claws

and the stripes that streak

like poison down her back;

you can even draw up close

to catch her bitter breath

but the tiger doesn’t want you

to look into her eyes


should you do so

you might see nothing more

than another little housecat


      back at you.

Tuesday 25 August 2020


 A debate is currently raging on Twitter about our National Anthem. I think it's something to do with Last Night of the Proms, and people are weighing in on all sides. For my part, I've always hated our anthem. I find it anachronistic and turgid. With this in mind I have decided to rewrite the first verse in order to reflect something that really matters - the threat faced by the live comedy industry in the wake of the pandemic. I only did the first verse because no one knows or cares about any of the other verses. Here goes. 

God save our comedy

Long live our artistry 

God save our laughs

Give it some finances 

Give it some life chances

In this sad circumstance






Sunday 23 August 2020


I stepped into the garden

and I looked up to the sky.

I gasped in sheer wonder

at the things that caught my eye,

for tiny ears and titchy feet

came raining from the clouds

as everyone around me

starting gathering in crowds. 

We gazed in fascination

at the falling legs and arms

and heads with little smiles on

that gleamed like lucky charms.

And after that came eyes and hair

and tummies, bums and noses,

and lots of little fingers

and a ton of teeny toeses.

I couldn’t help but marvel

at life’s majesty and power,

the day I was invited to

my best friend’s baby shower.

Saturday 22 August 2020


Having suffered with anxiety my whole life, a few years ago I diagnosed myself as having OCD. I am now less certain of the necessity to attach a label to the kind of suffering I go through, and feel that, whilst it may be useful in enabling me to have access to some techniques to help me deal with my condition, it also somewhat obscures the fact that I (along with everyone else) am in a unique situation with my own personal set of circumstances. Do labels help or hinder us? I don't know. Maybe both. 

Be that as it may, living with my specific brand of anxiety is like living with a political opponent lodged in my head. Sometimes this opponent masquerades as a true friend, and sometimes it sounds like the bitterest of bullies. It is very hard to differentiate the voice of this opponent from the voice within that represents my authentic self. Given this, I have found, with the help of reading and therapy, that it is to a large extent down to me which voice I wish to identify myself with. A really empowering technique is to write statements in which one gives oneself permission to do, think and say certain things. Wherever one looks one can find evidence to potentially back up the opponent in one's head (I wonder if the internet has contributed to a large degree of mental distress in this respect); what can be very useful is to counteract such 'evidence' using the sheer force of one's will. With this in mind, here are some 'permission statements' I have come up with for myself. I reserve the right to add, delete and amend at will. You can read the list as a poem if you like, but you don't have to. 

I Give Myself Permission To...

be my own expert

think for myself, or not think if I don't want to

accept uncertainty

be wrong sometimes

not do what I don't want to do

pick and choose

love who and how I want

not damage my relationships or be cruel

take risks sometimes

not take risks at other times

live according to my values, not someone else's

not follow advice if I don't want to

be in charge of myself

not be perfect

not listen to voices that seem unkind or punitive

be OK as I am

have it both ways

go against the grain of the mainstream

be a maverick

outfox 'experts'

embrace paradox

give and withhold as I choose

not have all the answers

transcend labels

Friday 14 August 2020

LUCKY PANTS - fun poem and workshop idea


Lucky pants

Wear them tight

Lucky pants

Feel just right

Lucky pants

Make me smile

Lucky pants

Just my style

Lucky pants

Blue and red

Lucky pants

On my head

Lucky pants

While I sleep

Lucky pants

Mine to keep!

Workshop idea: children can have a go at designing their very own artistic lucky pants! Draw them; write stories and poems about the special powers they might have! The possibilities are endless.

Tuesday 11 August 2020


He gives some classic tunes a spin.

He pours himself another gin.

He hauls his feet up with a grin

when the wife’s away.

He hunkers deep within his cave.

He doesn’t shower, doesn’t shave.

He heats stuff in the microwave

when the wife’s away. 

He farts and burps and has a smoke.

He’s quite the simple, happy bloke

enjoying freedom from the yoke

when the wife’s away.

But deep within the still of night

the starry silence starts to bite. 

He grabs his pillow, hugs it tight

when the wife’s away.

Tuesday 4 August 2020

'FOR ART'S SAKE' - a poem for artists and creatives during lockdown


Let’s raise a glass and make a shrine

to all the content dumped online

since Covid came and made us see

we need to offer stuff for free. 

Those webinars and videos

and footage from our gigs and shows

now frankly can’t be done without. 

Let’s give them gratis! Hand them out!

For can’t you tell? The multitude

just craves our craft; it would be rude

to make them pay for what we do!

And so our skill we cough and spew

and splash across the internet.

This simple truth let’s not forget:

to charge a smidgen would be rash

for the world needs our art

more than we need its cash.

So let’s raise a glass and make a shrine

to all that content dumped online.

It lies inert and ossifies

but, unlike us, it never dies.

Monday 3 August 2020


During my MA

he told us

that a good poem

needs to have

some kind of turn

some kind of twist

some kind of volte-face

just before


its conclusion. 

I didn’t believe it then

and I still don’t.