The glass slipper is no good, neither is

the Fairy Godmother's wand, her spells,

the pumpkin, rat, lizard, rags, Stepsisters,

Prince and newly released Disney DVD.

They'll all superfluous.

What Cinderella wants is gold

but in the Kingdom everything's silver -

the clouds that consciously weep,

the glow of herring and mackerel,

rails marking the limits of disorder,

abandoned dust, ti...

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Tonight is the 37th of the tour and there are only two dates left. They've taken a week off

halfway through to appear on the radio with Jools Holland, record In The Bleak Midwinter

for BBC4, and just to chill out because playing somewhere new each night is just as hard

as mining three miles underground or drinking six pints of Newcastle brown each night.

Sisters Rachel and Becky (who was ...

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I have a lead covered with rhinestones and at the end of the lead is a piano and bass.

They're playing a boogie and the rhythm

leaches into me, takes over my muscles makes them so relaxed I think they've taken

a package holiday to the Canary Islands.

When I shuffle along I could easily be mistaken for a dancer, a salsa not a ballet dancer,

and when I talk I pause after 12 bars

a...

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i.m. Ivor Cutler (1923-2006)

Someone said they were dreaming outside

they were slumped over a cup of coffee

and it was milky and sweet

and the day smelt of suntan lotion

Someone said they were sitting on a bench

they were under a umbrella

and they saw a man wearing short trousers

and it was Mr Cutler beside a bicycle

Someone said they had a mint with their latte

they wanted to ...

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Squatting on the edge of stage these four Koreans

cradle their hour-glassed shaped drums before performing

a rock drum solo that would not disgrace those

by Keith Moon, Jon Bonham, Neil Peart or Ginger Baker

with their hands alive in the air, dancing like flowers. Afterwards

they're drained, retire between the 30 odd unpronounceable instruments

for a sushi (Aldershot is well known...

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Friday nights my parents retired

at nine and I stayed up till late to see

On The Braden Beat fronted by a square

jawed Canadian. One night Jake Thackray

played his guitar and sung about

his bantam cock thrusting his attention

on wild eyed hens, hysterical turkeys,

ducks, geese and a visiting migrant swan.

I was thirteen and saw the beautiful

Peter Cook with his extravagant grey ha...

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 At the Montreal Comedy Festival he opened with the line ”Hello, moose fuckers” followed with “I'll tell you why I hate Canada: half of you speak French and the other half fucking let them.” He was promptly attacked by a member of the audience.

There's must be some mistake. He's the 15th greatest standup

but he's aggressive, tasteless, racist, sexist and smells,

has a face like a soggy foot...

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I'm cool about it

but decide to hang around.

Everyone's so sad,

there's a chandelier of tears in the sky,

cars wipe their eyes

and streets hide their faces.

I'm cool about it

but smell almonds.

It's weird seeing myself

dressed in waistcoat and tux

lying in a coffin

and my face being shaved of three days growth.

I'm cool about it

but overhear friends say

I was an ordin...

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it says carrier bags make me nervous

it says I dream of birdseed hanging

above gnomes and a lake of roses

it says the breakdown won't help

it says I'm waiting for something

better to come along, like another day

it says love is a valley of dead things

it says I can withstand high winds

and aren't afraid of grotesque stones

it says I can strain myself in a bad way

it says so...

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It's my wedding anniversary and I catch the early morning train to work.

An hour later I'm walking along a corridor, into my office on the 13th floor

and I think I must be in trouble as my boss is standing by the door.

He says, You'd better go back home. The Doctor's with your mother.

Next thing I know I'm sitting on the blue seat of a train that's pulling

out from Waterloo Station. Opp...

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Black olives, the uneasy strokes of water

are a catwalk to the promised land

where jazz bands sing above the reeds.

Weeds display a roll of parking tickets

and wear cricket boxes like clouds

bowing to the horizon of mother's eyes.

On the volcanic island a table cloth

is moth-eaten like a street of rage

and two men in a cage block

the smiling light. Tonight, trampled by horses,

...

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and he went round and round a boating lake

and he was shouting I'm going to die, I'm going to die

and he came a weedy third in a Tarzan competition

and it was at a holiday camp in Bognor

and his voice broke while singing in the choir

and it was at Guildford Cathedral

and he passed a girl's school each morning

and they came to the fence to chant his name

and he had shoulder length hair

...

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I can't believe myself back then.

I was with a dozen other would be poets

attempting to become the real deal.

One afternoon as I was walking along

the outside terrace I noticed a committee

meeting was taking place in the library

and looking through the window I saw

one of it's members was Poet Laureate.

He was eating Garibaldi and Bourbon biscuits

and when he finished put ...

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LOUISIANA RED AND MICHAEL MESSER AT THE WEC 22 APRIL 2009

Just mention the names

of the people Red's played with

Muddy Waters, Lighting Hopkins,

Arthur Crudup or his stories

about Robert Johnson or Skip James

he's a walking encyclopaedia of the blues.

Behind Red, hanging like Armani suits,

were five acoustic guitars. The first

one's mother died when it was seven

days old; others...

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is at Kelvingrove Art Gallery

and Museum at the end

of a colonnaded gallery,

and lit by two halogen lights.

I had to kneel to see properly

those clean lines

and unresolved perspective

of Scotland's favourite painting.

Looking up I could see Christ

stripped of blood,

minus the Crown of Thorns,

pus and those eternal cries.

But I couldn't decide how

that hanging cross signa...

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When I stayed in Rhossili ten years ago

I walked from St Mary's Church

down limestone cliffs to the Goat's Hole

where the Reverend William Buckland unearthed

the red ochre dyed skeleton of a Roman Lady

(who he thought must have been a prostitute)

left in limestone cave of the Goat's Hole

and who now can't possibly be with God.

A few years ago he appeared in my dreams

carrying a mammo...

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Some foods are supposed to come in the one colour

and when they're not it feels just wrong, like touring

the city centre seeing an iguana stuck up a tree or four

legs tied with orange tape or shadows with leather pouches

looking after themselves or a six foot tall naked courgette

or my Father lying like a sharp Mafioso in the funeral parlour.

Take green beer. I know it's regular beer w...

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He blames the movement of plates including

the Amurian, Bird's Head, Caroline, Easter,

Kula, Manas, North Bismark, Cocos, Nazia,

Juan de Fuca and Scotia.

They've been slipping and sliding where

he lives: whole roads have disappeared

from the map and found in distant boroughs;

shops have disappeared

chains like Woolworths, Adams and MFI

and the local butcher, camera, sport, flor...

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When I stayed in Rhossili ten years ago

I walked from St Mary's Church

down limestone cliffs to the Goat's Hole

where the Reverend William Buckland unearthed

the red ochre dyed skeleton of a Roman Lady

(who he thought must have been a prostitute)

left in limestone cave of the Goat's Hole

and who now can't possibly be with God.

A few years ago he appeared in my dreams

carrying a mammo...

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It was Friday night after 10. Only

taxis and buses prowl the Reading Streets.

On my way to the station my steps

tell me that story about a lovesick

Russian Count and the aim of his affection,

Natasha, who would shoot him in the last line

of the poem. I was passing bars and clubs

where bouncers stood like crows in black overcoats

joking about small brutalities

and the power they ...

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Jill remembers 11 August 1999

when the moon stood before the sun.

She remembers the time, 11:15 am

how light rippled through the air

how the moon stood before the sun

how it became cold as night

how light rippled through the air

how dew swallowed the grass

how it became cold as night

how trees wore dresses of printed moons

how dew swallowed the grass

how street lights turned th...

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JERRY SADOWITZ AT THE WEST END CENTRE 10 DECEMBER 2008

There's been a mistake. He's the 15th greatest standup

but I think he's a cunt, a circumcised fucking Scottish cunt,

face like a soggy football, hair like ink stained worms

and a top hat stolen from some twat in Oliver.

I wish this man anal fissures, asthma, bleeding gums,

constipation, fungus covering internal organs, gout,

kidne...

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