Donald 'partially-sighted' Pascoe - Just Words and That
90000
9 780244 623371
0282-15
ISBN 978-0-244-62337-1
Donald 'partially-sighted' Pascoe:
Just Words and That
0282doings.blogspot.co.uk
Wonderland
dark clouds cover where I stand opposite from Wonderland in town waiting for the Reedley Hallows bus to pick me up before it really comes down and I'm hardly impressed when out of the grey I'm adroitly addressed; "Are you talkin to me ya cunt or chewin a brick cos either way I'll smash ya bastard teeth" and I frown as the rest of the queue keep their heads right down now I've heard a variation of this imminent altercation before. But only in jest though as cro-magnon man stands tall in his vest smoking I'd bet my billiards he's not joking so as I strive for appropriate assuage to issue a follow-up statement to the initial one I never made in silence that smacks of cowardice he steps forward to conclude the discussion and I take him by surprise by fucking legging it up Curzon Street ---------------
Mum's Dad
a home from Home chair wheeled towards the wall which can't be right outside I sneak him a smoke He used to be this bloke who not that long ago drove me right up Colne Road looking for Panini stickers took me down Tommy's Park in the drizzle with me new casey crawled through nightmares when he were younger than I am now food medals and a cock-eyed shave for his troubles he doesn't mind says the nurse ---------
Home-Made Tattoos
So now that we've all run out of the cider and vodka and beer let's get the needles and the ink out for another sort of sesh What a wonderful idea ----------
You:
Final Act:
"I don't know why ya don't at least try and find yourself a job or something Love?. Maybe look into getting on at night school and learn yourself a trade or what have ya??. Try and make something of your life while you're still young enough".
Me: "My Dear. Accustomed to the cursed dark I never give the light a second thought".
You: "Aye, that's right. Keep talkin' in riddles, smart arse. Well I'll tell ya this for nowt then - If ya think I'm gonna stick about wastin' what life I've got on a no-hoper like you, ya must be off yer fuckin' trolley.
Me: ----------
Flat Cap
For all my sin I'm nearer to God or whatever folk want to call him going through your things they reckon you'd be okay with it but I'm not sure Drawers half-filled with receipts (just in case) and the odd postcard sent from places you never got to see The wardrobe half-empty with familiar clothes fetches my first tears it's the flat cap that sets me off through your dog-eared books putting Grayson aside for myself and looking for answers to them age-old questions I can't for the life in me fathom why there's all these Mills & Boons ------------
Don't Pass, Go
So fair play, full respect, to that Thora Hird, who by all accounts seems like a decent old bird, but she can't hold a candle to Irene Handl. ----------
where there's a Will
me Dad talked some right shit though a good deal of sense also and with me having zero interest in his fiscal affairs I assumed that both these qualities would one day belong to me However when he took leave of this planet the rest of our clan questioned my inheritance claim quite voraciously making it very clear that only 50% of Dads traits were mine to keep ----------
Now Then
As I now trivialise the petty concerns of my youth in a decade or so I will no doubt look back on my current problems in the same light and consider the man I am today as a bit daft and still damp behind the ears getting carried away by my perceived wisdom and forgetting to remember that the me of 20 years from now will do exactly the same thing again when his time comes ----------
Short & Bitter There's a fair bit of pretence up Fence. ---------
Nowt like a Good Book
My mate found The Lord or The Lord found him flicking through a dusty old book on a whim And as it appeared quite a feat though Sci-Fi isn't really up my street, when he implored me to give it a do I dutifully did in starts and fits and I've got to admit that it's ok in bits like that Top 10 Commandments with God's greatest hits but all them preachy parts just got on my tits --------------------
One day a year
Out among the greying slush and brand new second-hand bikes The Christmas Spirit is alive and well grown men who usually wander by without words offer unsolicited Yuletide greetings from across Abel St buoyed by their seasonal pilgrimage to DanesHouse Club echoing smiling sentiments I recall from previous years that will cease again tomorrow. I respond in kind ----------------------
A new Dawn
Tonight was so great the sunrise looks rosy from here homeward bound with friends talking too loud greeting milk men by name lasses on their walk of shame so late it's early Stood here facing the dawn I perceive countless opportunities offering themselves in a day I shall sleep right through ---------------
two feet
and Bailey drops the ball which should have been a goal but it's been disallowed cry the crowd still Ardiles with his head puts Spurs in front instead though Hark!! there astride two generations Akin to the mighty Colossus of Rhodes with One foot in the past the other planted in the future exists Glenn Hoddle's moustache it's cultural significance beyond question ------------------
It's your Funeral The short line of cars creep behind the hearse too slow for some by far, be quicker in reverse passengers sit, heads down, hands in laps A small number of old school passers-by doff their flat caps All out at St Johns then it's on with the show the Vicar talks fondly about a man he didn't know then to sorting the lifts out among the select All back to their house to show our respect A full mantelpiece of white cards say it all fresh flowers on the sideboard, beneath the cross on the wall Uncles make jokes trying to lighten the mood lasses head to the kitchen, to help their Mams out with the food She's done him dead proud and put on a lovely spread ham, cheese, and tuna, on 2 loaves of white bread Spit for polish on best shoes, wearing through at the soles 20 year old frocks on hiatus from moth balls fashions waiting patiently to come back in style threadbare suit lapels wider than a mile a middle-aged comb-over with elaborate thatch young lad in his school shirt with pants to match I can't believe Auntie Margaret, she always looks the same, not like that old bloke in the corner - I can never remember his name it must be 5 years since last time I think tongues start to loosen as food turns to drink a few cans are cracked and it starts to get going, and picks up a bit more when ale really starts flowing Then all cuddles and kisses, with those known since year dot Old stories trawled out yet again, old Differences forgot So-and-so's mortified he couldn't be here, but these days he works at night I mean I suppose he's lucky to still have a job, ya know it isn't right, talk of Tories and their ilk, and how now they're stealing kiddies milk, and how they'll not be happy til they run us all into t'ground, Lament the death of the working man, and how things need to turn around.....
.....Fuelled on jam butties & bottles of pop, whippersnappers nip about until they're shouted at to stop the photo album comes out, memories older than they seem cooing over faded images of Loves young dream most cogs now well oiled, more start to join the fun Kipper tie noose now loose, top few buttons undone We'll get together again right soon, this time I swear to God, Before another of our throng goes under the sod You know we've shifted all that drink, I mean it beggars belief, The house supped dry, the fellas sneak up to t'WheatSheaf. for a quick one in there, then down to t'Dragoon or what?, Finally back to t'Daneshouse for last orders; double Benny and hot The women left to clear up, the kids now flat out from their peak Give me a funeral over a wedding any day of the week all comes to a close just as quickly as it started silence fills the air, Life and soul now dearly departed though less than peaceful, the house lays quietly bare And she sits there on her own, next to his empty chair. ----------
Medallion Man
Takin the piss is almost too easy wi this clown Talk about a clichĂŠ I mean Look at all his hair Look at all his Gold Look at his tan Look at his muscles Look at his complicated shoes Look at his fat wallet Look at his flash car Look at all t'local dolly birds fallin over 'emselves to shag his pea-brains out I don't get it. Twat. ----------
All that
Schooled by shouts and the fist invisible from year one far from clean socks out the toe end of old shoes delapidated soles and all that. the allure of piss-stained blankets distant dreams of escape. You'll live here til you fucking die you know breakfast in name only sterilised milk from a backyard wall 13 streets away old before its time sarcastic cupboards telly for tea though. All you can eat programmed for failure and all that. late nights. That's another good thing eh? dissolved hope and all that. judged for unhappiness upto no good whatever that means the same old story masquerading as your own age-old mistakes and all that. parents still kids trying to make a do of it in the beginning anyway The straw that broke something just marking time and all that School by shouts and the fist ----------
Downwardly Mobile
Unhappy days unable to warrant their gaze unspoken words fall on deaf eyes Cut right down to size viewed unfairly, as he views them up Trafalgar flats, down what's left of The Irish Park and sent on his way, with advice regarding leagues ringing in his ear ----------
SkinHead
On Elm Street Mill wall, by the side of the painted-on goalposts, there's an array of graffiti, and one of the small posts raises concerns about what they're learning up at Barden School. In very legible form it says 'WOGS OUT', and 'PAKI BASHERS RULE'. It's their handwriting that worries me most says me Dad, as it suggests its the work of an intelligent lad and they're the ones you've really got to look out for; I wonder if it's that SkinHead who lives next door.
'NIGGERS GO HOME' is another short tome that makes me Old Man's forehead crease. He furrows his brow, and he says to me How?. Can we get all these wankers to cease purporting all this bullshit, I mean they sound like right fucking Nobs, with their "Well they come over here, taking all of our jobs..." They breed fear and contempt, and it'll come to no good, quoting that Twat Enoch Powell, and his 'Rivers of Blood'. Then right above that, in letters Bold and Big, 'IF A COW'S BORN IN A STY DOES IT MAKE IT A PIG? 4 letters follow that: N-O and NF then there's more by the same hand down low to the left, More nasty nonsense, words etched onto brick, that states 'ALL YOU CANAL BRIDGE GAY LORDS CAN SUCK MY BIG DICK'. Me Dad says to that, by way of abatement, I wonder if the author saw the irony of his statement?. I'll wager a tenner he didn't,and he doesn't know the score. I'll bet you it's that SkinHead that lives next door.
Then this lad strolls along, crew cut bleached to the roots crisp turn-ups on his jeans expose his immaculate boots 15-hole Doctor Martens, adorned with bright yellow laces, claret Fred Perry buttoned right to the top, pale blue elastic braces. He kneels on the pavement, covering a stretch with some rag, Takes two litres of Dulux from out of his bag Prises the lid off his tin, and gets stuck right in. Stirs the paint with a stick then lays it on brick. Quick and thick. All over the words that've made us sick.
He works quickly and quiet, with the sweat of his brow. All the hate that lies there white-washed over for now. Then he outlines the goal posts much more brighter than before and me Dad just stares in silence at that SkinHead who lives next door ----------
Reach for the stars
Middle-aged by 19 toddlers in tow dreams of mortgages and a moustache feet up beside the fire table cloth more than one suit unnecessary ties hard work but two out of seven int bad early nights weekly pint monthly how's yer father You Wish. ----------------------
Walter
theres some who call him Snake Face I'm not sure what that's about though assume its on account of how his tongue darts in and out while he's picking up fag ends off the bus station floor docker-picker one more moniker and that's what for Eyes always to the deck for an errant B&H or 5p so call him what you will but he's Walter to me ----------
Upstairs Down What will Heaven be like then Father? What would you want it to be like child? You mean I get to choose?? Well all the people you love will be there for starters and you can eat your favourite food there every day
Everything will be as you want it to be I like the sound of that Father
But what if I want things to be different from everybody else who's up there?? What happens then Father???
That's enough of That.
Up Pendle
Looking down from up Pendle if you follow the cut back from the straight mile round past DanesHouse bridge you can see the gas tower Just round the corner from our house streets I still hate to Love for now anyway conflicted by most feelings as I view my existence outlined with such simple parameters greatly limited beyond their potential It all looks so tiny from here ----------
UFO
Walking home down the ash pad one evening after dark I saw a flying saucer over Barden Park hovering atop the big slide next to the umbrella ride the rocking horse was bathed in light from on high it stayed there a few seconds then shot off into the sky.
And I thought: That's unusual. ----------
Desperate Dan
I first saw you outside t'Broadswords wi some lad having a row and I've clocked you round Duke Bar for a few month now I'd give anything to know you but I don't know how please just think about it
If you need saving then I'll be your hero drive you round in my taxi like Robert De Niro keep my meter switched off so your fare would be zero please just think about it
we can stay here together wi nowhere else to go and we can't go out anyway cos I've never any dough You've no need to say yes just don't tell me no Please just think about it ----------
Our George is a Saint
PROUD to be English PROUD of what exactly it doesn't matter God save the Queen I mean it mate raise my glass and celebrate my Right as an Englishman to stand up tall on this day and applaud our very own St George this middle-eastern bloke famed for his mythical battle with some dragon and all that and everything he stands for there'll always be an England Jerusalem indeed a Land of Glory and Hope where jingoism melts right into xenophobia I mean you can't say anything these days no longer white and tatty round the edges I fly my old Flag with unwavering pride and mistakenly don my Union Jack shorts ----------
Dear Sir / Madam,
Kind to be Cruel
As you may have realised, some of your property is missing. I considered it criminal to add insult to injury so you'll notice I have neglected to smash anything or daub unsavoury sentiments onto your wall like some of my contemporaries might. I recently heard of a house-breaker who favours the Worsthorne area who has developed a penchant for defecating in children's beds if you can imagine such a thing. I understand he also uses some kind of sharp instrument (a razor perhaps?) to inflict damage on hosiery and various soft furnishings. One can only assume that he has considerable psychological issues and hope he is able to access the requisite support.
To assist you with any insurance claims (assuming you ARE insured - Ha Ha!), the items I have relieved you of number thus;
1 black & white television (portable) 1 steam iron 1 pocket calculator (batteries included) Monies amounting to ÂŁ13.73 found located in ceramic jar atop your kitchen cupboard (I have left ÂŁ5 in said jar in case of emergency).
I also neglected to take 3 rings, a pendant necklace, and a brooch that I found in the bottom drawer of the cabinet in the master bedroom. Their proximity to a selection of old photographs suggested the jewellery to be of some sentimental value; I hope this is not an oversight on my part.
I have also taken a small selection of foodstuffs; Baked Beans (2 tins) Custard Creams (1 open packet) a dozen tea-bags (approx) small bunch of bananas
I truly hope that this intrusion has no caused undue distress beyond the obvious. My actions were not pre-meditated and were carried out through desperation and necessity.
I sincerely wish you all the very best for the future x ----------
Straw Clutching
you're not too big I'm not too clever coupling on the never-never with no interest in rent to buy but to tell the truth that's a lie Now lets be honest Is it too late for me to say that I love You but just as a mate. Fuck me I only asked ----------
Before After
while idly rooting through your drawers in search of a light and some cigarettes I find a note what you wrote next week telling me what we've found is not what you seek so you're doing one And I start missing you now even though you've not gone Yet if bookies took buttons I'd bet that our balloon's about to burst so when you get home I get my retaliation in first ------------------------------
charity ends at home
fucking do your bit put your hand in your pocket rent ease for your conscience cough up karma for your soul And do a bit of good while you're at it No food No water. No Johnnies says the lad at the back more like monkeys than men says the fellow at the front who normally means well treating symptoms while cures continue to elude papering over the cracks back home there's plenty without none so you can start by finishing your tea she says exhibiting a keen awareness of current affairs Well send it to them then I respond ducking
----------
22.12.79
Everyone round here knows that family by name at least Holier than thou in most senses of The Word high atop horses ecclesiastical and moral casting judgement silent or not on most local activity so it's little surprise when on the day Barden Infants break up for Christmas my mates' 6 year old tells me how he was chastised in the yard without provocation by their obsequious progeny regarding his belief in Santa Claus mercilessly ridiculed in front of his peers until his bottom lip started to go forced to retort by faulting his aggressor for believing in Jesus 'And how did that go down then?'. he advises of his triumph; 'He were crying but I never'. There is a pause then as we both reflect on his actions before he adds; 'Will I still get some presents?'. ---------------------
Ward 21
As Old Bill shoves him through the doors, the nurses give him the daggers Madness doesn't run in his family, it swaggers slowly and surely with a cock-sure walk it circles their bodies like an outline of chalk By the look of the staff he's just ruined their day, and though he'll get a rough time of it, tough. So will they. They can't break him if he's already broke. He laughs too loud for too long though they laugh last, that's the joke. With so little real insight his outlook is dim He gives them the needle. Then they give it him. if you're angry or upset, don't be mad enough to show it. The white coats run things in here, and don't they know it. If you shout; you're schizophrenic, if you cry you're depressed, and of course in the end they know what's best Once a week you get a chance to speak your mind and what's in it, and as a rule you get in there and have less than a minute before they're talking over you about how they're upping your meds and putting you on your bike cos they're getting short of beds They've next to no interest in your pain and your sadness So it's off out the door. Back to the real fuckin madness ----------
The Big Match
The regular Saturday night kip at Dad's place with me brother the traditional Match of the Day on hiatus due to International concerns and with no live coverage of England's game on telly we all agree to swerve the result and enjoy the edited highlights together as a family or whatever Convene at 10.15pm we agree Buoyed by our commitment to each other. Tied together in several ways. When the time comes we take our regular seats. If you don't want to know the score look away now says that bloke on the news in such time-honoured tradition. My old man shuts his eyes and I quickly follow suit. All is good in Devonshire Road, Burnley, Lancashire, The World. Then our Kid pipes up: "oh Fuck. We've got beat". And Dad gives an inhuman response that causes next door's Alsatian to really go for it. ----------
I Know Reels
Now is the season for Love not Hate They're Here with Good reason Perhaps I could be their Mate Friendship on my Sleeve I try and do my bit to ensure a warm welcome but in return just take a Hit Vitriol pours out of Gobs "...they're destroying all we worked for..." (like WE ever had Jobs) "their race swarm in with increasing pace coming down here and invading Our space" words I can't understand though they persist so I offer my Hand instead of My fist now they know I'm here they can't ignore me still on the offensive thanks to those who came before me I'm clearly wasting my time when they're being so mean and as a saucer flies by at the top of the screen the guy stood next to me itching to stick in his 10p wears a shit-eating smirk so I just pretend that the buttons don't work --------------------
Mildew
Mildew and make believe exist here side by side weighing up who'll come out on top without prizes - just for pride 'No Future' said Johnny trying to make a dent I wouldn't say I agree with him but I know what he meant. ----------
UTC
On the Longside last Satday, there were quite a to-do, When a black man wearing yellow fouled a white man in claret & blue There's the usual outcry after such a kerfuffle, and our calls for a red card are met with rebuffal Then in response a lone voice behind me sings out, and like wildfire spreads a hearty chorus rings out; "YOU BLACK BASTARD. YOU BLACK BASTARD. YOU BLACK BASTARD. YOU BLACK BASTARD". Some jump up and down while they scream it and shout it, and not one of us 'real' fans do nothing about it Though we outnumber these numbskulls by 50-1, our silence is deafening. Our bottle is gone. Ashamed by my apathy, with a face like fire I put my head down and cross through the boundary of the choir. Though most of the singers clearly pass for right wingers it causes me tremendous alarm at the number of normal looking blokes who have no qualm about acting like that in front of their young lads Who in time join in and all to be just like their Dads Finding solace in the Bee Hole End, distant from danger I start saying my piece now, to a like-minded stranger; 'The FA or whoever need to start enforcing bans, and they should consider fining the clubs, so they'll have to snuff out these so-called-fans Everybody should do much more to clear these fascists from the crowd I know their numbers might be relatively few, but they shout so very loud....
....the longer we leave it, the more it'll get out of hand Why don't some of our players start the ball rolling, and make some kind of a stand That'd do it I reckon, get the backing of our big names And get Nobby Noble, or Dobbo, or maybe Leighton James to do an interview wi t'Burnley Express, and make it very clear That enough's enough and how they've had it up to here, Tell the fascist thugs to get on their bike, One of them should say something like; "Now you'll have to bare with me, cos I'm speaking quite bluntly and I know that most of our fans are among the finest in the country, But there's a few there on the terrace who want to fill our club with shame So we want to speak out about the ugly side of our beautiful game It might only be a small per cent, but that dunt make it reight and most of them are probly popped-up bully boys just looking for a feight, It's not enough they're in the vast minority, it's not acceptable if there's any, and if there's only one idiot ont Turf doing a monkey chant then that's one too many. So if you're gonna boo these lads cos of their colour or whatever, then just carry on as normal with your 'No Nay Never..', then you can boo me as well when the ball comes near me, Cos I think that you're scum, and I don't want ya to cheer me No wonder most of the sides you see are almost all white, And by us not doing anything about it, it's like we're saying its all right Some teams have just one or two black players in, and at times it seems like a token, and if you're looking for any Pakistanis on the pitch, well you must be fucking joking, But we want everyone to come and get involved, it's the people's sport after all, And no-one should have to take shit over a game, even if it is Football So crack down with zero tolerance or else we'll have no club left. That's it really, Up the Clarets. Down with the NF". Having said my bit, I take my baccy out, and start to roll a smoke. "Yeah, right. It'll never happen", says the bloke. ----------
Et tu Brute? "What YOU lookin at?. Ya queer fuckin twat. I'll kick yer fuckin head in. Simple as that". ----------
Not needed
You don't need me; Like a decent hanky needs to be made out of silk, Like a bowl of corn flakes could do with some milk Like Leiber needs Stoller, like a vicar needs an inordinate amount of faith to be able to carry out his role in a fitting and appropriate manner. Like the Incredible Hulk needs Bruce Banner Like Tommy and Bobby need Cannon and Ball, like Alvy Singer needs Annie Hall Like a photo needs a locket, like a cold hand needs a pocket Like them gardens need gnomes, like Watson needs Holmes Like Miss Piggy needs Kermit the Frog, like a constipated fella needs to go to the bog Like a spoilt little brat needs old Daddy dear, like Estragon needs Vladimir Like a pinball table needs a decent flipper, like Dennis the Menace's Dad needs to give him a good talking to, to help him understand the consequences of bullying those who hold different values from his own. Like Gnasher needs a bone. Like a high jumper needs the Fosbury flop, like the playground railings need a small errant glove atop, Like Frodo needs Sam, Like Pebbles needs Bam-Bam, Like Nick o'Teen needs a fag, like the South Bank show needs proper recognition for its attempts to bring more culture to the viewers of ITV. Like Bernard Manning needs to be more P.C. Like Minnie Mouse needs her Mickey, Like the lasses down Burnley need to be a bit less picky, Like vinegar needs salt, like my backyard gate needs a bolt Like an open window needs a thief, like Mick needs Keef Like Zippy needs George, like cheddar needs a gorge Like a pot needs tea. You don't need me;
Like a baby needs a bottle, like a biker needs a throttle Like small boys need to be naughty, like Sancho Panza needs Don Quixote Like a trifle needs sherry, like Arthur needs Terry Like bees need a hive, like a bus driver needs to barely acknowledge your existence as you tentatively hand him your fare. Ooh I'm so important, look at me driving this bus. Look at me daft moustache, and me stupid fuckin transparent comb-over that'd put Bobby Charlton to shame. I mean aren't I the big man then eh?. Like bus drivers need to stop being so arsey, Like Elizabeth Bennett needs Fitzwilliam Darcy, Like Bialystock needs Bloom, Like a bedsit needs more room, Like a monkey needs a banana, like Han Solo needs Leia Organa Like a porn addict needs proper dirt, like Ernie needs Bert Like a dancer needs to dance a lot, like Guinevere needs to make her mind up, and for good. Like Noah needs a flood Like an arc needs a welder, like F Scott needs Zelda Like the sky needs the sea. You don't need me;
like a square needs a root, like James Galway needs a flute like a hangman needs a noose, like a bully needs an excuse like Wotsits need to be ever-so cheesier, like finding a rhyme here needs to be easier like disenfranchised youth need to vote, like Maggie and her ilk need a wooden overcoat Like a fool needs romance, like Butch needs Sundance Like Walking boots need hikes, like cyclists need some arsehole in a lorry trying to force you into the gutter. Like toast needs butter Like motorists need to be behind the wheel, like Lois Lane needs her Man of Steel Like a starving artist needs a fee. You don't need me;
Like Madonna needs her child, like my Grandad needs his pint of mild Like morning after memories need to be less hazy, like Gatsby needs Daisy Like a weaver needs a bobbin, like Batman needs to understand that all the super villains that plague Gotham City turned up after he did so what does THAT say about vigilantism? EH?? Like the Joker needs to joke, like a smoker likes a toke Like a horseshoe needs a horse, like anti-biotics need to run their course, Like Laurel needs Hardy, like Val Doonican needs a decent cardy Like a dosser needs somewhere to doss, like a centre-forward needs a decent cross Like a ghost story teller needs a spooky fable, like Vivienne Leigh needs Clark Gable, Like a and b need c. You don't need me;
Like an umbrella needs rain, like a commuter needs a train. Like feet need socks, like Pandora needs her box. Like bacon needs eggs, like a millipede needs legs Like a hamster needs its wheel, like an orange needs its peel Like a sentiment needs feeling, like a room needs a ceiling Like a dreamer needs a dream, like a supporter needs a team Like an archaeologist needs bones, like an ice cream man needs cones Like an artist needs an easel, like a lorry needs diesel Like the weasel needs his pop, like a shoplifter needs a shop Like the King of the road needs an old stogey, like Bergman needs Bogey Like a stamp needs a letter, like a bowl of Greek olives need a nice bit of feta, Like my poems really need to start getting much better Like the brown-fingered baker kneaded a poo. Like I need you. ----------
The Week we called it a Day
The week we called it a day came as little surprise Me fed up with your honesty You've heard too many of my lies so the time must be right now that everything's gone wrong We've been kidding ourselves for much too long agreed on something at last it's time to say our goodbyes I'm not a winner and you're no prize but how can the one thing I possess become the only thing I lack when did this arrow through our hearts become a dagger in my back pretending like you're all grown up you talk to me like I'm a kid in no uncertain terms I told you to fuck off and you did so now I am my world and everything in it while the You-sized gap looms larger by the minute I know there's nothing I can do now that might get us back on track But I beg of you - Please - Give me my Bowie LPs back ----------
Fair Dooz Dad
''She reckons on to be a lady, but it's clearly all a front. I tell ya lad - that Thatcher's a right fuckin Cunt". ----------
Mirror in the front room
They are bad. We are good. Ask anyone you like. 'Bastards' says me Mum, shocked by the carnage on the telly Me shocked at the first time I hear her swear Heads nodded affect compliance Desperate times call for desperate measures says my local newsagent, referring to a completely unrelated matter. Looking hard enough in The Mirror to belie our limitless self-justification, impossible that one day it will reflect true tyrants Heroes turned Baddies like. Because what then?
up font
if every other word that comes out my gob is understood to be a lie if I'm supposed to ogle birds arses as they pass us by if I'm expected to clatter other blokes just for giving you the eye maybe I'm not your type
if I'm meant to spin you round in a second hand new car or drive you to distraction by keeping tabs on where you are I don't think that sort of thing is gonna get us very far So maybe I'm not your type
If I'm required to chastise you for almost everything you say and pull my face at the slightest thing to always get my own way so If you're gonna take the piss just because I treat you okay then maybe I'm not your type ----------
Decisions, Decisions chips or beans ITV or BBC in or out coffee or tea black or white left or right wide or narrow bed or bored fight or flight mild or bitter red or blue hand or her kick or kiss yes or no push on or pull out sink or swim this or nothing ----------
A romantic night in
I hear my voice saying things to you compliments that do not exist beyond these walls fuelled by a biological urge I cannot comprehend Lies willingly accepted as a temporary truth necessary for your different reasons that are the same as mine beyond our control getting your end away our lot call it though its more than that really and much less if its any consolation I take no pleasure from my actions ----------
double standards
nothing breaks my heart like a manly girl them sorry young lasses you see about now and then who's peculiar features are frankly unavoidable to the degree where I find myself lamenting in an avuncular fashion at the inordinate amount of shit they'll have to put up with in their life because of how hung up on such nonsense most of us are and I'm no oil painting even me own Mother would vouch for that but I'm not in the same boat and besides I'm a bloke so I can get away with it which I appreciate is a right fuckin palaver and of course I wish it were different but I didn't make up the rules so if you're asking me to take the plunge and cast such pathetic values aside when considering prospective partners then you've got no chance pal. ----------
Compared to what?
must I compare thee to something else in order to truly signify my adulation because in all that exists nothing and nobody is remotely comparable to allow me to unequivocally express my heart beatific thoughts. Such verbose and circuitous circumlocution locquasiousally augmented by any possibility of justifiable likeness remains wholly incongruous at best quixotically fecund and pellucidly impressed constructed purely to to get you on your back in my sack all supine and that. -------------------
Reasons to be Tearful
Head butts, Tory Cuts, That newly found lump, Yer Missus getting the hump, giving ya the wide berth, cos of yer old mans narrow girth being yesterday's news, getting dogshit on yer shoes Betting on a nag and losing the lot on a bad trip and losing the plot, Yer ex's new fella, realising that yer yella, yer hairline retreating, yer in for a beating yer teeth falling out, when some meathead gives ya a clout, and for nowt I might add and ya can't do owt cos he's bigger than yer Dad Yer old mates giving ya the boot, Cos ya won't go down the right wing route thoughts of the clarets going down like most pubs in town who think yer poems stink and yer running out of
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