Filthy Rich

Filthy Rich

Darling – you won’t believe the trouble I’m having

I’m sure it’ll fill you so full of mirth

It’s no joke being so terribly, terribly wealthy

Being an individual of ultra-high worth

 

People simply don’t seem to understand

How hard it is to get the service one requires

It’s all very well being an ultra-VIP

But it doesn’t fulfil all that one desires

 

There’s more to life than just Waitrose

Or hampers from Fortnum’s to show style

One needs a personal account at Tiffany’s

And to have Harrods on speed-dial

 

Of course one buys one’s Bollinger in bulk

Though discounts are hardly a factor

It’s more a case of the quantities involved

As it won’t all fit in our Chelsea Tractor

 

Naturally we reside in a gated community

The detached country house is very exclusive

Most of the staff live off-site though

Or else their presence might be intrusive

 

The Help includes a butler, and a cook

To manage with less I’d be something of a fool

There’s a full-time cleaner, and two gardeners

Not forgetting the boy who cleans out the pool

 

The property boasts so many bedrooms

That I’ve lost count of just how many

With “his” and “hers” swimming pools

And a personal fitness guru called Penny

 

There’s also a bolt-hole mews house in Belgravia

For when one is simply forced to pop up to town

But occasionally we like to stay at The Ritz

Because it’s too boring to be on one’s own

 

Did I mention the private island near Mustique?

Which we cruise to on board of our yacht?

Yes I know it’s over a hundred and fifty foot long

But it’s the only one that we’ve got!

 

It carries a speedboat, and a submarine

With a gym, a cinema, and a large heli-pad

But we’ve kept the crew down to thirty

And the defensive missile system ain’t bad 

 

We keep a little palazzo in Lombardy

Which we can slip away to in late Spring

Oh – and a condo in Manhattan

Whenever the Big Apple’s our thing

 

We used to have a shooting estate in Scotland

But we found the local accents a drain

And, apart from the midges and haggis,

The only entertainment was watching the rain

 

We used to travel everywhere First Class

But we’ve since commissioned our own private jet

It’s useful for popping to places for ski-ing

In fact there’s almost nowhere we can’t get

 

Our twin daughters, Jocasta and Chlamydia,

Are tucked away in a boarding school for the elite

Taking conversational Italian and Chinese

And learning to play viola, which is quite sweet

 

They have their own personal therapists,

Stylists, publicists, secretaries and so on

With access to exotic spa treatments

And gold-plated iPhones – need I go on?

 

For their next birthdays we have plans –

We’ll hire Elton John to sing Happy Birthday,

Get them some matching designer pets

And maybe a racehorse – what can I say?

 

But now I’m sorry, but I really must dash -

My Wealth Counsellor says he must have a chat

About those space flights my people have booked

You really can’t get more expensive than that!

 

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Mackerel with Harissa Couscous

Recipe for: MACKEREL with Harissa Couscous 

Ingredients: 

• Mackerel fillets (2 per person), de-boned
• 3 tblsp olive oil
• Grated zest & juice of one lime (or lemon)
• Sml bunch spring onions, chopped
• 1 tblsp harissa paste (or more to taste)
• 125g couscous (serves 2)
• 400ml hot vegetable stock
• 3 tblsp chopped coriander, inc stalks 

Method: 

1. heat grill to high
2. lightly oil a baking tray
3. place mackerel fillets on tray, skin-side up
4. if fillets are large, put a couple of diagonal slashes across the fish
5. rub fillets with a little olive oil
6. season with salt & pepper
7. grate over the lime zest and drizzle over a little of the juice
8. allow to marinate for five minutes before grilling 3-5 minutes, depending on size (no need to turn the fillets – the fish should cook through from the skin-side)
9. meanwhile make the harissa couscous:
10. in a lidded casserole dish, fry half the spring onions, harissa & coriander stalks in a little oil until beginning to soften
11. tip in the couscous and stir to coat in the hot oil
12. add the hot stock, stirring to mix evenly
13. remove from the heat, cover with a lid and leave for five minutes
14. while the couscous is swelling, put the mackerel under the grill to cook
15. after five minutes, fluff up the couscous with a fork, adding a knob of butter, the rest of the lime juice and the rest of the spring onions and coriander
16. serve the mackerel over a pile of couscous 

What else you need to know: 

1. you can add other things to the couscous – finely chopped peppers, mushrooms etc
2. serve with a side-dish of mixed mushrooms or a salad

 

Ten A Day

Ten A Day

I like to count myself an upright citizen,

Conscientious in all I do and say,

To follow the rules and the guidelines,

To live my life in an exemplary way.

 

I always look before I leap,

To make sure that I thrive.

I make sure that I fasten my seat-belt.

And I never drink if I drive.

 

I wait for the green man before starting to cross,

And always give up my seat on the bus,

But this latest health advice is hard to take,

And it’s left me totally non-plussed.

 

See - I try to eat a balanced diet,

Avoiding too much saturated fat,

Taking in me nutrients and vitamins,

The carbs and the protein and all that.

 

But how do I cope with this new guidance?

Stop my nerves from starting to fray,

To intake all ten of these portions,

When I’m already struggling with my five a day?

 

There’s only so many veggies and fruits,

That one man can be expected to take,

Only so many different ways to eat,

Only so many sacrifices that he can make.

 

I’ve tried chopping them up, and stir-frying,

Baking them, boiling them and steaming,

Liquidising, juicing and spiralising,

I’ve drunk smoothies till I’m ready for screaming.

 

Where do people find enough time to do this?

To force that much down without a fight?

Who’s got this kind of digestion?

To say nothing of the requisite appetite?

 

Now I don’t mean to sound indelicate,

But whether fresh, frozen or tinned,

Vegetables do have certain qualities,

And roughage like that just creates wind.

 

So I’m off to the pub for a few pints -

I think I’ve still got time if I hurry.

All this worry’s making me hungry,

So I might have to go for a curry!

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Guide To Golf

Guide To Golf

What modern madness is this?

That when the weather’s fine, a man thinks

Here’s a chance for some four-ball jinks

With some time out on the links?

Followed by the nineteenth hole

And a skinful of drinks?

For when he’s finally well-oiled

Out in the hot sun he’s been boiled

And round eighteen holes he’s just toiled

It only amounts to “a good walk spoiled”.

 

And though he’s frightfully keen

At the Royal & Ancient to be seen

Men such as he never say what they actually mean

They talk in a jargon or code

They want to be “a la mode”

They want to be the boss

As they stride over the moss

In the search for a Birdie, or an Eagle

Or an ever-elusive albatross.

 

But if you’re looking for these birds

Why use these ridiculous words?

And the equipment sounds totally dud –

Is a club or an iron any good?

A sand-wedge, or a driver that’s stood?

And what’s a niblick, or even a wood?

They’re chipping, and driving and slicing

Or pitching and putting (to put on the icing)

And with fashion sense they’re definitely dicing.

 

And everyone who plays, every old fogey

Doesn’t want to be caught with a bogey

When striding around with their trolley

Nobody wants to look like a wally

Then they’re stroking, or playing from scratch

And washing their balls during a match.

 

But these badly-dressed fools

With their bags full of expensive tools

Who follow these arcane regulations and rules

Amateur or professional, whatever their role

Have just one thing as their goal

These men would give up their very soul

If the full truth were finally tol’

Just to knock a bloody ball into a hole!

 

Cooyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

A Guide To Ski-ing

(An Eight Year-old’s) Guide To Ski-ing (as written in the half-term essay for the class)

This half-term we went on holiday

Daddy said that we were off to ski

I’d no idea what he was on about

It seemed like a barmy idea to me

 

There was problems at the airport

When we was flying out that day

The baggage-handlers went on strike

And in the lounge we had to stay

 

Daddy spent a long time worrying

About whether there’d be any snow

Because even if there wasn’t

He said we’d still be forced to go

 

But when we got there it was ice and powder

The weather was absolutely freezing

And even Mummy was quite happy

Until my sister started sneezing

 

So she was confined to bed

Which didn’t really bother me

But the rest of us got out our equipment

And got ourselves prepared to ski

 

We all had bright blue puffa jackets

Over the top of thermal ski-suits

We had goggles and gloves with toggles

And ski-pants and pairs of massive boots

 

And we drove off to the ski-lift

To the top of the mountain if you will

Then slid all the way back down again

It’s a thing they call “downhill”

 

I couldn’t see the point of what we did

Slaloming down that dangerous drop

We’d only just get to the safety of the bottom

Then we’d simply head back to the top!

 

And we did that all the blooming day

Repeatedly riding up and sliding down

Oh, and drinking lots of gluh-wein

Before we made it back to town

 

Then we all came back in high spirits

We’d had a good day - that was easy to see

Then we ate and drank all night

In something known as “apres-ski” 

 

It must have been the Alpine atmosphere

Or the charms of where we stayed

Because Mummy became suspicious

And caught Daddy kissing the chalet-maid

 

Well, she wasn’t very happy

And shouted at him, called him a beast

And wasn’t going to put up with it

Nor let him think he could go off-piste

 

Next day we was under a bit of a cloud

And Daddy said he wasn’t having any fun

So he stalked off all on his own

To tackle something called a “black run”

 

Apparently he wasn’t supposed to do that

Everyone told him that it wasn’t any joke

But he still went off and hit a tree

And that’s how his leg got broke

 

So he was carted off to the hospital

In another town in France

Which was when Mummy discovered

That we didn’t have enough insurance

 

He was put in traction and in plaster

To heal his fractured limb

The credit card bill just grew and grew

And things were looking rather grim.

 

Then the weather turned much worse

With raging blizzards that made us blanch

And we were trapped for two days

The town was buried by an avalanche

 

And when we finally made it home

Mummy and Daddy wouldn’t even talk

I don’t think we’ll be going ski-ing again

Well – not until Daddy learns to walk.

 

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

 

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 25th April 2021

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 25^th April 2021 

Here is our weekly round-up of events from D-Town:                                              

1.      Football fans throughout the borough were celebrating this week-end as the demise of the WSL (Wiltshire Super League) became increasing obvious.  The six biggest clubs south of the M4 (D-Town Ramblers, Heddington Headshakers, Willington Wanderers, Old Melkshonians,  Real Trowvegas, and Avebury Rolling Stones) had previously announced a breakaway competition with no relegation.  Given that there are no leagues any lower than the current West Wilts (Germolene) League, this was seen as a mere technical point. However, the WSL’s plans to re-negotiate their lucrative £10-a-year sponsorship deal with Fantasy Radio was seen as being in major conflict with the fans’ desire to listen to other radio stations. 

2.      And in other shock news, the Post Office in Maryport Street has announced that they now accept that the man they had accused of stealing stamps and pushing in to the queue every Tuesday afternoon was, in fact, not a complete liar and a thief as they had previously claimed, but instead was (as everyone else already knew) just a complete twonk of the first order.  Over-turning previous court judgements, the Appeal Court in The Vize ruled that the man should now receive a free padded A4 envelope in full and final compensation. 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Wether(spoons) Or Not

Wether(spoons) or Not

To the weary traveller who turns up at night,

Through the gloom there’s beckoning light,

My hostelries are a welcoming sight.

Push past my bouncers of great height,

And after you’ve had a meal or a light bite,

You can get yourself as high as a kite,

And (in Trowbridge) involved in a fight!

Yes – come Hell or High Noon,

I’m your Mister Wetherspoon.

 

I’m there on every High Street,

In every town and great city,

And some occupy elegant buildings,

And others that are far less than pretty.

My floor-coverings are sticky and gritty,

And some are positively shitty,

But you don’t need much in the kitty,

To buy drinks that are cloudy and bitty,

And though our menus attempt be witty,

You’ll be served by a barmaid who’s snitty,

Or a youth who’s positively zitty -

I might employ the lowliest goon,

But I’m still your Mister Wetherspoon.

 

So all hail my family-friendly chain,

A calm refuge that’s out of the rain,

My all-day serving meal deals,

Where grease on the tables congeals,

My establishment for the crap-lager man,

That sells alcohol as cheap as it can,

But my lurid advertising never fails,

To offer a wide range of ciders and ales.

For the all-day drinker it’s life’s greatest boon,

To have a house named Wetherspoon.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

 

Officially Fragile

Officially Fragile

I went for my check-up the other day

A long-delayed appointment

And had to sit amongst the great unwashed

Whilst awaiting my consultation

And when it finally came round to me

And made it inside to see the doc

I sat myself upon the patient’s chair

And he asked me what my trouble was

 

Where to begin? I said morosely

And then proceeded to tell him of my woes

Of all my aches and pains

The stiffness in my joints

My general lack of energy

And all my trouble sleeping

That I hated taking tablets

Of how my hip was always hurting

As I waited for my operation

That I disliked walking with a stick

And was frightened now of falling

 

That I couldn’t carry heavy shopping

Nor stand for long when riding on the bus

How everything felt so exhausting

And how my bladder was no longer to be trusted

 

And he listened patiently to me

Despite all the others waiting in his queue

Asked a few general leading questions

Felt my pulse, took my blood pressure

And perused my bulging patient file

Before coming to his sad conclusion –

That I was doing pretty well, considering

My great advance in years

And it was only to be expected

 

He told me I’d earned a new designation

And reached another milestone in my life

He explained that I was now “officially fragile”

And that I must be extra careful

Because my bones were dry and brittle

That any breakage might be my last

And that my body would shy away from healing

 

So it’s a cotton-wool existence now for me

No going out or taking risks

Avoiding any surface that is hard

Which rules out just about everything I love

So I might just have to cancel

That long-awaited skiing holiday

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

 

Pork with Paprika & Olives

Recipe for: PORK with PAPRIKA & OLIVES 

Ingredients: 

·        500g diced pork (leg or shoulder)

·        Red onion – cut into thin wedges

·        2 garlic cloves, crushed

·        100g chorizo, cut into chunks

·        1 tsp smoked paprika

·        400g tin chopped tomatoes

·        300ml/ ½ pt chicken stock

·        400g can chickpeas, rinsed

·        100g green olives

·        Zest & juice of a lemon

·        Small bunch of parsley, chopped

 

Method: 

1.      Heat oven to 150c/ fan 130C/ gas 2

2.      In oven-proof casserole with lid, season pork, then brown (in batches) in a little oil over a high heat. Set aside.

3.      Add onion & garlic to oil, cooking till softened

4.      Add chorizo & paprika, cooking for another 2 minutes

5.      Add tomatoes, stock and the cubes of browned pork

6.      Stir well, bring up to a simmer, then cover with lid & place in oven

7.      Cook for 1 hour

8.      Stir in chick peas & olives.

9.      Cook for another 1 hour.

10.   Stir in lemon zest, juice & parsley just before serving.

 

What else you need to know: 

1.      The sauce in this is REALLY tasty

2.      Goes really well with crusty bread & a glass of cider

 

But It's OK

But It’s OK

Yes, that’s mine, the one with the engine running

Won’t be a minute, then I’ll be gone

Sorry about blocking the way through

But it’s OK – I’ve got my hazards on!

 

Yes, I know there’s two kids in the back,

My girl Jocasta, and the baby’s Yvonne

They’ll be alright just for a few seconds

I know – because I’ve got my hazards on!

 

I’m only slipping in to Costa for a latte

It’s no use arguing with me, John

It might be on double yellow lines

But it’s fine – I’ve got me hazards on!

 

It’s way too far from the car-park

There’s no other spaces – absolutely none

Look - I’m in a rush and I’m busy

Can’t you see? – I’ve got me hazards on!

 

My personalised number shows I’m important

And a lot wealthier than you are, Ron!

There’s little chance the wardens’ll get me

No chance – not with me hazards on!

 

Well just get your head round it then

I’m untouchable – that you can depend upon!

I can put my Chelsea Tractor where I please

Just get used to it – cos I’ve my hazards on!

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Do I Have To?

Do I Have To?

Do I have to come out of Lockdown?

I’d just got used to being all on my own

Everybody else is going out again

And there’s nobody left for me to phone

 

There’s lots of inoculated people out there

They think they’re safe and acting all gung-ho

They’re sitting outside and drinking

And hugging everyone that they know

 

But I’ve got into a new routine now

Changing my habits just doesn’t seem right

Planning my whole evening watching TV

And going to bed early each night

 

Now I’m feeling a new anxiety

Having to make decisions about where to go

Being stuck in the house was so much easier

And I think I’ve got back my symptoms of FOMO

 

The whole adventure looks risky to me

No-one’s bothered about face, hands and space

I’ve got used to shouting through the letter-box

Not sure I’m yet ready to leave the old place

 

I’m told that deaths and infections are decreasing

Apparently the “R” number is going down

But to be honest - I don’t give a toss for statistics

So I think I’ll just stay here on my own!

 

Life under Lockdown was so much simpler

When we had no freedom to roam

So lock me back up, and throw away the key

And – please! - force me to stay home!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

 

 

Not Yet

Not Yet 

There will come a time I know not when

That I can no longer roam abroad

And walk through fields and paths

Along beside the old canal

The brewery, the castle and the town

But – please – not just yet

 

There will come a time in future years

That I can no longer leave the house

Nor cook nor clean nor anything

Nor do things for myself

That I would wish to do

A situation I could not bear

But – I hope – not quite yet

 

There will come a time sometime soon

That I can no longer make it to the pub

And sit among the friends I love

Nor chat nor joke nor buy my round

Nor enjoy good company

And lose the only reason

That makes life worth while

But – for pity’s sake – not yet

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 18th April 2021

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 18^th April 2021

 

Here is our weekly round-up of events from D-Town:                                              

1.      The Duck of the Crammer was ceremonially laid to rest yesterday.  A minute’s silence was held at 3pm, scrupulously observed by the local citizenry. The Duck was borne to the Palace of Roses Butchers (Purveyors of meat & game to the gentry), where the duck-bearers paused for a moment whilst a car-exhaust in Sidmouth Street gave a single backfire, prior to entering the premises. D-Town FC kicked off early to avoid clashing with the ceremony, but still lost by the traditional score of 6-1. 

2.      Meanwhile the Town Council has launched a judge-led enquiry into the apparent scandal caused by the unofficial approaches of a former mayor, David Gissabung, to the current Treasurer of the Council on behalf of the private company Greensmell.  The scope of the enquiry will be added to other enquiries involving bears going into forested areas for toilet purposes, popes being accused of being a bit High Church, and whether Dolly Parton has to sleep on her back. 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Clickety-Click

Clickety-Click

Clickety-click the bingo-caller shouts

To the room of hardened punters

A phrase that needs no translation

But he does it anyway

A number that, on its own, has no importance

Only insofar as it relates to many others

As everyone hungrily seeks to complete their Line

Or looks to fill their House

 

This Mecca for devotees

Absorbs the scores on the doors

Coming now in fast succession

In a rapid rolling random ritual

Where no-one takes the time to look up

Or to notice any number above the next

 

We’re all in the Top Rank now

Where soon it’ll be Sunset Strip

Then, before you know it, Two Fat Ladies

And finally Top of the House

Before the winning cry goes up

And, subject to checking,

Another session’s done and dusted

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Two Billion Seconds

Two Billion Seconds

Two billion seconds is a lot

A number too hard to handle

To manipulate with any confidence

But once you carve it up a bit

Apply the rules of long division

It soon reduces to something normal

 

Two billion seconds takes a while to pass

To measure by the ticking clock

The steady clicking of the hand

Especially if you’re watching

But once you look away

It’s going faster than you think

 

Two billion seconds may represent a life

Or at least a massive chunk of one

Once you’ve translated to years

And with it comes the knowledge

That there’s a chance you might reach three

But you’ll never get as far as four

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Cheese & Chive Flapjacks

Recipe for: CHEESE & CHIVE FLAPJACKS 

Ingredients: 

• 100g butter, melted
• 250g porridge oats
• 1 large carrot peeled & grated
• 4 tblsp mixed seeds (flax, chia, sunflower, pumpkin, sesame etc)
• 100g mature cheddar cheese, grated
• 2 large eggs, beaten
• Bunch chives, chopped 

Method: 

1. Heat oven to 180C (fan)
2. Butter a small 20cm x 20cm baking tray
3. In a large bowl mix the oats, carrot, cheese, seeds, chives, salt & pepper
4. Add the melted butter and beaten eggs & mix thoroughly
5. Tip the mixture into the baking tray, pressing down & into the edges/ corners
6. Smooth the top to make it even & sprinkle a few more seeds
7. Bake for about 30 mins until golden brown & set
8. Leave to cool completely before cutting into bars & turning out

 

Stopped

Stopped

The house is slowly grinding to a halt

For want of better care and more attention

There’s nagging neglect and a lack of love

A running-down of what once was vibrant

 

But now, in the empty bathroom

The tap carries on its steady leaking

Its silent drips fall unheeded

And make a stain upon the sink

 

In the lounge, upon the mantel

The clock un-wound stands silent

And no longer tells the time

Nor chimes upon the hour

 

In the cheerless kitchen

The plates sit unwashed upon the drainer

Holding dirty forks and knives

Awaiting loading into the machine

 

And in the bedroom

The floor has gathered a fair selection

Of abandoned grubby clothes

Which have not yet made it to the laundry

 

Will no-one draw these gloomy curtains back

And let some light back in to the rooms?

How much longer can this go on

Before something starts to give?

 

How many days until everything’s gone

And there is nothing left that’s fit to use?

And do you think we will ever start again

To put our lives back in running order?

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Botswana

Botswana

The drift of woodsmoke

Its tendrils curling through the air

The kettles set to boil above the licking flames

As we sit around the campfire

Staring into embers

Listening to the grumble of distant thunder

The intermittent flash of lightning

Across the far horizon

Through the darkening clouds

Threatening the coming of the long-awaited rains

 

We gaze across the scrubland, the wasted desert

And the arid desiccation of the salt pans

The calm of the delta shattered

By cicadas screeching in the cooling air

And the booming of lions calling in the night

Then we remember sipping rooibos by the river

The journey of giraffes, the dazzle of zebras

And the disputatious baboons, chattering and screaming

The subsonic rumble of elephants

In the land of trunk and tusk and trumpeting

The circling of vultures, aerial indicators

Then the smell of the kill

Ripped and torn and freshly flayed

Guts and blood, white and red

Spilled upon the dusty ground

And under the early starlit sky

The bleached bones of earlier victims

Long finger-shadows cast

By the burning disc of a sinking sun

 

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

 

I Never Wanted A Dog

I Never Wanted A Dog

I’ve never really wanted a dog

Not even when I was only a sprog

Their barking and general behaviour left me agog

Under the feet if I went for a jog

Getting all messy and running into a bog

 

As an alternative, I considered a mog

Looked into keeping a hog

Or even a tropical frog

But the choices made my thoughts clog

And put my brain into a fog

 

Yes it was quite a quag….mire

The whole thing turned into a slog

Then I started using my nog

(I’ve written my thoughts up on my blog)

Yes – I’ve decided to foster a log!

 

You really ought to try it!

It’s very clean and it’s quiet -

That’s what persuaded me to buy it

And it never ever needs feeding

Precious little attention it’s needing

It doesn’t interrupt when I’m talking

And it never needs walking

But that doesn’t stop folks from gawking

It may be a rather inanimate sprog

But, overall, I’m pleased with my log

No – I never wanted a dog

 

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 11th April 2021

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 11^th April 2021

 

Here is our weekly round-up of events from D-Town:                                              

1.      Great sadness in The Vize this week when it was announced that the Duck Of The Crammer had died, aged 99 months.  Swans bent their necks in tribute and trousers throughout the town were worn at half-mast.  Birdlife on the surface of the pond came to a standstill for several minutes.  The body was ceremonially removed to be laid out at Roses the butchers, and will lie in state until next Saturday, when it will cooked and carved.  Members of the public are requested not to attend, as there will not be enough to round. 

2.      The re-opening of the hospitality industry tomorrow, particularly pubs and restaurants, is being eagerly awaited by the citizenry. Pubs have been busy boarding up windows and doors, in an attempt to keep out the teeming crowds of lager-swilling louts.  Restaurants will refuse to answer the phone, or respond to email requests to book tables, in an ill-judged and vain attempt to avoid being overwhelmed on the first lunchtime of the week. Hairdressers, however, will open at midnight in order to get ahead (geddit?) of the hirsute, hairy hordes of shaggy-headed customers.

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Water, Water Everywhere

Water, Water Everywhere

Let me offer you some refreshment

The best you’ll find in this quarter

Not lager, beer, stout or porter

But a splash of life-giving water

Yes H-2-O, a fluid that’s pure

A refreshing drink to be sure

For thirst it’s the natural cure

And this bottle provides of the best

Passing every chemical test

You can forget all the rest

You might think that it’s strange

But it comes in a very wide range

Not only sparkling and still

But warmed, or frozen, or chilled

Vaporised, evaporated, and distilled

Osmosis-reversed, and de-ionised filled

Brewed from birch, coconut or maple

It’s more than a natural staple

Melted from glaciers and pack-ice

Deep-water harvested in a trice

Purified through thick beds of rice

Processed and refined to taste nice

It comes very highly rated

Omega-enhanced, and ultra-filtrated

Anti-oxidising manganese

What could be better than these?

It’s cellulite-eradicating

And it’s faster-hydrating

And it’s so easy to see

Why this should be

To vegetarians and vegans it’s key

And it’s sugar-, dairy-, and gluten-free!

The key to all life with very few faults

Cos it’s packed full of mineral salts!

 

This First World luxury’s not trite

And a privileged lifestyle’s our right

And as we want connoisseurs to see the light

So our packaging is plain black, or plain white

(We trade on such minimalist shite)

We are a water-obsessed nation

It’s all about drinkable elation

Not just simply hydration!

 

Yes, we know the stuff falls from the skies

And in ponds and lakes it gathers and lies

From geysers and spas it will bubble and rise

In wells you can gather a hoard

It springs from the Earth of its own accord

The wide oceans cover the map  

 

And it just pours forth from the tap

But we think we’ve spotted the gap –

What we’re simply demanding

Is for you to pay more attention to the branding

The “terroir” is important to the flavour

It provides a crystal purity to savour

 

But when we’ve exhausted this elitist demand

When every type of water’s been bottled or canned

When thirst has been slaked throughout the land

We’ll have to find a new designer ware

About which consumers will care

Even though it’s already there

And exploit something that appears to be rare –

So we’re thinking of bottling….the air

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

 

Morning Has Broken

Morning Has Broken

Morning has broken

But the coffee’s not yet spoken

The clouds of last night

Still fog up my sight

The daylight’s too bright

I’m not yet ready

Nor feeling too steady

Time to get through the gate

In spite of my state

The newspaper must wait

It remains to be seen

When I get that hit of caffeine

If the day won’t hold any fear

And the clouds in my head will finally clear

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

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