A New Folk Song For Modern England

A New Folk Song For Modern England (based on an old Wiltshire goat-nadgering ballad). It shows that country pursuits may leave a lot to be desired. 

As I walked out one May morning,

My fortune for to seek,

My way was suddenly blocked,

By a Tesco trolley blocking the creek.

 

I started to push on with my quest,

And tried to cross over using a log,

But the wood was all slippery,

And quickly I fell into the bog.

 

I came out smelling of diesel & worse,

My clothes all muddy & rank.

I was all soaking & smelly,

As I slowly crawled up the bank.

 

I carried on with my walk, ever bold,

Hoping a young maiden to sight,

But I’d got twigs in my hair:

And I must have looked quite a fright.

 

I then came out of those sylvan woods,

Leaving behind my rural bower,

But soon the day turned out nasty,

With gentle rain, later turning to showers.

 

I pushed on through the country,

And down to the meadow that day,

For I fancied myself dancing,

All among the new-mown hay.

 

Imagine my surprise when I arrived:

I suppose it was my bad fate.

Instead of the green meadow,

I found a new-built housing estate.

 

I looked to the woods where I used to wander.

Fences and barbed wire now blocked the way,

And the foot-path was well diverted,

Away from where we used to go play.

 

I determined not to give in so easy,

And across the valley I attempted to gaze,

But I couldn’t see nothing out there,

Due to all the pollution and haze.

 

But finally I spied a pretty fair maid,

A-wandering alone on the moor,

And bounding right up to her,

I said I’d walk her back to her door.

 

“Nay, lad” the maid said unto me.

“It’s not going home that I’m wanting to go.

I’m running away, and I’m starving.

But you can buy me a MacDonalds, though.” 

 

I said I hoped we could lie down in the meadow,

For it was a great day to go courtin’.

She told me to get lost and scram,

And with me she wouldn’t be sportin’.

 

She said she was allergic to rape-seed,

And other farm pesticides:

It was sprayed all over the place,

And I looked such a mess, besides.

 

We couldn’t walk no farther that way,

We’d have to take different directions.

The fields were all fenced off now,

Due to Health & Safety restrictions.

 

In the end I gave up on my conquest,

For the day had turned out to be crap

It may be the early bird catches the worm

But the second mouse gets the cheese in the trap!

 

This folk-song lark’s not all it’s cracked up to be;

My nerves are all knotted & frayed.

Whatever the merits of Olde England,

There must be easier ways to get laid.

 

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Fish & Chips

Fish & Chips

Stranded in a strange city recently whilst working away on business, I was staying at a local B&B. 

As there was no dinner on offer, and finding that my hunger pangs were starting, I set out in search of some fish & chips.  I really fancied some fish and chips.

I couldn’t wait to smell the hot fat, to see the glistening golden batter, to eat the mushy peas, the whole lot drowned in salt and vinegar.  My mouth watered in anticipation.

My appetite thus whetted, I set off into the night to seek my quarry. 

The trouble was I’d no idea where to go, as I wandered onto the nearby High Street. 

I decided to stop and ask directions of a man just passing by.  He looked like a local.

“Excuse me,’ I said.  “Are you a local?  Do you know the area?”

“Yes,” he said.  “Are you lost?”

“Not exactly,” I said.  “I’m looking for a fish & chip shop.  I really fancy some fish & chips.”

“No problem,” he replied.  “I can tell you exactly where to go.”

The directions he gave me were as follows:

-        Straight along here for 50 yards.  Go past Chick-O-Land, The Chicken Box and KFC

-        Turn left by Tennessee Chicken.  There’s a branch of Cluck-It on the opposite corner

-        Go past King Chicken, Chunky Chicken and USA Fried Chicken, but not quite as far as Chicken Ranch

-        Hang a right turn.  You’ll see Mister Chicken, Favourite Fried Chicken and Dixie Chicken on your left

-        And New York Chicken, Chick-O-Lite and Chick-O-Land will be on your right

-        Carry on along there for 100 yards or so till you reach Chicken Cottage

-        Turn left at Sam’s Chicken, past Chicken House and Best Fried Chicken

-        Until you see Mother Clucker and Coq Fighter

-        Now this is the only tricky bit – ignore Krunchy Fried Chicken and Lulu’s Chicken

-        And keep to the left of Chicken Shop and Chicken Town

-        Go past Chicken-Fil-A, El Pollo Loco, and Finger-Lickin’ Chicken

-        This’ll bring you out into the Market Place.  So you’ll see branches of Chickin-Lickin, Chicken Dippers, Land-O-Chicken, Wing Stop, Thunderbird, Red Rooster, and World-O-Chicken

-        Cross over into the far corner between Church’s Chicken and Chick-Chick-Chicken

-        And it’s down that road – you can’t miss it!

I thanked him for his help, turned my collar against the wind, and set off into the night

Finally I reached my destination and in the distance I could see the illuminated sign – “In Cod We Trust”

I rushed into the shop, tired and hungry after my trek, looking forward to my meal

“Large cod, chips and mushy peas, please!” I cried in exhaustion and relief.

The rotund gentlemen behind the counter, the Fat Frier responded in the negative

“Sorry mate – you’re too late.  I’ve just completely sold out of fish!”

“Oh no!” I ejaculated, the disappointment in my voice as clear as a bear’s intention when entering a wood

“But I’m starving!  And I’ve come all this way!”

“No worries mate,” he responded calmly.  “I can easily fry you some chicken!”

I ran from the shop screaming.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Clearing Out The Freezer

Clearing Out The Freezer

Last week I decided to defrost the freezer

Cause the door wouldn’t close any more

The ice had continued to build up

And icicles were covering the floor

 

It’s a ritual that we all have to endure

One that fills us with justified fears

But you’ve got to do it pretty regular

Well – let’s say at least once every five years

 

I disconnected the power – a simple first step

And left it to get itself started over-night

But when I woke up next morning

The shelves were still jammed solid alright

 

I decided it needed some help to get going

And set about it with a big hair-drier

This’ll soon melt the ice, I thought

This’ll get it off to a flier

 

But nothing seemed to do much good

The perma-frost was still inches thick

So I started hacking it with various tools

A knife, a saw, a hatchet and a bloody big stick

 

It was very slow going through the pack-ice

Several crevasses I had to unpick

I was soon surrounded by icebergs

And felt like Scott of the Antarctic

 

Finally the ice came away in lumps and in cubes

But the knife-edge slipped onto my wrist

There was torn flesh and rivers of blood -

Well I’m sure that you get the gist

 

Slowly the great melt had set in

The water flowed in huge floods

I wrenched out the top drawer

And at last I could get to my goods

 

The kitchen was awash with the deluge

Buckets and mops were in demand

The freezer floated slowly around

As if it was looking for the nearest dry land

 

Gradually I gained access to the interior

To the shelves and the mysterious drawers

To the frozen packages held therein

And I rushed to discover them without pause 

 

Well, it was like opening a treasure chest

Or going on a magical mystery tour

To dig out the long-lost containers

And wonder what any of them were for

 

The labels had all faded or melted away

So no clues as to what was therein

No idea when they’d been squirreled away

It was hard to know where to begin.

 

It’s amazing how frozen food all looks the same

When it’s covered in crystals of ice

One lot of gloop looks like another

Was it something disgusting or nice?

 

Did I really freeze two spoonfuls of fried rice?

Are these pork sausages or somebody’s fingers?

There’s curry stains on the side of the boxes

It’s yellow and the smell of it lingers.

 

It was when I got down to the bottom

When I got past the things that were mere filler

That I began to have some tiny regrets

About my previous life as a serial killer

 

The hands, the feet and the arms

Were well wrapped up as a disguise

Was that somebody’s nose and their ears?

Was that a skull with still-frozen eyes?

 

A leg and piece of somebody’s back

A few ribs, a couple of kidneys and a liver

I only barely remember cutting the guy up

The blood must have flowed like a river

 

Still, I can’t be bothering with that now

There’s no way of getting around it

I’ll just do what everyone else does

And stuff it all back in where I found it!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 27th June 2021

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 27^th June 2021 

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

1.      Diplomatic relations with Trowvegas plummeted further this week after several episodes of international willy-waving along the canal.  D-Town, exercising its rights to transit sections of the waterway by sending a narrow-boat (Defender) down beyond the Caen Hill flight of locks, was confronted in politically-disputed waters near Martinslade.  Insults were traded via loud-hailer, bus routes were threatened with diversions, and ducks & geese were disturbed.  Both sides reported different versions of events, but no damage was sustained, and no lock-gates were left open. 

2.      And late last night, Matt Handon-Cock, D-Town’s Health Officer, resigned from office after he was caught by several different security cameras around the town engaging in various acts of anti-social behaviour, including spitting, littering, vandalism, being drunk & disorderly, insulting behaviour, public indecency, threatening a police officer, and attempted rape.  He later claimed that he had not been aware of any cameras, or otherwise he would have gone elsewhere to commit his various offences.  His political career in tatters, he is said to want to spend less time with his wife and children, and much more time with his mistress.  He thought it better to be up-front about this, as he did not wish there to be any suggestion of hypocrisy. 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Old-Age Wealth

Old-Age Wealth

People told me that as I got older

I’d lose what was left of my health

That with my pension I’d get poorer

And fail to hang on to my wealth

 

But that couldn’t be further from the truth!

That statement’s completely unfair

Cos I’ve loads of gold in my teeth

And silver streaks through my hair

 

My skin’s turned nearly copper

Because I use plenty of oil

I’ve acquired many pearls of wisdom

Through so many years of toil

 

I’ve got crystals in my kidneys

And sugar runs in my blood

There’s platinum in my hip now

Surely that’s got to be good?

 

There’s plenty of iron in my diet

The spinach is not easy to pass

And thanks to all the beans that I’m eating

An inexhaustible supply of natural gas!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Trout with Herbs & Lemon

Recipe for: TROUT with HERBS & LEMON 

Ingredients: 

• Two or four trout fillets
• 2 oz butter
• Handful mixed fresh herbs (parsley, chives, thyme, tarragon – whatever is to hand)
• One lemon
• Salt & freshly-ground pepper
• Little olive oil 

Method: 

1. Heat the oven to 190C/ 175C fan.
2. If the fish is/ are whole, remove heads, tails & main backbone (or get fishmonger to do it for you).  You want two/ four neat fillets so that the fish can be flattened
3. Oil a large baking sheet
4. Put the fish on the baking sheet, skin-side down
5. In a bowl, mix together the finely-chopped herbs with the butter & salt/ pepper
6. Liberally spread the mixture over the fillets
7. Squeeze the lemon over a small sieve to catch the pips, to let the juice run all over the fish
8. Bake in the oven for about 20/ 25 minutes depending on size/ thickness of fillets 

What else you need to know: 

1. Serve with a simple fresh green salad and some crusty bread to mop up any juices

 

I'm In Love With My Life-Guard

I’m In Love With My Life-guard

 

I’m in love with my life-guard

She’s safely watching over me

As I thrash around in the water

And I think her name is Emily

 

I’m in love with my life-guard

Her lovely hair is long and fair

As the swimmers do their lengths

She gazes from high up in her chair

 

I’m in love with my life-guard

Though she never notices me

Perhaps some day she’ll save my life

What a miracle that would be

 

I’m in love with my life-guard

Though it’s hopeless I can see

She’s staring out above me

And I think her name is Emily

 

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

So Close

So Close

I watched that film again today

It’s old and the quality is poor

It only lasts a few short minutes

Showing life as it was once before

 

The footage is jerky and grainy

Flickering, faulting, the focus all over the place

The horses and carts, the men in their hats

The girls in their bonnets, hiding their face

 

Taken from the front of a rolling tram

It follows tracks from the centre of town

Up the hill, and along Manningham Lane

As far as the park, then turning back round

 

And I know every one of these houses and streets

Every tram-stop along the way

It might have been a hundred years ago

But to me it looks like only yesterday

 

And it’s more than just the memories.

The familiarity and the knowledge of years –

There’s something about almost being there

That brings me very close to tears

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Girl Leaving

Girl Leaving

It’s that time late Sunday afternoon

A time that both of us has got to know

There’s just no way of avoiding

The curfew when you have to go

 

I’ll tidy away the abandoned coffee cups

The two empty bottles of red wine

The plates we left in the kitchen

One of them yours, one of them mine

 

I’ll make the bed and straighten the sheets

Clear away the mess that we left behind

It’s a kind of displacement activity

Or some phrase of that kind

 

The weekends are always too short

Precious time that we’ve stolen away

But a few more memorable moments

Before the onslaught of another Monday

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Stone

Stone

They’re going to bombard it

With short pulses of ultrasound

The doctor sounds quite confident

That it won’t long be around

 

They hope it’ll break into pieces

Fragment into passable bits

But I’m not quite so optimistic

In fact it’s giving me the shits

 

What if it hurts?  What if it’s painful?

I’m not so sure that I’ll cope

I have to trust in these medical men

All that I can do now is to hope

 

The next stage is the laser

But that’s not much to my liking

Then keyhole surgery if it gets desperate

To kick the ass of this alien thing

 

It’s grim and it’s aching all day

It niggles inside of my kidney

But I’ve just got to get rid of it

Just how hard can this lozenge be?

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 20th June 2021

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 20^th June 2021 

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

1.      A tense morning in D-Town as many men wake up dreading the fall of the cards onto the mat, discovering (often for the first time) which particular ones of the town’s feral children are claiming to be their legal and biological offspring.  There had been moves in the Town Council to delay Father’s Day from its announced date by a month due to fears over rising Covid infections, but this was defeated by an unholy alliance of Fathers For Justice, The Bucketheads, and the Monster Raving Loony Party. 

2.      And political shockwaves also ran through Council when the result of the Amersham by-election were announced, proving that the Blue Wall could be breached by the Yellow Peril.  It is now hoped to build a Red Wall, or a Green Wall, perhaps even an Orange or Purple Wall, any kind or colour of wall, just to bring down the local Tory Undemocratic Radical Dogbeaters (TURDs) at the next round of elections. 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Oblivion

Oblivion

It is the fear that drives me

That informs my thoughts

The fear of the possible pain to come

The misery and the suffering

The indignity and the shame

At final journey’s end

Not knowing how deep that well may be

That I must tumble into

 

The fear of missing-out

Of no longer being involved

The not knowing what happens

To my people, those I love

In the soap opera of their lives

The thought that others will continue

To live their lives, when I do not

That the play will go on to the next act

Long after I make my final exit

Everything gone

Everything lost

 

Better far for it all to be over

Quick and sudden, un-signalled

A total not-knowing-ness

Before and when it happens

Like falling into deep and dreamless sleep

From which one never wakes

That one does not know

Or the instant loss of consciousness

From the kindly anaesthetic

 

Then a different state of not-being

No knowledge, no knowing

No memory whatever

An empty obsidian darkness

A thoughtless depth of blackness

An indescribable emptiness

A black hole of nothingness

Profound and endless

That absorbs everything

That has no dimension

In time or space

But just is

 

No time for regret

Or shame or worry

No anxiety

Just gone

Done

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

O Lucky Man

O Lucky Man

My life has been a charmed existence

Dodging all the bullets of life

Nothing has badly gone wrong

No worries, no gut-wrenching strife

 

Clever enough to go to Grammar School & University

Born with brains enough to get through

Whilst there were still grants – no student debt

It was simple enough to remain true

 

Born after rationing, and National Service

In an age of medical break-throughs & vaccines

And the wonderful National Health Service

Even being ill was always within my means

 

But I never was ill, no accidents befell me

No condition, no cancer, never diseased

Born whole-limbed, not disabled, but intact

Able to live my life just as I pleased

 

Been no conflicts, so never got conscripted

Lived in a country with safety & the rule of the law

Where no hunger, or disease ever stalked the land

No floods, tornadoes, droughts, not even a war

 

No trouble getting married or having children

All born bright and perfectly healthy

Plenty of friends and family around

Earned enough money, but not wealthy

 

Good job, with lots of promotions & responsibilities

A gold-plated pension in a well-paid career

Worldwide assignments, saw the world travelling

Always comfortable, never felt fear

 

Well-off enough to retire earlier than most

Happy enough with how things worked out

Plenty of hobbies to fill up the time

Future never really in doubt

 

The planet’s not fallen apart quite yet

But it’s almost ready to throw in the hat

It’ll all come off the rails after I’m gone

But I’ll even be spared witnessing that

 

The Universe has been kindly to me

And dealt me good cards, a good hand

I don’t know what I did to deserve this

But it seems I’ve been a very lucky man

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Chicken & Sweetcorn Chowder

Recipe for: CHOWDER – CHICKEN & SWEETCORN 

Ingredients: 

• 1 tblsp sunflower oil
• 1 knob butter
• 1 – 2 large onions, peeled & finely chopped
• 1 – 2 stick celery, cleaned & finely chopped
• 1 large leek, washed & chopped
• 1 large potato, peeled & roughly chopped
• Salt & freshly-ground pepper
• 1 pt fresh chicken vegetable stock (or slightly more)
• ½ pint milk
• ¼ pt single cream
• 1 whole chicken
• 4 – 6 boneless, skinless chicken thighs
• Corn from one large cob (or use tinned)
• Handful of chopped fresh parsley 

Method: 

1. Roast the whole chicken, cool and dismember/ carve
2. Reserve all the bones, skin etc for making chicken stock
3. Cut/ carve the meat into small bite-size pieces
4. Roast or fry the boneless thighs, cool and cut up. 
5. Combine with the whole roasted chicken meat and set aside
6. Cook the corn (if using fresh cob) and reserve cooking liquor
7. Remove the corn from the cob & set aside
8. heat oil and butter in a large flameproof casserole over a medium heat
9. add all the chopped vegetables & stir well to coat in the oil/ butter
10. cook gently, stirring occasionally until lightly coloured and softened about 10-15 minutes
11. add the stock & bring up to a slow simmer
12. cover with a lid & leave to cook for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, adding more stock/ water if it is getting dry
13. check with the point of a knife that the vegetables are cooked & quite soft
14. remove from the heat & cool slightly
15. remove about half of the mixture and liquidise with a hand-held liquidiser
16. return to the pan and add the sweetcorn and the chicken & juices
17. bring to a simmer and add the milk, cream and parsley
18. taste & adjust seasoning
19. if it’s thicker than you like your soup, add a little water/ stock
20. Serve the soup in warmed bowls, ideally with corn-bread

 

 

Don't Get Me Started

Don’t Get Me Started

“Hell is other people” said my mate Jean-Paul Sartre,

When he felt his nose was put out of joint,

But it’s awful the way that some people behave,

So I think he might have had a point

 

For life is full of many other frustrations

Designed, it seems, to drive me completely nuts

To imbue a mounting sense of futility

And to constantly grind away in my guts

 

Take the case of spinach, for example

A substance green, with the texture of snot

It’s claimed to be an iron-rich vegetable

But a fan of it I’m definitely not

 

Just don’t get me started on things that drive me mad

So many things that are just plain bad

Like food served on rectangular house slates

Instead of on proper round plates

And if I’d wanted my chips served in a basket

Then I’d have bloomin’ well asked for it

 

Mowing the lawn, waking before dawn

Tuna sandwiches with sweetcorn

You’ll probably hear me loudly mutter

About the disgusting snack of crunchy peanut butter

 

Beard-and-sandal-wearing lefties make me feel pale

In their relentless pursuit of craft real ale

Don’t mention quinoa, or green kale

 

People from Devon & Cornwall leave me fit to burst

Debating whether it’s cream or jam first

Their arguments I’d really like to shatter

Cos after all – it really doesn’t matter!

 

Littering, spitting and not picking up dog-shit

Foul & abusive language, and that’s not nearly the end of it

For I can no longer keep dumb

Over the curse of discarded chewing-gum

 

People who abuse disabled parking bays and signs

People who can’t park between the white lines

People who drive with no lights in the dark

People with cars they don’t know how to park

Sales reps with flash cars as their perks

And people that own BMWs, Audis and Mercs

SUVs on the pavement, hazard-lights flashing

Whilst into the shops their just dashing

The arrogance, the privilege I’d like to stem

As if the rules don’t apply equally to them

 

Cruelty to animals, fox-hunting and hare-coursing

Money-laundering, people-trafficking and labour-forcing

Queue-pushers, cold-callers and online scams

Facial recognition, CCTV and web-cams

Call centres, endless menus, and being on hold

Repeating the same information that you’ve already told

Automated supermarket self-service checkouts

Lager louts & ticket touts

Overcooked sprouts

People who eat smelly food on the train

Who don’t wash and smell like a drain

Boiled onions with tripe

Religious fundamentalists of ANY stripe

And I’ll tell you who’s a particular menace –

People talking about golf, or ski-ing, or tennis!

 

Unattended children & babies that scream

Mewling infants that shatter your dreams

Folks that won’t play as part of the team

People offended by everything it seems

Pre-packaged food & airline meals

Individual sachets with impenetrable seals

 

To listen to other people’s dreams is so dull

But better than people who talk with their mouth full

Charlatans, career politicians and liars

Climate-change deniers

People who are constantly late

Who are totally inarticulate

Who start every utterance with “so…”

When it’s their turn to go

People so posh they can’t talk

And eat bananas with a knife and a fork

 

Shop assistants who ignore a long queue

Then talk to someone else when dealing with you

People who can’t hold their booze

Stag parties and hen do’s

And what drives me right up the pole

Are dogs that are out of control

Their owners amused by my fright

Saying “he doesn’t often bite”

 

If only everyone was as tolerant as me

Things wouldn’t be so bad, sadly

You see the problem’s not really me

It’s all the others behaving quite badly

So if you don’t want to be really down-hearted

It’s a good job that you didn’t get me started!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Pain

Pain

Never dialled 999 before

Never knew how pain could cripple me

Never been in such agony before

Never knew how long two hours could be

 

Never been in A&E before

At any time of day or night

Never met Sister Morphine before

Never known such sweet delight

 

Never realised how frightened I could be

Staring hard into the unknown

It doesn’t matter who else is with you

You’re really facing it on your own

 

Pain is such a personal thing

And it carries all before

Obliterates every other feeling

Kicks every emotion out the door

 

And when it’s finally gone away

When the drugs have kicked its ass

It’s almost impossible to remember

How such terror could have ever come to pass

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Magic

Magic

This is the face of Everyman

Dressed in casual shoes and jeans

There’s not a thing remarkable about him

But he’s more than he might seem

 

He wears a cheap and nasty watch

His glasses are smeared and show the dirt

His teeth are small and crooked

And he’s spilt some lunch all down his shirt

 

But he knows what he’s talking about

As he skims quickly through my notes

I’m know that I’m going to trust his judgement

And that he’s going to get my vote

 

For he’s a consultant and a surgeon

The man that will wield the knife

You say surgical procedure: I call it magic

Either way, he’s the man who’ll save my life

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 13th June 2021

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 13^th June 2021

 

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

1.      Football mania has invaded the town with the opening of the Pan-Wiltshire Anusol 2020 tournament (delayed from last year due to general lack of interest in anything that didn’t have Covid in the title).  Teams from across Wiltshire will contest the world’s most boring trophy, through a system of group matches, seedings, byes, bungs and bribes until the last two teams standing play out the final in front of the massed crowds of whoever turns up.  Fanzones have been created in the town centre, not so much to accommodate the special needs of thuggish football fans, but more to help the massive police presence of nearly five officers to watch for trouble by keeping them all in one place. 

2.      Meanwhile, cricket  mania has now almost completed subsided as teams get completely fed up of playing each other in this most boring of games. After long lay-offs through last year, the easing of Covid restrictions has meant that teams’ initial enthusiasm to get back out there playing again has completely worn off. The pitches have never been greener, the boundary ropes whiter, the cream teas more delicious, and the umpires more capricious, and yet the old thrill has gone.  Instead the teams have taken to watching Test cricket on the TV, opening another can of beer and slapping another flaccid sausage on the BBQ. 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

 

Hashtag#

Hashtag#

Full stops bring us to an ending,

A closing of the subject or the sentence

And don’t get me going on connectors

A colonising colon

A sexy semi-colon

Or a dangling dash

Perhaps even a fading ellipsis…

Hinting that the sentence is not quite over

A feeling that there is still yet more

A suggestion of other possibilities…

 

And those other inflectors of punctuation

The question and exclamation marks

To create the question or the drama

Or those bristling brackets

Those luggage-expanding little marks

That let you cram in a little bit more

That will not quite fit in what you say

 

Ah, but if there were only one more way

To cast a smile or shadow over what’s just been said?

To add a note of humour, aching sadness, or wistfulness

Summary or sarcasm that makes the point?

A visual hint that means something more

To show that you’re up-to-date

Down with the kids and the twitterati?

 

Hashtag #punctuation

Hashtag #proseemoji

Hashtag #signofourtimes

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

I Am The People

I Am The People

When I heard you on the door-step

Talking several years ago

And when I walked into the polling-both

To scrawl my precious cross

You thanked me for my vote

And said, for all the world to hear,

That “the people” had spoken

And I was glad that I had gained a voice

 

But when the politics had shifted

And the breeze had changed direction

You started saying something different

Things that I no longer wanted

And when I spoke up to object

You said, for all the world hear,

That “the people” had already spoken

And that I was simply wrong

 

When I supported your position

It seems I was “the people”

But when I say something different

Stand up for what I believe

You claim that I am misinformed

That I cannot ever change my mind

That “the people” cannot be denied

And that I no longer have a voice

 

So I ask this question once again

Who are “the people” now?

Just the ones who agree with what you do?

That keep you in your power?

Or is it really everyone?

Just those that have a vote

Or those that are yet to grow

And become “the people” of tomorrow?

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

 

Sorry, Not Sorry

Sorry, Not Sorry

Jealous, not jealous

Of your greasy pie and chips

Your kebab and all the trimmings

Your mango-scented vape

And your foaming pint of lager

Dripping across the sticky carpet-scape

 

Jealous, not jealous

Of your fortnight in Ibiza

With the other British Bulldogs

Soaking up a foreign sun

Showing off your copper spray-tan

Having noisy drunken fun

 

Jealous, not jealous

Of your hard-as-nails appearance

With your Peaky Blinders hair-cut

The best that Razor King can do

Your complementary facial piercings

And your lurid neck tattoos

 

Jealous, not jealous

Of your cert insider tip-off

From a bloke who works next door

For the three-thirty this afternoon

Not worth an each-way bet

Cash can’t come around too soon

 

Jealous, not jealous

As I stand behind you in the shop

Waiting with your copy of The Sun

Muscled t-shirted dude

Spending more on scratchcards

Than you ever do on food

 

Sorry, not sorry

That I cannot join your world

Glory in your nationalism

Or see things the way you do

You wouldn’t want me anyway

And I sure as hell don’t want you

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Oh Fuck! I've Made A Triolet

Oh Fuck! I’ve Made A Triolet!

God but knows what I did just there

Oh fuck! I’ve made a triolet!

Before I didn’t even dare

God but knows what I did just there

It’s not even that I bloody care

If only there were more to say!

God but knows what I did just there

Oh fuck! I’ve made a triolet!

 

© Andy Fawthrop 2021

 

And Still

And Still

And still we live, and still we rise

Though the news is breaking bad

Corruption comes as no surprise

And still we live and still we rise

In spite of those that we despise

The world it seems is going mad

And still we live, and still we rise

Though the news is breaking bad

 

© Andy Fawthrop 2021

I'm In Love With A Lady Engine-Driver

I’m In Love With A Lady Engine-Driver

I’m in love with a lady engine-driver

Looks like we’re well on track

I’ve found she’s just the ticket

Hope we never have to look back

 

I’m in love with a lady engine-driver

She drives all over this nation

I hope I’m not just a passenger

Courting way above my station

 

I’m in love with a lady engine-driver

I hope that we can travel far

It’s still early in the journey

But the signals are looking good so far

 

I’m in love with a lady-engine-driver

Hope our coupling’s not ill-starred

But she knows how to conduct herself

And I’m keeping on my guard

 

I’m in love with a lady-engine driver

She’s my Virgin railway pass

Not any kind of common traveller

But right up there in First Class

 

I’m in love with a lady engine-driver

Sometimes she lets me stay all night

She really has some great points

And she’s giving me the green light!

 

I’m in love with a lady engine-driver

I’m all steamed up

That we’ve teamed up

I like her carriage

It might lead to marriage

I hope this miss’ll

Wet my whistle

That we won’t be cancelled or delayed

That our love will never fade

 

I’m in love with a lady engine-driver

I’m really chuffed

That we’ve huffed and puffed

She’s a lovely sleeper

She’s a real keeper

I hope that she’s forever mine

And doesn’t shunt me off her main line

That our loving never fails

And doesn’t go off the rails 

 

I’m in love with a lady engine-driver

She looks good in reds and blues

She’ got a lovely pair of buffers

Standing there in her platform shoes

 

I’m in love with a lady engine-driver

Everything’s now in train

I think she’s the real goods

Please let it not go down the drain!

 

Yes, I’m in love with a lady engine-driver

I guess I’m really nervous

In case I get shunted into a siding

And become her rail replacement service

 

Yes, I’m in love with a lady engine-driver

The very thought of her makes me tingle

So I hope that she’ll return each night

And that I’ll never again have to travel single

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 6th June 2021

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 6^th June 2021

 

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

1.      D-Town’s traffic-light system was thrown into chaos this week when all sets at all road junctions were randomly set to display different colours.  Motorists proceeding on Green were accused of going through Amber, whilst others who knew they were on Amber suddenly found themselves on Red or Green.  Other motorists puzzled over the meanings of Blue and Magenta lights, and police were forced to admit that the new Black signals had not proved to be a complete success.  Following the decision to change the colours, there was an unseemly scramble to book bus journeys before the lights turned white, meaning that travellers would have to quarantine in a Trowvegas hotel for ten days at their own expense. 

2.      Large areas of the Wiltshire coastline were closed by police today in preparation for the meeting of the CFO’s of Wiltshire’s greatest towns (the W7 conference).  It is thought that the agenda will include such key issues as the routing of the 49 bus once it leaves Trowvegas on week-day evenings after 19.30 (alternate Tuesdays only), parking charges in side-streets on market days, and why teenagers are such knobs for not taking their litter home after holding illegal raves and drugs parties. 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

 

Invasion

Invasion 

My bathroom’s been invaded

There’s wet patches on the mat

A new toothbrush is in the holder

It couldn’t be any plainer than that

 

An extra coat’s a-hanging on the peg

In the little rack along the wall

Another car’s parking in my drive-way

Because some-one’s started to call

 

I’m making double portions

Of all the meals I’m preparing

I’m getting through tea-bags faster

But it’s much more fun sharing

 

Clothing’s appeared inside the wardrobe

Where my old rags used to be

And the bed’s so much warmer now

Than when it was only little me

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021

An Appeal For Funds

An Appeal

It’s time to think of those less fortunate

So here is tonight’s charity appeal

It’s a cause that’s worth your attention

A situation that you might help to heal

 

It’s a real crisis, ladies and gentlemen

For which funds are urgently needed

To help save this endangered species

With a warning that must be heeded

 

It’s your chance to help the vulnerable

For it has come to our attention of late

That the human race is heading for extinction

And needs to face up to its fate

 

Humans are such beautiful creatures

That once were happy and healthy

But now they’re losing their habitat

In the pursuit of making themselves wealthy

 

Once they roamed all over their planet

But now there are so few left in the wild

Through pollution and starvation

There’s little chance for even a child

 

War, genocide and famine

They’ve endured each one of these

But they’ve failed to learn any lessons

And now suffer pestilence and disease

 

Just ten billions could make all the difference

Twenty-five would help ease some of their pain

Fifty would buy a survival kit or a gas-mask

A hundred wouldn’t be flushed down the drain

Please send whatever you can

Any cash you’re willing to spare

Show these humanoids that there’s a future

That somebody out there still cares

 

Just send it to this Freepost address

And if you’re in the slightest of doubt

Then mark the back of your envelope

Please stop buggering about!

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021