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Here's a poem I wrote a while ago, I never realised that in time it would become dated so I've decided to push it before it becomes redundant after the next election.

I even considered changing my vote so I could use it for longer, but, as I'm working class, northern, short and slightly over weight they have deemed that i can only have one vote.

So here it is...

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This is a recording of my poem Deansgate Bridge. It gives a very brief account of something i witnessed a number of years ago that left an impression on me.

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Recorded at Cuckoo Calling 29/1/15. 

transcripts on earlier blog entries

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Possibly the best comedy on TV is to be found late night/early morning on the shopping channels...if you've never watched then I suggest you take and evening out of your life and dedicate it to this pursuit.

 Last night a crazy dream came to me,

I dreamt I bought a comfortable settee.

When I sat down the very next day,

All the springs on the bottom gave way.

I guess i...

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I lingered at the door,

What the hell do I do?

I’d never found it difficult to buy myself a brew.

So, in I went,

hell bent on doing this thing.

I queued by the food and stewed.

I reached the altar,and the man in black addressed me.

'Sir?'

I think his name was Ed.

 I said

‘Can I have a pot of tea?’

In a foreign twang I thought he said

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