Woss Happenin?

Woss Happenin?

Everything’s falling to bits,

Nothing’s the same any more:

Helicopters don’t stay in the sky –

They hit cranes and fall to the floor.

Things aren’t what they might seem:

You can’t trust what they tell you -

The Dreamliners have nightmares

And technical problems too.

The Internet is eating the world,

There’s no shops left on the High Street:

Not only Jessops and HMV,

But now Blockbuster’s admitted defeat.

And Rio Tinto walks into a wall,

Which is as bad as it gets.

The CEO’s taken his long walk,

For under-valuing their assets.

I think I’m going to go back in my shell,

I think I’m admitting defeat.

Can’t even do comfort eating,

Cos my burgers are full of horse-meat.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 19th August 2018

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 19^th August 2018

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

1.   Memorial services will be held next week for the many local snowflakes who were slightly offended when one of their Facebook pages collapsed, losing many selfies and comments, and injuring many feelings.  There has been a call for a public enquiry into this major tragedy that has affected the town so badly.  It has been suggested that the page was not strong enough because of the way it had been constructed by the Web Mafia Group, but no-one is about to publicly say so.

2.  And a man has been charged with terrorist offences after deliberately driving his car at high speed through the Market Place, before failing to stop at a zebra crossing, and crashing into the one remaining bollard outside the Town Hall.  His main crime, according to police, was his utter failure to actually take out any local councillors, leaving every one of them still alive and uninjured. 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Living

Living

everything is here

that could possibly be needed

for a careless, easy life

all that can be metered in clothes and cars

every modern convenience

every appliance, every gadget

shining sheet glass and steel

polished by the daily help

each room a showcase

of angles, clean lines

witness the good, the better things

from a lifetime’s striving

long-houred, hard working

trophies of success

nothing is missing

a sense of completeness

settles like a shroud

there are no loose ends

nor material wants and needs

that remain un-satisfied

we may go anywhere, at any time

at a moment’s notice

to fulfil the slightest whim

or the merest craving, our heart’s desire

and suck the juice until it’s dry

and yet

 and yet

 and yet

through this mogadon movie

of shining achievement

whilst we sleep in splendour

a spirit creeps about at night

breathes hoarsely

whispers insistently

an un-nameable something

and will not be still

and in the morning

when we awake, un-refreshed

we still ache inside

with that empty feeling of nothing

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Don't Ask Me

Don’t Ask Me

I’m happy to give of my opinion, if you want to hear what I think.

That is, when I’m down at the pub, with my mates, just having a drink.

But at home, it’s a different story, and one that causes me strife.

For there we have the fount of all knowledge, and it’s not me, it’s the wife!

For she’s got strong views on every topic: there’s no subject on which she hasn’t a take.

She’s an expert in every field you can name, no interest in which she hasn’t a stake.

Tho’ she is my love and my darling, my dearest, my treasure, my dear,

She’s got a fearsome way of talking that inspires a goodly portion of fear.

Across the marmalade at breakfast, I’m on The Guardian, but she reads the Express.

She chokes on her toast and she fulminates, and the crumbs she exhales make quite a mess.

You see she’s got a very firm stance on every social policy and decision,

Religion, the Royal Family, and even on female circumcision.

I can’t get a word in edgeways sometimes, as she dispels any kind of confusion.

She’s got the answer to everything, and for every problem, a solution.

Professors, doctors and researchers, who’ve spent a life-time studying ideas,

Stand for nothing in her onslaught, as she contradicts them with jeers.

Economics, world hunger and AIDS, she can hold forth without pause,

So it’s pointless you asking me, you’d best check with ‘er indoors.

Immigration, emigration, benefit cheats, foreign policy, football or cricket,

It’s best to listen, not interrupt, or she’ll tell you where you can stick it.

Decoration? Fashion? Or trends?   the one who knows where it’s at.

Northern Ireland? Palestine? Or Syria?  She says what she thinks, and that’s that!

Homophobia, xenophobia, and prejudice of every kind,

Could be banished within a few minutes, if she gave you a piece of her mind!

She knows what’s wrong with everything, she’s clear how things ought to be done,

There’s little she can’t address herself to, and for her, there’s nothing new under the sun.

If only people would listen to her, the world could be a much better place,

There’d be no fighting, or wars or disease, and evil would be gone without trace.

Her polemical style is worse than Jon Humphrys, and on bad days compares with Paxman.

Politics is her specialist subject, and don’t get her started about the tax-man.

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking, that she’s incredibly well meant,

That she should perhaps become an MP, and see how she gets on in Parliament.

But it’s far too late for that, I’m afraid, for such a roll of the dice:

As Conservative Central Office already ring daily, just to ask her advice.

No, there’s no situation she can’t handle, there’s not a dogma she won’t fight:

If you’re looking for a policy statement, she’s the one who’ll provide a sound-bite.

She’s never ready to settle for nonsense, and she can’t abide the status quo.

She doesn’t know the meaning of silence, but, for God’s sake, don’t tell her I said so!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Pickled Beetroot

Recipe for: Pickled BEETROOT

Ingredients:

• 1-2 kg fresh beetroot
• Malt vinegar to cover
• ½ tsp sugar

 Method:

1. wash & sterilise several medium/ large sealable jars
2. wash the beetroot, then top & tail but do not peel
3. put into a large pan & cover with fresh water
4. bring to the boil, then simmer until the beets are just tender – this depends on the size of the beets, but you want them al dente, not overcooked
5. drain & allow to cool
6. when cold, peel the beets (the skins should come off very easily) and slice them into rounds (unless the are very small, in which case keep them whole)
7. pack the beets carefully & tightly into the jars
8. add ½ tsp sugar to each jar, then top up with the vinegar
9. shake the jars carefully and/ or use a knife to get all the trapped air-bubbles out
10. ensure the jars are filled right up to the neck, but do not leave the last slice of beetroot exposed
11. seal tightly, label & store in a dark cupboard for a couple of months before using

What else you need to know:

1. be very careful – beetroot juice stains everything it comes into contact with
2. once a jar is opened, store in the fridge & use within two weeks
3. beetroot leaves, when young & tender are great in salads

Space Force

Space Force

You really couldn’t make any of this up

What’s been happening just over The Pond

The orange man with the comb-over

Has announced they’re off to Mars And Beyond

The planets and stars are no longer safe

For I have it from a reliable source

They’d like to stop immigration by aliens

And they’re going to call it the Space Force

You might think it’s all Science Fiction

But it seems our human future’s sealed

For instead of peace and co-operation

They’ve already dubbed it The Next Battlefield

It’s not NASA but a military branch

They’re looking for control and conquest

Space traffic management of the best

Ordered up at their own behest

I thought it was just Trump having a jest

He couldn’t possibly be serious I’d guessed

But, no, this is no sort of test

He wants dominance for the West

Since mankind’s relatively recent birth

We’ve quickly made a mess of the Earth

Wasted resources, now there’s a dearth

Is that really all it’s worth?

Not content with buggering up this world

Committing global crimes that are heinous

They’re taking on the whole solar system

And one of the next steps is apparently Venus

Perhaps he’s been reading too many comics

And is worried about Little Green Men

Inter-galactic missiles and flying saucers

Invasion being not a matter of “if” but only of “when”

Perhaps he’s afraid when he’s sleeping at night

Perhaps he hears Martians rattling the locks

Maybe he dreams of wielding a light-sabre

To fight off the Klingons and Ewoks?

This is bonkers it’s apparent to me

Humanity working together is key

Not the Yanks dictating how it’ll be

I hope you’ll have to agree

They’re just taking the pee

In the so-called Land Of The Free

  

We can’t let them go over to the Dark Side

Nor go along with them just for the ride

Stick our heads in the sand and hide

We have to stand up to this warmongering tide

And let common sense be our guide

So space becomes not the Great Divide

We need exploration, scientific discovery

Making best use of whatever we find

Bringing benefits to all of humanity

Supporting the whole of mankind

Please let’s keep outer space neutral

Boldly going where no man has gone before

Our planet’s not The Final Frontier

Let’s not close that particular door

So never mind “Infinity and Beyond”

Let’s be sensible whatever we do

Thanks for listening to this rant

And “May The Force Be With You”

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Girl On The Number Forty-Seven

(Girl On The) Number Forty-Seven

Monday to Friday it’s always the same,

Off to work, to carry the load:

Waiting, whatever the weather,

For that bus to trundle down the road.

Route forty-seven is the number I need,

Though other numbers stop there too.

There’s jostling, and pushing and shoving,

As we stand there in the queue.

Sometimes it’s full and we can’t board,

Or perhaps there’s some spaces upstairs,

Then you have to get up there quickly,

And wait for the man collecting the fares.

But there’s one thing that I look out for,

That makes my journey complete:

The girl with the long blonde hair,

And she’s always there in the same seat.

She rides the upper deck near the front,

Staring from the window, calm and serene.

She’s beautiful and desirable -

I’m sure you know what I mean.

I wonder where she goes to each day,

And what could be her destination,

Cos I have to get off before she does,

As I continue my journey from the station.

I admire her, from my seat here at the back,

Though of me I’m sure she’s quite unaware.

I don’t even know what I’d say to her,

But I try and get as close as I dare.

She seems so cool, and calm and complete,

She looks so happy, assured and care-free.

I think she’s in a league way above me,

And I doubt if she’s ever noticed me.

So day after day, I just think about her,

And carry on without any fuss.

I don’t even know what her name is,

She’s just “the girl on the forty-seven bus”.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018