The Shape Of Things To Come

Bit of dystopian nightmare for a Monday morning.

The Shape Of Things To Come

It seems they’ve come to an agreement

On climate change, global warming and such

That will assure the future of planet Earth

Give the human species new birth

Signed a new treaty, whatever that’s worth

To avoid a dystopian future of gloom, steer us away from impending doom

Give our atmosphere a little more room, and let us breathe once again

So does that mean we’ve found a solution?  That there’ll no longer be any pollution?

Can we stop worrying and relax?  I don’t think so, and here are some facts:

It’s like a resolution to cut down on smoking, not to stop, but to carry on choking,

Just a little more slowly – and I’m not joking

The planet’s future is probably nixed, because the problems aren’t fully fixed

It’s just a huge box of tricks

The carbon’s still being dug out of the ground, and will continue to be burned all around

Science and technology collude in the cracking, to assist industries like mining and fracking

Extracting resources sadly lacking, so into the corner we’re backing

Destroying what’s left of the thin atmosphere, undermining the whole biosphere

You see - the damage is already done!  The Jet-stream’s decidedly swung

Into a different pattern and course

Global population’s increasing perforce

Which means we’re heading no doubt, towards malnutrition, starvation and drought

Poverty and desperation all about

Rising temperatures and rising seas, natural systems brought to their knees

Typhoons and hurricanes, monsoon rains, dust-storms across all terrains

Freak hailstorms, weird weather in all of its forms

Choking fog, carcinogenic smog

Gas-masks and particulates you can taste

And then in our haste, we’re tipping out waste

Into the oceans that boil, there’s not much left to spoil

It’s quite drastic, the sheer amount of plastic - it’s simply fantastic

It seems there’s no escape, from the rape of the landscape

As we hollow out the planet, exhaust our reserves,

Taint the water courses, use up the resources

Till there’s so few, that there’s nothing to do, and none left to renew

With intensive methods of factory farming, the over-crowding’s alarming

And processes even less charming

We can’t afford a reduction, in the scale of food production

With gene-splicing and genetic modification’s persistence

Creating anti-biotic and painkiller resistance

In a move that’s endemic, the threat of a global pandemic

Spawning mutations, hybrids and clones, as well as pumping in buckets of hormones

Poisoning that goes down to the bones – and now the skies are filled up with drones

As the global corporations push for power - they’re a dangerous, de-regulated shower

Where corruption’s a too-common flower

The free-market economy believers, elitist capitalist system deceivers

People in pursuit of gain, never mind the pain

Never hear the under-privileged sobbing

Or the self-determination it’s robbing

Leaving the stark choice of unemployment , or insecure underpaid jobs

How are the under-pensioned to fare, in a system of under-resourced care?

The elderly, the vulnerable, the poor?  The sick and the weak are left on the floor!

Whilst the rich climb into their gilded towers, protected by private security powers

With their robots, and servants and slaves, the rest of us head for our shelters and caves

Barricaded inside our modules or heading for our early graves

But that’s how market forces work in the end, and polarisation of life-chances tend

To foster political and religious extremism that bend right-wing fundamentalism to rend

The world to its liking

And as the suicide bombers, move deftly among us

As their explosions we hear, coming increasingly near

Creating a stewing mass of violence and fear

Nowhere is safe, it can be presumed

Conclusion – I think we’re all doomed!

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 30th July 2017

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 30^th July 2017

Here is our weekly round-up of events from Devizes:

                                                  

1.      This week in D-Town marks the start of a series of commemorative events to mark 100 years since the Tragedy of Maryport Street.  Hundreds of men died by drowning in the mud when contractors failed to repair the pavements properly.  Even today fragments of trainers and shell-suits, lost whilst shopping, are still emerging from the mud.  A number of modern-day potholes will be decorated with flowers in memory of the earlier road-work-holes, and both Gas and Electricity Boards will send teams of men to dig new utility trenches as a mark of respect.

2.      Negotiations have continued between D-Town’s representatives and the Wiltshire Economic Union (WEU) over Dexit.  Both sides admitted that progress has been slow, with neither party having the faintest idea what is going on, and what Dexit will actually look like.  Citizens of D-Town continue to worry over what format the borders with the rest of Wiltshire will look like, and what colour the covers on the passports will be.  A competition will be launched in local Primary Schools next term to design a new cover, using only crayons.

3.      For details of these and all other Devizes stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station D-Town F-Off.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Extreme Tidying For Beginners

Extreme Tidying For Beginners

Some people can live right on the edge

In a minute-by-minute existence

With possessions that are rife

But not me and the wife

It’s the path to married strife

Not for us an ad-hoc approach to life

No - we’ve lifted ourselves right out of that zone

Our lives have taken on a new tone

We’ve ascended to a higher plane of being

And with minimalism we’re agreeing

We’ve risen above chaos’s curse

We cannot imagine anything worse

Yes - we’ve taken orderliness to heart

Made a completely new start

And adopted the Ancient Yorkshire art

Of extreme tidiness

For the true key to life is perfect alignment

Each object must have a specific assignment

With a right place for every single thing

Where empty space and straight edges are king

Using the power of re-positioning

And the discipline of re-purposing

We allow nothing to clutter the floors

And we’ve removed all of the doors

Our books are now filed alphabetical

Disorder is completely antithetical

To be haphazard would be heretical

The quest for inner cleanliness is clear

And self-purification we hold dear

Now we have nothing to fear

We’ve sublimated our souls to Ikea

The science of feng-shui is our creature

Surplus possessions are no longer a feature

Mind over matter is our only teacher

You cannot imagine the shock

The self-flagellation that would block

The critics that would mock

To humiliation we’d be in hock

In the event that we found…. a stray sock

No – that way to shame and self-loathing lies

Focused meditation makes us wise

The road to tidiness lies in that guise

The Zen of self-improvement cannot be disguised

  

Everything not wanted - we sell

Our chakras align and gel

We’ve escaped from our living hell

Our lounge resembles a monastic cell

Our home is almost an empty shell

The house is totally enchanting

Exceptions to our rules we’re not granting

We’re calm, not panting and ranting

The seeds of doubt we’re not planting

And we end each day with joyful chanting

From what you have heard

It must have occurred

That order is to be preferred

And that Joy is our watchword

The wife and I make an excellent team

And I know it may seem

That we’re severe and extreme

In pursuit of our dream

But now that every possible thing has been tidied,

We’ve formulated a new scheme –

We’re going to make the garden gleam!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Spiced Potato Koftas

Recipe for: SPICED POTATO KOFTAS

Ingredients:

·        For the koftas:

o   4 baking potatoes

o   30g unsalted butter

o   20-40g fresh chopped herbs (dill, parsley, chives, coriander)

o   1 medium green chillie, very finely chopped

o   ¼ tsp turmeric

o   ¼ tsp smoked paprika

o   75g feta, broken into chunks

o   ½ tsp caster sugar

o   ½ tsp salt

·        For the coating:

o   40g plain flour

o   1 egg, whisked

o   90g flaked almonds (or sesame seeds or breadcrumbs) – for the coating

o   1 ½ tsp coriander seeds, toasted & gently crushed (or dukkah is ideal)

o   ¾ cumin seeds

·        600ml vegetable oil (for frying)

Method:

1.      Heat oven to 220C/ 200C fan/ gas 7

2.      Prick potatoes all over, put on oven tray & bake for about an hour until soft/ cooked

3.      Leave to cool a little, then peel & discard skins

4.      Put potato flesh in bowl, and mix roughly with butter, herbs, chilli, spices, feta, sugar, salt

5.      Form into 8 koftas of 60g each & lay on oven tray

6.      Put flour in one bowl, egg in next, seed/ crumb coating in next

7.      Gently roll each kofta in turn in flour, then egg, then coating

8.      Pour enough oil into a pan to come about 1” up the sides & heat

9.      Carefully lower in 2 or 3 koftas at a time, and fry 1-2 minutes, then turn over & fry other side for another 1-2 minutes until light brown all over

10.   Place in dish lined with kitchen paper to drain & keep hot whilst you cook the other koftas

What else you need to know:

1.      Serve with lemon wedges and/ or a dipping sauce or salsa

2.      Great as a starter or side-dish

No Nudes Is Good Nudes

No Nudes Is Good Nudes

There are many consequences to see,

But very few people I’m willing to bet,

Who foresaw the downfall of Playboy,

Because of the filth on the Internet.

It seems that you’re only one click away,

From any images you’re craving to see,

So there’s no longer very much point

Publishing “lad mags” or even Page Three.

The models will be covering up,

No longer removing their kit -

Just some provocative poses,

No longer revealing a tit.

It’s the end of a publishing era,

And I’m prepared to confess it myself,

No more furtive trips to the newsagents,

To peruse what’s on the top shelf

What was once a schoolboy’s hasty purchase,

Into the satchel, then down to the park,

Giving it large to all the other lads there,

Trying to be casual, just a bit of a lark.

Pretending to read all the articles,

All grown up and looking quite bold,

Flicking past the scantily-clad poses,

Focusing upon the large centre-fold.

Funny how the staple was always in the wrong place,

But it didn’t stop our glances from lingering,

How every copy became so well-thumbed,

From our over-enthusiastic fingering.

The dreams and wishes of young minds,

Were from education and studies torn.

Our hormonal moods, satisfied by a few nudes,

And by a cheap mag full of soft porn.

But that was all a long time ago,

An age of innocence, I confess:

Our sex education completed,

By a few girlies in a state of undress.

And things have moved on a bit now.

For these mags they’re building a pyre,

But it’s technology, not attitudes,

That are killing Hugh Hefner’s empire.

  

You see it’s no longer about smut and filth,

At least that’s my understanding -

It’s got nothing to do with mags or with bunnies -

These days it’s all about global branding.

Publishing content is big business,

It’s not about daring, nor about joy,

So let’s all say “thanks for the mammaries”

And wave a fond farewell to Playboy.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

What Are The Chances?

What Are The Chances?

What are the chances of you being here today?

What are the odds against you ever being born?

It’s not easy seeing, how you might have come into being

The statistics are staggering, the numbers mind-boggling

So let’s check there’s no deception regarding your conception

Let’s not be defective, but get some perspective

The first obstacle to your birth, is the pre-existence of Earth

Which pre-supposes the creation of the whole Universe,

The evolution of its galaxies and solar systems and all of that gang

The planets and even life on this world – all the way back to The Big Bang

The conditions had to be right, there had to be sun-light

So that single-celled organisms might, and primeval life able to fight

Its way out of the primordial soup -  indeed out of that gloop

Came all forms of life as we know it

Natural selection of life, in years measured over four billions

And humanoids spanned out in the merest two millions

And every one of your ancestors had to last until reproductive age

For a hundred and fifty thousand generations in an unbroken lineage

And if each one had not happened in the right combination

Each person would have been a different creation

And so on, and so on, back to beginning of time, so count yourself lucky

If you want to know how it’s done

The odds are 400 trillion to one

That’s four times ten to the power of fourteen, that you might never have been

Which makes the odds on football pools, the lottery and bingo look exceedingly keen

So just a single slip, a connection that didn’t quite meet

And you’d have possibly been your own sibling or cousin, which is quite sweet

Although you never really liked them, which is quite neat

The next part of this string, is the whole boy meets girl thing,

And the possibility of your specific parents meeting at all

The chances of talking to each other, dating and mating

The relationship developing, having a ball

And having sex with a suitable exchange of…. bodily fluids…

Did you know - a fertile female has a hundred thousand eggs

And a fertile man produces twelve trillion sperm

Over their respective lifetimes….that’s quite a long term

And whilst those are figures are relatively firm,

He’d have had to have been very firm (don’t squirm)….on the nights they made love

Including Saturday nights, after the pub,

For her to get in the club…

Now into the workings of reproduction we’ll peek

For each egg and each sperm is genetically unique

And you are the result of the fusion of one egg with one sperm

One exact unique meeting and fertilisation coming to term

And so was each of your parents, and each of their parents -

That’s your grandparents - going all the way back into history

It’s therein, that lies all of the mystery…

Now if only one of these combinations had been different you see

Or not happened, you wouldn’t be here listening to me!

The chances against you existing are greater than the number of particles in the universe

Which is a very, VERY big number, and what is much worse,

Thinking about it could make your head explode, which would be even worse

The mathematical pinnacle of a sequence

The frequence of which is almost infinitesimally small

It’s nothing short of a wonder that you’ve made it here at all…

So the chances are basically infinite… or maybe they’re zero

Which may mean that none of us ought to exist, and here is the gist…

Perhaps we’re figments of our own fertile imaginations

Just pigments in paint, a permutation that’s faint

But, either way, it’s almost a miracle

So you are something special, or even a hero

And it means you’re unique, almost a zero

You’re an “only”… doesn’t that make you feel lonely?

Except for doppelgangers of course

And triplets and twins…but I’m not going there

In case it does all of our heads in…

So what are the chances, what are the odds?

So many forks in the road never taken

Let’s hope that you’re suitably shaken

So many alternative paths

Well – you do the maths!

On the other hand – and here is the fun -

The fact that you’re here shows we’re virtually done

The probability of your existence is actually one hundred percent

Which in mathematical terms… is equal to one

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Emergency Poet

Emergency Poet

It’s not easy being a poet you know

Sometimes your powers can wane

You start feeling the strain, as you bang out another refrain
I know it’s difficult to believe

As you see me here reciting my verse

But sometimes it feels like a curse

It’s easy to become rather terse

And when things start going really badly

It’s time for medical help, to call in the nurse

It started quite gradually for me, I noticed my verse was turning quite free

But the problem wasn’t obvious to see, I wondered what the hell it could be

My limericks were….lacking, my sonnets were….sickly

My ballads were… just bollocks, my couplets just wouldn’t couple

My quatrains came out queasy, and it was no longer so easy

Lyrics and haikus became mangled, my epics and epitaphs all entangled

My rhythms all rambling and strangled

It was then that I fell, into a villanelle from hell

I forgot all the parameters, for iambic pentameters

You should have seen, the state of my Alexandrine

Each sestina could have been keener, and my cadences cleaner

My metre was a mess, and soon I confess

That my long lyrical canto sounded like something from panto

I couldn’t carry on at that time, I’d lost my powers of rhyme

I’d finally arrived at the point to know it, I felt that I must owe it to myself

To call on the Emergency Poet….

So I called one night after nine…the number was… Line, Line, Line

After waiting with some frustration

I got through and had my consultation

She seemed to know the problem at once

Made me feel like a poetic dunce

She said I was over-tired and run down

No wonder I was rhyming like a clown!

To keep me from depression and wallowing

She prescribed treatments as following…

Starting with an exercise of blank verse, but nothing too taxing at first

My diet consisted of a little thin doggerel, to be written twice in each day
Then to try a quick clerihew, don’t mind if I do, just one or two

She said in this gentle mode, I could work up to an ode

Until some new verses flowed

Then she’d be willing to bet, I could manage a sestet

So the moral of this saga is clear:

If your stanzas turn queer, get treatment, don’t fear

Drink plenty of beer

And if you liked this saga – then give us cheer!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Being English

Being English

I hear you claim that you’re English,

English through and through -

You wrap yourself up in the flag,

Proud of the red, white and blue.

You want people to know where you stand,

Not sitting on the rickety fence,

Descended from a long line of the English -

Well let’s examine the hard evidence.

Your heritage is a complex mixtures of genes:

Normans, Angles, and Saxons are all in the mix,

As are Romans and Moors and the Jutes,

That’s not forgetting the Celts and the Picts.

An Englishman’s home is his castle,

Living elsewhere would be such a wrench  -

There’s just one fly in this ointment -

All the great English castles are French!

Saint George is your national symbol,

A dragon-slaying heroic saint,

But he’s from the Levant, that’s Turkey to you,

So English he certainly ain’t!

And your great institutions of state?

English? Surely that’s what is meant?

The monarchy?  The Royal Family?

Nah – you’re ruled by a Queen of German descent!

There’s very little to find that’s true English,

No matter how deeply you seek -

Even Parliament’s an imported idea,

And your democracy is Greek!

Fish and chips are your national dish,

Eaten with gusto across your great land,

But the spuds were brought back from America,

And the cod’s imported from Iceland!

Your favourite car is German

Your vodka is Russian, your pasta Italian

Kebabs are from Turkey, curry from India

Coffee from Brazil, tea from India

Your shirts are sewn in Indonesia

Even your numbers are Arabic, and letters are Latin

Your oil is Arabian, your software is American

And on top of all these,

To add insult to injury,

Your electronics are Chinese!

For it’s waves and waves of immigration,

Other races coming to England to stay,

A continuous genetic melting-pot

That carries on up to this day.

Inter-marriage and natural selection

Have created a strong, heady brew.

We’re all multi-racial mongrels now -

Yes - English through and through!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 23rd July 2017

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 23^rd July 2017

Here is our weekly round-up of events from Devizes:

                                                  

1.      Outrage amongst the good burghers of D-Town erupted this week when the Brittox Broadcasting Company (BBC) was forced to reveal how much it pays its top stars when it published its annual report.  Not only were some of the figures absolutely derisory, but the list of top earners featured mostly people from Wiltshire, with hardly any from Somerset, thus revealing an in-built yokel imbalance. 

2.      And the levels of boredom and ennui reached their peak when it was announced that a baking programme on TV which no-one was interested in would be moving across to a channel that no-one ever watched.  Sales of baking products in local super-markets were unaffected, although the local One Stop Shop claimed to have sold one extra bag of flour this week.  Despite having a reputation for soggy bottoms, D-Town folk are a sensible lot.

3.      For details of these and all other Devizes stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station D-Town F-Off.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

We need to talk about hair

The stuff that covers the human body

The stuff that everyone knows

From the tops of our heads to (in some cases) the tops of our toes

That’s how it generally goes

Yes, we need to talk about hair

The stuff that can be dark or oftentimes fair

Of how it goes in a cycle through life

With little to start with when we’re born

Then growing and sprouting and flourishing

So we spend fortunes on shampoos

And conditioners for nourishing

Cutting and styling and shaping

Plucking and singeing and shaving

We’ve developed the knack

For back, sack and crack

A devious desire to dazzle

Perhaps even a cheeky vajazzle

In an orgy of depilation

A whole industry that’s addressing

Our copious needs for hair-dressing

But that’s only the upward trajectory

Of hair’s growth and our vanity

Before the onset of insanity

As towards old age we’re spinning

When fading and falling and thinning

Create a look that’s no longer winning

But that’s what happens up on the head

You start losing it faster instead

And also down there below

You’ll find it’s starting to go

But there’s an exception to this general moulting

That some find personally revolting

When the orifices of the head

Start to take over instead

For there can be no doubting

About the range of new sprouting

A new flourishing that fills

The eyebrows, the ears and the nostrils

But I’m willing to bet

It’s not finished yet

It’s just the same hair that you get

Simply looking for a new outlet

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Earl Grey Tea Bread

Recipe for: EARL GREY TEA-BREAD

Ingredients:

·        275g mixed fruit or sultanas

·        300ml strong black Earl Grey tea

·        60g soft brown sugar

·        Zest of one orange or lemon

·        2 large eggs

·        275g plain flour

·        2 ½ tsp baking powder

·        1 tsp ground ginger

·        ½ tsp ground cinnamon

·        ¼ tsp ground nutmeg

·        ¼ tsp salt

Method:

1.      Grease & line 2lb/ 900g loaf tin

2.      Heat oven to 170C/ 160C fan/ 335F, gas 3 ½

3.      Put dried fruit in a saucepan with the tea, bring to the boil & simmer for one minute

4.      Add sugar and zest, stirring to dissolve, and set aside to cool

5.      In a separate large bowl mix the flour & spices

6.      Beat the two eggs lightly in a separate small bowl

7.      Add the wet ingredients to the dry ones in the large bowl & mix carefully

8.      Tip/ spoon the mixture into the loaf tin & smooth the top gently

9.      Bake for 50-55 minutes, testing with s skewer that the loaf is cooked through

10.   Remove and cool in the tin for ten minutes, before lifting out onto wire rack.

What else you need to know:

1.      Slice and butter thickly & eat with a cup of (Earl Grey) tea.

Loyalty

Loyalty

When approaching the checkout at Morrisons

There’s an anxiety that grips me

It’s not, I confess, whether I have “Five items or less”

Nor the grammatical skewer

To know whether it should be “Five items or fewer”

No, it’s deeper form of worry, that causes the sudden flurry

Of bone-chilling angst and anxiety

You see shopping in Waitrose

Doesn’t get up your nose

That’s how it goes

And, if I may be so bold,

That’s what you’re told, so you’re exit is usually bold

When you’re Never Knowingly Undersold

And at Asda and Aldi’s there’s no fiddle

Nor attempt to diddle, when you’re shopping at Lidl

Even Sainsbury’s no riddle

But back here at the Morrison’s conveyor

I’m stopped from being much gayer

I’m a dithering, nervous payer

With my Match N’ More loyalty card

My enjoyment is marred

I’m quite on my guard, the calculation’s too hard

I feel uncertainty in my joints

Perspiration my face anoints, as I calculate my points

Hoping the till will correctly count

Special offers, as the totals gradually mount

Towards my overall discount

I need my bargains - I’m no toff

I’m forced to a cough, if I don’t get my BOGOF

When I pay my bill, waiting there at the till

It’s not my intention

To cause the queue a detention

But I just thought that I’d mention

This disquiet, this tension

That it might have been cheaper at Tesco

Perhaps I should change, switch where I go

For as any fool know

Every Little Helps

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Shrinking Congregation

Shrinking Congregation

I watch with some puzzlement

As our local vicar modifies his church

He’s closed down the meeting rooms

And he’s had his pulpit made a smaller size

Now he’s installed much smaller pews

And he’s had the stained-glass windows lowered

And, with the bishop’s stern approval,

The altar’s on a lower table than it was

I enquired about these modifications

So he confided to me in a recent conversation

He says he’s dealing with a shrinking congregation

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Rhymes In The News

Major Incident At Construction Site

A major incident was declared yesterday at an out-of-town construction site.  Police, Ambulance and Rescue workers were called to the site when a man, thought to be one of the construction workers, fell from a recently-built wall.

A Police Spokesperson said: “Of course there will be a full enquiry later, but at the moment it appears that a man fell from the wall onto the ground below, where he sustained multiple injuries.  The wall from which he fell can be seen to be of considerable height, so it would have been quite a great fall.  The cause of the fall is not yet known, but the man was known to be slightly obese, and it is thought that his weight may have contributed to the accident.  Paramedics treated the man at the scene, but the extent of his injuries meant that he had to be moved to Bristol’s Frenchay Hospital by Air Ambulance.”

The man was admitted to the King’s Ward of the Hospital, where surgeons and medics worked throughout the night to save him.  However, the variety of different injuries sustained, and the loss of blood incurred, meant that they were unable to preserve his life.

And in other news:

·        Doctor Foster has returned home to Gloucester after a disastrous move to Somerset.  He said that he had not realised that it was so wet there.

·        A Farmer’s Wife has been arrested for animal cruelty after attacking three mice.  The creatures were known to be visually impaired.  Neighbours said that they had never seen anything like it in their lives.

·        And Police have been called to another local farm after a number of sheep were reported to have been stolen from a field.  The girl who was looking after the flock apparently fell asleep.  It is hoped that the animals will return to the farm of their own accord.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

The Impossible Dream

The Impossible Dream

What a joy it is to be rational,

To only believe what’s in front of your eyes,

Yet look at the evidence all around us,

You’d be in for quite a surprise!

Man’s capacity to imagine

The weird, the oddball and the bizarre,

Can take you to a whole new planet

Of experience that’s stranger by far.

Perhaps it came from man’s superstition,

His attempt to explain the universe,

Perhaps it just came out of old folklore,

To explain bad fortune and worse.

Mythical creatures come to the fore:

The Yeti, or Bigfoot or Unicorns,

Ghosts and griffins, werewolves and wyverns,

Pixies, sphinxes, sylphs and leprechauns.

The bogey-man, the sand-man, Santa Claus,

Flying pigs, Pegasus the winged horse,

Fauns and fairies, angels, devils and demons,

And the Loch Ness Monster of course.

Frankenstein’s monster, and Count Dracula,

Vampires and zombies, the walking dead,

Hobbits and hydras, warlocks and witches,

And for chimeras there’s a lot to be said.

Goblins and dragons, and doppelgangers,

Satyrs and sirens, mermaids and mer-men,

Cerberus and cyclops, and the Phoenix,

And shape-shifters far beyond our ken.

But beyond the three-humped camels,

What’s the point in this day and age?

Isn’t it Elf and Safety gone mad?

Isn’t it time to turn a new page?

Haven’t we yet finished with orcs and with trolls?

Do we still need imps, ogres, the manticore?

Wraiths, The Grim Reaper and Santa Cluas?

Shouldn’t we ask what it’s all for?

It’s the twenty-first century now!

We know how things work, covered every angle -

Shouldn’t we bundle up all of this nonsense,

And lose it in the Bermuda Triangle?

  

Or perhaps someone has an interest

In keeping this in front of our eyes?

The franchises, the branding, the products,

And a chance to sell us more merchandise?

Or maybe a need for some fantasy,

To forget that life can be a bit gritty,

To indulge our imaginations,

To escape from a reality that’s shitty?

Anyway, I’ve bent your ears for long enough,

I need to run along, I’ve got plenty to do -

I’ve got an appointment later night –

It’s the new series of Doctor Who!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 16th July 2017

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 16^th July 2017

Here is our weekly round-up of events from Devizes:

                                                  

1.      The leaderene of D-Town Council has shocked opposition and supporters alike with a frank confession this week that she shed “a tiny tear” when she realised the full extent of the cock-up in her calculated grab for power in calling a snap election.  Maintenance workers in the Town Hall were delighted to realise that the building had not, after all, been subject to some bizarre form of acid attack.  The burned hole in the upstairs committee-room where the interview took place was immediately explained, together with the corrosive stains in the ceiling below and the large burning pit in the floor below that.  No robots were harmed in the making of this report.

2.      And today marks the culmination of the annual Grand Slam tournament at the tennis courts in the town park.  It is hoped that the net, which was stolen by vandals several weeks ago, can be found in time to stage the men’s veterans’ final.  The game will be contested by two of the oldest men in the town, one of whom has been released from his Nursing Home for the afternoon.  The other has had his Zimmer frame specially polished for the occasion.  Almost five people are expected to attend.  But there are several other attractions in the town, including the heats of the Wiltshire watching-paint-drying competition and a gala day being held by the Watch The Grass Growing Society.

3.      For details of these and all other Devizes stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station D-Town F-Off.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Birdnoise

Birdnoise

O for the peaceful quiet of rural pursuits

The calm of the countryside

Of England in the summertime

But not with this combined cacophony

And masses of movement

Of our fine feathered friends!

The sprinkling speech of sparrows

The bit-by-bit bantering of blue-tits

The rosy red-breastedness of robins

There’s the calling, cawing croaking of crows

The boisterous blathering and bantering of blackbirds

The stammering of stuttering starlings

The posing and posturing of pigeons

The delicate dancing of doves

The mind-blowing movements of martins

With sweet sweeping of swallows

And swooshing and swooping of swifts

The great gannet-like greediness of gulls

The shouting and screaming of seagulls

The raucous roisterous rowing of ravens

The whacking of woody woodpeckers

The buzzing of bantering buzzards

The keen calling of cantankerous kites

The flash and the flurry of fast-flying falcons

The pure power of peregrines

The hovering of hawks in the heavens

The careful control of the kestrels

The heavy-handedness of huge herons

And, at last, as the sun sinks in the West

You’d think it was finally all over

That quiet would descend on the scene

But that’s just in the daytime!

Between the dawn and the dusk!

Because, by night, there’s the awful, orrible ooting of owls!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Birdlife

Birdlife

Gatherings of gulls

Sweeping, swirling, swooping, screaming

And flockings and flutterings

Of the smaller feathered species

Scatterings of speckled starlings

Silhouettes in the darkening sky

The sun sinking and dying

A roosting of ravens

Eyes sheeny-black and shiny

Amid the cawing of crows

And the hooting of owls

Chirpings, shriekings and chatterings

Alarm calls in the twilight

The shift-change noises of crossing purposes

Between the night-time nesters

Who will sit in fear through the curfew

Of dark-hours till the sun rises again

And the day-time sleepers

Who welcome pale moonlight

Amid the cawing of crows

And the hooting of owls

Shapes and shadows in the darkness

Stirrings, wing-stretchings, shakings

Within the barns and trees

A ruffling and preening of feathers

Sharpened beaks and beady eyes

Of the wakening hunters and raptors

Prior to crepuscular activity

Amid the cawing of crows

And the hooting of owls

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Chocolate, Orange & Hazelnut Biscotti

Recipe for: Chocolate, Orange & Hazelnut Biscotti

Ingredients:

·        50g ground almonds

·        20g cocoa

·        180g plain flours

·        ½ tsp baking soda

·        2 eggs

·        100g sugar

·        1 orange

·        50g toasted hazelnuts

·        50g chocolate chips

Method:

1.      Heat the oven to 180C/ 170C fan

2.      In one bowl mix together the ground almonds, cocoa, flour & baking soda

3.      In a second large bowl whisk together the eggs & sugar

4.      Tip the flour mixture into the eggs & sugar & mix together

5.      Grate in the zest of the orange, then all of its juice

6.      Add the toasted hazelnuts and chocolate chips

7.      Mix everything together well

8.      Line a large baking sheet with baking parchment

9.      Using wet hands knead the mixture, then shape into a long, thin loaf

10.   Place onto the parchment & bake for 30 minutes

11.   Take the “loaf” out of the oven & very carefully slice into thin pieces

12.   Lay the pieces flat on the parchment & bake at 130C for 15 minutes

13.   Remove from oven & allow to cool

What else you need to know:

  

1.      The slices should have dried out and be hard & crispy

2.      Eat with coffee or tea, or with a glass of chilled white wine