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So much to do

If we only had time

To halt the decline;

This means me and you

This issue is shared

Yours and mine.



So much to do

If we only had time

To halt the decline;

This means me and you

This issue is shared

Yours and mine.



So much to do

If we only had time

To halt the decline;

This means me and you

This issue is shared


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I’ll tell you what annoys me, seeing as you’re interested; and I can’t see me making many friends by this.  But for an international influencer like my good self this is secondary to exposing awkward truths.

And that’s motorists who don’t leave much room for me when I’m on my bike. (Cue vehement anti-cyclist/anti-motorist tirades).

And here’s the rub; they mostly seem to be women.

Don’t g...

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This phrase was the tipping point in every story sent into "Readers' Letters" of the soft porn mags of the 70's that I splashed out on.  The Marge Proops of sex advice was Fiona Richmond.  But I was on holiday at the time I wrote this and without "research resources" and remembered her name wrongly as Fiona Millicent.


Dear Fiona Millicent, I write about an incident

Which happened on a g...

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I’m intrigued by this scene which crops up many times as a theatrical device in TV and film dramas.  You know what I’m talking about; the couple have had a blazing row and the woman clutches a handful of dresses from the wardrobe, stuffs them into a suitcase she’s thrown on the bed and storms off out of the house.

I just can’t see it happening, myself.

In our house, for instance, Our Gert wo...

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The cycling is pleasant from Wakey to Cas

It’s mostly on tarmac or gravel or grass

No doubt you’ll surmise that the biking will be

Rural and quiet and hence traffic-free


It’s known as the greenway by those here who know

Although there is huggins of signage to show.

By the side of the Calder your journey starts there

Then by the canal to join up with the Aire


But s...

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There really was a chip shop known as Sweaty Betty's on the corner of Hallgarth and Church Street when I was a student there in the 70's.  She'll either be 130 years old now or she'll have gone to that Great Codfather in the sky.


Sweaty Woman With the greasy top

Sweaty Woman At the old chip shop

Sweaty Woman

I watched your perspiration drip

Into the fat that fries the chips.


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The prospect of being "no-platformed" has persuaded me to downtone the authenticity of the racist language typical of this Jim Crow era I would otherwise have used in this.


From the day he was the Champ he had a target on his back -

The price he paid for whupping Tommy Burns;

They tried to find The Great White Hope to end the reign of Jack.


He dumped him on the canvas like he...

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I’m talking about personal experiences I’ve witnessed and to which I was complicit, with some of them being relatively trifling deceptions and others not so much!  And I have quite a rich vein to mine on this, having been a management consultant in more than 50 companies over a 20 year period. 

At Sxxx, for example.  This was a contract bakery which made bread and cakes for most of the major s...

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A re-post from four years ago when she and Harry Redknapp were on "I'm a Celebrity...".  My ardour for her has not waned.


I’ve got the hots for Hegerty

I think that she is Ace

Cos if I’d run her round the bed

I think I’d win The Chase.


I’ve little peccadillos

They’re naughty, I confess

To feel the crop upon my bum

Of Anne, The Governess


Old ‘Arry’s ‘e’s a ...

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Ten wheels on my wagon but it’s not rolling along

It’s full of fuel but life’s so cruel

This delivery was for BP

They’re not singing a happy song.


Ten wheels on my wagon; it’s parked up back at the plant

Well, what a surprise now prices rise

Of gasoline, as you’ve all seen

You’re not singing a happy song.


Ten wheels on my wagon but it’s not rolling along

You si...

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As I am on hols at the moment and only have the phone for company, I am unable to post anything new on the incomparable Jimmy Greaves.  This is a link to an old piece I wrote seven years ago.

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I read recently on the BBC News website that the parents of several girls of the same name had complained that their little darlings were being victimised because people were pretending to give them instructions.  Clearly, in their minds, a matter for urgent lobbying.

But I really don’t get it.  Just how fragile must you be to require protection from other kids saying, “Alexa, do this” (or “do ...

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Fellow Baby Boomers like myself will no doubt recall him.  He appeared on Opportunity Knocks during the 1960’s.

OK was a talent show – a forerunner of BGT and The X Factor and all those other similar programmes predicated on low-cost TV.  It was hosted by Hughie Green whose only talent seemed to be to pull a face every now and then.  But it’s reassuring this tradition of talentless presenters w...

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An inferior homage and update on Woody Guthrie's "Deportees - Plane Wreck at Los Gatos".  Indeed, I slipped up in the recording and inadvertantly said "Deportees" in one of the choruses.


The cops count them in on the beaches of Dover

Those who have risked life and limb on our seas;

They flee from their homelands, from death and from torture

To seek better lives as escaped refugees...

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Is it a hardy annual of our times? Something that in other ages was just thought of as an ingredient of a life to be lived, like Happiness or Pain or Death?  No doubt my grandad experienced what we would call “stress” but, there again, the Germans were trying to shoot his bollocks off – not as traumatic, I grant you, as many of the challenges of today’s modern life, such as KFC running out of chic...

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A re-posted homage to the masterful Benny Hill.  I have merely tried to develop his original.


The crocus and the hostas raise your mother’s memory

I recall the vile old crow cos she looked like an ‘oss to me

The cowslips bring back memories where they’re planted in the grass

The daft bat fell there; I said “That fat cow’s slipped on her arse”

We’d hide behind the cedar when I’d...

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In time as I’m laid to my terminal rest

I pray that there’s courage and peace in my breast;

I pray the Lord grants me, if these be his plans,

The hearts of mine enemies gripped in my hands.

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A much needed Dylan Thomas/DIY/Shakespeare fusion poem and celebrating a little mishap which befell me at my daughter's house.


I should go gentle into that stud wall

For fear of piercing cable or a pipe

Else certes much skunk shite may me befall.


A wiser man might prod with a bradawl

At DIY, though, I am dud arsewipe

If only I’d drilled gentle through that wall.



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I’d waited alone in the bar for my date

The time we’d arranged was a quarter past eight

But now it was nine and I hoped she’s just late

As embarrassed I sat on my own

But you’re never alone with your phone.


A warm summer’s day and it’s turned half past three

I’m thinking it’s time for my afternoon tea

Our Gert’s still in Primark and so it’s just me

Amid the Darbys and ...

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He was a friend of mine

He was a friend of mine

Carried me home when I fell behind their lines

He was a friend of mine


I met his family

Shared their meal and sipped their tea

I carried their photo in my wallet round with me

I met his family


He was a friend of mine

Sometimes we shared a skin of wine

He drove me to the airport where I left him behind

He was...

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It used to worry me a fair bit when my kids were younger that they might put themselves in harm’s way when they’d had a few pops and, believe me, I know from first-hand experience  that it might be in their genes.  I too had been stupid in drink when I was younger to the point of being reckless.

Take these few examples, spawned from those days I spent taxpayer’s money in the form of my grant on...

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A re-post from 2019 when the Mighty Spurs beat Man City 4-4 (away goals) in the Quarter Final of the Champions League and prompted by today's 1-0 win over them. And this is what David Bowie meant to say.


The time was running out I’m feeling low

We’re 4-2 down cos of Aguerro

Then it turns round with Llorente’s goal;

But will the goal be disallowed?

A deathly hush falls upon the ...

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Even seasoned campaigners like Yours Truly get caught out from time to time.


I’d set off at 8 for the bus into Cas

(These days it costs nowt with my Pensioner’s Pass)

And when the bus stops the driver’s a lass

Who says in a tone brusque and surly

“Your pass is no good; you’re a twerlie”.


I wasn’t quite sure as to what she’s just said

But the bus pulled away and I scr...

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Forget those nonsense conspiracy theories about microchips in your vaccine, 5G masts, Hillary Clinton and the devil-worshipping paedophile ring; even David Icke as the Grand Lizard. The real conspiracy is headed by ES.


Ubiquitous, as in a crowd, invisible to sight,

Relentless rolling through the day, anonymous by night

Corporately liveried in red and green and white

Just who can s...

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They made the news some little while ago.  Les Gilets Jaunes or Yellow Jackets as it translates.

They emerged in 2018, protesting about something or other.  But you can’t take French street protests too seriously when they happen every other day.  It might have been over pension reform or air traffic control or lorry drivers or the price of frogs’ legs – it’s all pretty incomprehensible to anyo...

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I thought that Auden made a creditable putt at this but nevertheless it needed improving!


Where is the Night Mail which once crossed the border

Which brought us our cheques and our postal orders

With bundles of letters for disembarcation

For sorting at depots next door to the station

An essential amenity served by the train

But post’s now transported by truck or by plane


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An oldie but a goldie.


They say we’re young but I’m a man

And ewe, I know is mutton dressed as lamb.

The other sheep say it’s wrong when

You shag me as well as other men.


Babe, I got ewe Babe.

I got ewe Babe.


Those happy nights we spent alone

While next door your sheepdog gnawed his bone.

I’d take a shower, you’d swim the dip,

I’d paint your hooves, I’d...

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Some little while ago I read Bill Bryson’s “One Summer – America 1927”, in which he writes about various events of that year – the Lindbergh Crossing, Babe Ruth’s season and the release of The Jazz Singer among other things.  The genius of the man is to make “unputdownable” something about which I had no prior interest.  It inspired me to have a go myself and, with reason, I chose 1952.

It was ...

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A poem I wrote while I was Verger at Selby Abbey


And prior to this each wedding guest

Arrives bedecked in Sunday best

The groom and ushers like cock birds

Winking, whispering knowing words

At length appears this Wednesday’s queen

Alighting from her limousine

Then with her dress the bridesmaids fussed

Last minute details to adjust

Her father proudly standing by


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The current gourmand’s feast of football at the European Championships reminds me of an incident 55 years ago, almost to the day.

They say there are some events in world history by which you can remember exactly where you were and what you were doing at the time.  This was one of those and in that respect is probably shared by every man of my age.

As a 14-year old boy I was suffering a two w...

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Worldwide fans will have noted the venture in my last post, “World of Sport”, into the comforting realm of nostalgia.  As I am a bit loathe to hand back the blanket I submit this offering on “tuffees”.

When I was a nipper the weekend’s evenings were an orgy of sugar and telly.  On Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights me and our Linda would accompany my dad to the beer-off to help relieve his pock...

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Some interference on the audio.


While I was surfing that cinematic piece of mindless enthralment that is YouTube, I came across some clips of the wonderfully nostalgic World of Sport – Dickie Davis, Eamonn Andrews, Fred Dinenage an’ all.

Several “sports” featured such as darts and ten pin bowling but it was the wrestling which was the jewel in the crown, and whole prison cell doors in m...

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If he'd have tried a bit harder this is the masterpiece Cat Stevens could have come up with rather than that piece of pap about not being time to make a change.


As you approach twenty-one

Get out there and start to have fun

But before you start kissing

It’s time you should listen

To a father’s advice to his son.


When choosing a woman, of course,

Be wary of some of th...

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Yes,  it’s gonna be a backbench Matt Hancock

His ending has come down to this

A catalogue of criticism and failure

Sealed with a kiss.


Boris Johnson said he’s just “fucking hopeless”

And looked for a way to dismiss

Then Doormat Hancock said “I’ll do it for you,

And seal it with a kiss”.


He lied about all the care homes

He lied about PPE

He stuffed his pocket...

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Vitval Orfjall Vebjorn Ejler

Some years ago when I was a pin-striped highwayman, I stayed in a hotel just outside Birmingham; Oldbury, it might have been.

 If you can picture 4 or 5 terraced houses knocked through to make one big dwelling you have an idea of the external structure of the hotel.  To capitalise on this internally the management had used the several sets of stairs and a myriad ...

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It's that time again.


A professor of medicine from Chile

Is conducting research you'd think silly

His study comprises

Comparing the sizes

(I can see that you've guessed) of men's willies.


It seems the good Doctor's detected

Amongst the sample selected

That phalluses fall

Into “normal” or “small”

(That's under 2 inch when erected).


But a problem has h...

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As reluctant as I am to give credence to any story which appears in the Daily Mail, I could not ignore one which popped up on my iPad.

it seems that august and revered body, Stonewall, not content with having got itself in a bit of a dog-knot with LGBTQ....  transgender issues (don’t get me started!) has excelled itself in advice it has given to organisations to enable them to improve their rat...

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We’ve lived in it for 35 years.  We bought it new so “Ol’ House” is a bit of a stretch.  But we’re moving soon.  “Downsizing” they call it, although the concept seems to have eluded Our Gert who has gone for another 4-bedroomed detached which will end up costing us more than we’re getting for ours.  I, on the other hand, was looking for something that would do me till they carried me out in a box.


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I’ve played in most positions so that being quick and lean

I started off at fullback where I wore the shirt “15”.

I joined the line in their attacks, my kick was like a mule’s,

I tackled like a rhino (sometimes within the rules!)


A surfeit of jam puddings, though, at dinner time would mean

The coaches said that I’d become the fattest back they’d seen;

And fellow team mates o...

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An imminent house move means I shall have to leave my sheds behind.  Our Gert has threatened me that the new abode is to be shed-less. Little does she realise that a shed is the secret to a happy marriage.


There’s summat that a husband like me dreads

That they ought to warn a bloke of when he weds;

That’s the sound of Our Gert’s call

And her ominous footfall;

That’s why the Gre...

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Unlike ourselves they’ll not grow old

Now empty shells where once they sold

Their stuff in every High Street town

Their names respected and of renown;

For these victims of this viral year

Some raise a glass, some shed a tear;

Department stores know how this feels

Ask Debenhams, John Lewis, Beales

Oasis, Warehouse, Thorntons closed

And Evans for your fatties’ clothes


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The "eagle"-eyed among you may spot that this is a re-post from when I was a young man in my prime with functioning body parts.


On a cool Torquay evening three kids in the car

One sick just preceding, most of it on Ma;

We’d travelled down from Barnsley, argued all the way

My head was pounding from the constant shouting;

Just glad to end that day.

A sign by the highway was a ...

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Some years ago, while I was working on a contract away from home, my shoes gave up on me.  I was desperate to get another pair to go to work in the next day so choice was a bit limited.  I found a pair in a charity shop which seemed to do the job.  Some of the clothes in these shops are from house clearances after a bereavement.  And I could tell that these shoes were from a dead man.  What's more...

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In the early 1990’s I was tasked by British Coal with organising the recruitment for the imminently opening North Selby Mine.

We preferred experienced transferees from closing mines, either locally or from further afield, like South Wales; but we also took on “Green Labour”.

I recall one occasion when I received a bunch of application forms which included two from Russia.  Bear in mind that ...

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I've just given my 50th donation today.  I was disappointed not to be trumpeted in.


I’ve seen many movies that starred Vincent Price

Or Karloff or Christopher Lee

I’ve watched at the cinema or on the box

Where I’ve peeped from behind the settee.

I saw Captain Quint get clean bit in half

By a fish we just knew as Jaws

The Exorcist too made me sweat at what next

They’d f...

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Isn’t that the Freerider Kensington she’s riding?

Huh huh

With Captain’s seat and pneumatic tyres?

Huh huh

By the way, where’d ya buy it?

I saw it stood in EdenCare

It had pizzaz, it had the flair

I thought “That’s mine.  I’m Leader of the Pack”.


My knees were always letting me down (down down down)

I struggled hard to walk around town;

I couldn’t tackle modest h...

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I’ve planted spuds; I’ve planted peas;

I’ve scrabbled round on hands and knees;

I’ve sprayed against a plague of bugs

But seen them eaten up by slugs;

The seeds had cost me seven quid

Which from the wife I kept well hid;

I’ve had to chuck them in the bin

(At Tesco’s they’re ten pence a tin!)


In light of this my bets I’ve hedged

And gave up cultivating veg;

I sent...

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I'd never heard the saying until we visited some years ago.


The chanting in the cloister

The pealing of the bell,

As sure as God’s in Gloucester

So all with Gloucester’s well.


It’s said that God in Heaven

Benignly chose this place

This city by the Severn

To domicile his grace.


So many towers skywards tilt

As to the clouds they’ve clawed

So many seats...

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Several of the formative experiences of my earlier years took place on Friday afternoons in the Admiral Duncan, Hyson Green, Nottingham.  The place would be crowded with blokes awaiting the arrival and subsequent deshabille of the day’s stripper.

A particular favourite of mine and many of the others was a woman in her late 20’s I’d guess, whose name has faded into the mists of my youth but whos...

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I'm reading Hunter Davies's "The Co-op's Got Bananas" at the moment - recollections of his childhood.  It prompted this memory of mine.


When I was a kid I collected cards.  They weren’t cigarette cards by then, with artists impressions of clean-living, square-jawed footballers, all looking like Roy-of-the Rovers. 

No, by my childhood you found them mainly in packet tea.  I collected ful...

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