round every corner's a food bank

but what about people like me?

my table creaks with provisions,

I'm never short of salmon for tea

its a love bank my heart needs

somewhere to nourish my soul,

fill my breast with fondant fancies

its been far too long on the dole

I dream of hot charitable staff

eager women dressed to kill,

piling my basket with promise

red ...

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Retraining Bert

Chefing is not what it used to be

His boss called him in and explained.

'We're now on tier 3 says the edict,

and boozers like this have to close.'

'No boss, we're exempt,

like the 'Spoons have been told.

We sell grub and that's kosher

just the ale house is doomed.'

'It won't work like that lad,

the punters are scared.

And I can't serv...

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Drugs.  Addiction –

back by popular demand.

A way to end the boredom,

spoil another day.

Broke.  Aflliction,

living second hand.

Last two quid for the ‘leccy' box

in a load of rusty change.

No!  Distinction,

frustrated as one can.

Can’t entertain all the time

and have constructive ideas.

Beliefs.  Predictions,

all letters in the sand.

Want to know the futu...

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AGY

More empty promises from the likes of you agency liars.

Carve up the job market with a promise of work.

Little do we know how you have wrecked this industry.

And it’s all monkey work, I’ve seen a monkey do a better

Job than you! Move brown boxes from A to B in a futile

Effort for a bit of pocket money, no hard cash here.

Empty promises and sugar-coate...

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Once-upon-a-time, a barman worshipped the Sun.

Worked nights so didn’t see much of it

but in his head he’d got stories of

the Fire God supreme,

Blaze Lord,

vanquishing monsters who'd eat out your dreams.

He called the Sun ‘Hero’,

believed it had six pairs of arms,

giant wings of flame

and the handsomest nose in the galaxy.

Made moons blush

and g...

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