‘I will not Drink in Wetherspoon’s’ by Andy Humphrey, a post-referendum poem written in the style of Dr Seuss, is the new Write Out Loud Poem of the Week. Andy is compere at The Speakers Corner in York, has published two collections of poetry, and works with vulnerable people who are homeless or facing that fate. He also blogs irregularly at The Poet's Soapbox - and says there is a satirical streak in his poetry that he "can't quite suppress". He answered Write Out Loud’s questions:

 

Is poetry an important part of your life and can you remember when and why it became so?

Poetry has been an important part of my life ever since I was tiny. Somewhere between Brian Cant's rendition of Wilma Horsbrugh's ‘The Train to Glasgow’, and my mum's haunting recitation of Edward Lear's ‘The Dong with a Luminous Nose’ when I was barely more than a toddler, I caught the bug. I didn't start actually writing the stuff until I was a student in the 1990s. The Catholic chaplain at my university ran a group where we'd sit round, drink silly quantities of cheap red wine, and read poetry to one another - and some of the group were brave enough to share their own writings. I tried out a few of my own, they seemed to be appreciated, and it all sort of went downhill from there ...

 

What kind of poetry do you write?  What motivates you?

I think I write to try and make sense of stuff that's happening around me. Most of my output is a lot more serious than this poem, and is heavily influenced by nature, folklore and fairy tales. But there's a satirical streak in me that I can't quite suppress. In my day job I work with vulnerable people who are homeless or facing homelessness, and that makes me all too painfully aware of the mess that austerity politics has left people in. I don't often write quite so overtly about it, but it's a subject that keeps creeping in, even when I'm writing nature poetry or reinterpreting fairy tales.

 

If you could only have one poet’s work to read, which one would you choose?

Oh, that's bloody difficult to answer! Yeats perhaps, or Roger McGough - or George Mackay Brown, I'm in absolute awe of his prose writing and he produced such a massive back catalogue of poetry that I don't think I would ever get bored.

 

Do you perform your work and if so, what advice would you give to other young poets like yourself just starting out?

I perform whenever I can. I'm a regular at the open mics of North Yorkshire, and have been MC at The Speakers' Corner in York for most of its 10-plus-years’ existence. For me, poetry is naturally at home in pubs and at firesides, and has a heady, hedonistic quality to it - those early university experiences were very formative for me!

 

You're cast away on a desert island. What's your luxury?

One of those wind-up radios, so that I'd always have music and a connection to the outside world.

 

 

I WILL NOT DRINK IN WETHERSPOON'S

 (with apologies to Dr Seuss)

by Andy Humphrey

I will not drink in Wetherspoon’s.
The place is run by Tory loons
and Boris Johnsonesque buffoons.
I will not drink in Wetherspoon’s.

I will not eat your fish and chips
nor heed your economic tips.
I’d rather throw them all in skips.
I will not eat your fish and chips.

I will not eat your five-bean chilli
or all-day brunch with Piccalilli.
To do so would be really silly.
I will not eat your five-bean chilli.

I will not join your curry club
nor sample any of your grub.
I’ll find myself another pub.
I will not join your curry club.

I will not drink in Wetherspoon’s.
I’ll stay at home and watch cartoons,
eat ginger cake and macaroons
but never drink in Wetherspoon’s.

I must respectfully decline
to try your cider or your wine.
Your values are way out of line
so I’ll respectfully decline.

I will not now imbibe those beers
that I’ve enjoyed for many years.
I’ll leave them for the Brexiteers.
No, I’ll no longer drink your beers.

I will not even taste your gin.
It’s tainted with your UKIP spin.
It reeks of treachery and sin.
That’s why I have to spurn your gin.

I’d never spend my honeymoon
imbibing drinks in your saloon.
I’d rather go to Cameroon.
So up yours, J.D. Wetherspoon.