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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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LOVE ME TANDOOR - Elvis Night at the Raj Poot

The title is pure plagiarism from Bill Bryson's "The Road to Little Dribbling" which everyone should read rather than my dribblings.


Love me tandoor, sag aloo

Take me to your heart;

Chingri chaat, prawn vindaloo

Popadums to start;

Love me tandoor faithfully

Two peshwari  naan

Seekh kebab and prawn puri

Sizzler from the pan.


Love me tandoor, love me nice


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Bill Brown’s body lies a-turning in his grave

For him, Mackay and Blanchflower it’s not Mammon that they’d crave

And other icons of the past all knew how to behave

But the Spurs have sold their soul.


We have a proud tradition when the season ends in “1”

We’ve won the Cup, we’ve won the League but now this is all gone

He’s branded with his infamy our Harry Kane and Son

As ...

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Last Monday when lockdown eased we were first out of the blocks to whisk our caravan off to Bridlington.  Being there was nice but driving there was even more fun.


You folks are always putting me down (down, down)

You say you think I drive like a clown;

It’s fair to say you’re no fan

When you’re stuck behind my caravan.

Tough shit! For now, I’m Leader of the Pack.


I put...

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Matt Hancock own shares with his sister

In Topwood; he says “It’s no sin”;

Some 15% he was gifted

My God how the money rolls in.

Now Topwood supplies the Health Service

And where does procurement begin?

The Minister is Door Matt Hancock

My God how the money rolls in.

Rolls in, rolls in

My God how the money rolls in.


Now Cameron lobbies for Greensill

Despite wh...

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Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a zealous republican; but nor am I an ardent monarchist either, for that matter.  I sit firmly in the camp of “Don’t give a shit”.  It doesn’t bother me whom we have as Head of State to press the flesh of dictators of former colonies.

So it was with deep apathy that I learned of the death of Prince Philip.  He struck me as an offensive, upper class twit; but that was...

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Written on the occasion of our Ruby Wedding Anniversary.  Cowperthwaite was the vicar.  That we ran out of food at the reception was largely down to him, the greedy git.


We have a photo stowed away

That’s taken on our wedding day;

In truth it does not flatter us –

My double chin, your mountainous

Bosoms occupying all

The shot in their supported sprawl.


But when I ma...

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A re-post; but who's counting?


There’s a lady out there

And she can’t climb the stairs

At her bedtime which is

Half past seven;

She was lured was Aunt Hannah

By the junkmail from Stannah

Into buying their Stairlift

To Heaven.


But she found it so slow

When she needed to go -

Half an hour on the Stairlift

To Heaven;

So from ground to first floor


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The tune is a mish-mash of "Star Trekking" and "While We were Marching through Georgia".  But the real debt is to Pam Ayres's "Littering" and to the dirty bastards who've dumped crap down our local country roads.


Fly tipping – we’re out for a nice ride

Fly tipping – the van is full inside

We’d have to pay at dumpit sites so blight the countryside

We’re your friendly fly tippers.


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I confess to being a bit envious of those who self-identify on the issue of gender; that despite their meat and two veg they say they are a woman.  Or vice versa.  And I say “envious” because although  I’m not such a person myself (contentedly masculine, you understand, although I have been known to help the boys out when they were busy) it nevertheless strikes me that if it’s biologically permiss...

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For Doreen, the Mother of Fleetwood,

The dynasty's come to an end

Of strong eucalyptus and menthol;

She's sucked her last Fisherman's Friend.

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I’ve often heard cynics deride the efforts of environmental campaigners like Greenpeace or XR for their personal hypocrisy; or for ridiculing a little teenage girl by, predominantly, white middle aged men, for drawing their attention to the issue.  “How did they travel to their protest, then?”.  “Who made their clothes?”.  “Didn’t she fly to the States?”.  Criticisms which miss the point completel...

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(The first verse, of course, is not mine.  It will be well known to rugby players returning home from away matches on the coach.  Simple pleasures!)


When I was just a wee wee tot

I sat on my wee wee pot

But wee wee there I could not

Till I lay in my wee wee cot.

Wee wee

Wee wee

Wee wee wee wee wee  wee.


And now that I’m an OAP

My bladder’s once more haunting me


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I’ve sung their praise and I’ll sing it again

How Rob and myself would spend hours there then

In days we could gather and argue the toss

But now they’re all closing and this is our loss.


So long, s’been good to know yuh

Now, though, we say “Cheerio” to

Thorntons, it’s time to forego yuh

These haunts of indulgence are all shutting down

And I’ll lounge in your cafes no m...

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A recollection of a halcyon day in 2017 and referencing the iconic and talismanic Frank Worthington who died today.  A cowboy both on and off the pitch.


We praised the God of Yorkshire that October afternoon

It’s not a day we’ll be forgetting sometime very soon;

The scoreboard told the story – it had ended 2 to 1

We sang songs to their glory – the Terriers had won!

They blamed ...

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Spare me these doldrums of malaise;

Though loss and shame I’ve known before

Last Thursday was the worst of days.

I simply ask each man that plays

To wear his badge as if to war;

Spare me these doldrums of malaise.

And if we lose, lose in a blaze

With passion not a spineless bore;

Last Thursday was the worst of days.

It’s hard to find some kind of praise

When this stic...

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I think I've heard Billy Connolly say that you have to respect Mother Nature knowing what she's doing.  But it's beyond the wit of even David Attenborough to comprehend what threats to your ageing body she is anticipating which makes her cause an explosion of body hair in unlikely places.


I’ll be your Long Haired Lover from Haddlesey

With thick foliage on each eye brow

A growth that ...

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Summertime and the lockdown is easing

Hope’s emerging, expectations are high;

Through vaccinations the upper hand we’re seizing

But Covid restrictions will all still apply.


Summertime and the outlook is pleasing,

Folks are thinking “We’ve got this Covid thing beat”;

But use your kokum, and act with sense and with reason

We’ve got an advantage but it’s not yet in full retr...

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The world and its uncle knows the number of days there are in March.  “Thirty one” some wag says.

But I’m talking celebratory and memorial days like International Women’s Day, St David’s Day, St Patrick’s Day, World Book Day, World Wildlife Day, Red Nose Day, World Poetry Day, Tolkien Day and Piano Day; not to mention the focus there’s been on LGBTQIANTYSILIOGOGOGOCH issues. Any more and they’d...

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N’didi says she’d like to meet me

“Hasty very soon”

She says she’ll come to Ingland

From her home in Cameroon.


She says she has such lovely eyes

And lovely, smile time teeth

She says that she’s a princest

As the dotta of the chief.


It seems that men of my age

Are something of a catch

To 18 year old virgins –

I think we’d make a match.


She re...

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From out the closet I now voice

The truth about my drug of choice -

The heroin contained within

The kitchen cupboard’s biscuit tin.


For found there is the stuff of dreams

Jammy Dodgers, Custard Creams;

And pinching one will never do

I need to see the packet through,

Then hiding crumbs is common sense

For fear Our Gert finds evidence.


From breakfast-time I’ll...

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My hardy perennial in support of the sisterhood.  I'm not convinced I "ground" the poem properly.  Suggestions welcome.


Raise your voices; sisters speak!

International Women’s Week.

Banish weakness.  Let’s be strong.

Time to right what has been wrong.

Linking arms in sisterhood,

Pledged to Justice, pledged to Good.

Standing proud and standing tall,

The worth of one the...

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I’ve never been the sort of bloke that needs to end up as the hero in one of my own stories.  Rather, I quite enjoy being “done up like a kipper” as they say.

Take these two examples.

Some years ago I had the pretentious urge to buy a fob watch for myself.  I saw one on Bawtry Market and after examining it thoughtfully and with an entirely unwarranted professional mien, told the stallholder ...

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I walked this battle trail a year or two ago and it's a bloody inhospitable place even without a blizzard and someone trying to stove your head in.  Said to be the bloodiest battle ever on British soil.


In 1400 and 61

I believe that was the year

There happened a bit of a fallout

With Yorkshire and Lancashire.


For brothers like this to come to such blows

It needed the ca...

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get up





morrisons (mon)

walk/bike ride

tipping point

the chase




news at ten

match of the day (sat & sun)




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