It's Christmas not Winter

Nearly bloody well threw up,

Today in bloody M&S,

Sick of bloody bull-shit,

Bloody “Winter Wishes” dishes!

Jesus Christ, enough already,

This is bloody Britain mate!

We’re celebrating bloody Christmas,

Not “Winter bloody Festival”,

Not “Winter bloody Holiday”,

This ain’t the bloody USA,

It’s bloody-well the UK,

Shove your bloody “Winter” bollocks,

Where the bloo...

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1st Sunday in Advent (V1)

All my own work (being an ex altar-boy an' all that!)

O come, O come, Emmanuelle,

My favourite barmaid pulls it very well,

But I will mourn at home in exile here,

Until free beer tomorrow does appear,

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuelle,

Will pour free beer tomorrow-yeah like hell!

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AdventEmanuellefree beer

Hallo Nederland!

In our Lancashire home, in our Lancashire home,
We speak with a Lanky Twang ever so rare,
We’ve got some wet moorlands exceedingly bare,
If you want a few Mountains, we've got some to spare,
In our Lancashire home.

En Vrolijk Kerstmis!

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Anti-Social-ist Behaviour Dis-Order

The following is my response to Red Button's recent post:

Britain’s been given

An Anti-Social-ist Behaviour Dis-Order,

The Tories flaunt it,

Like a naughty teen.

Britain’s ill, but can’t get treament,

Because of the cuts,

So the cuts on her wrists,

Are growing in number,

I’ve grown acc...

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We’ll drink a drink a drink,

To an empire pink so pink,

The saviours of the human race.

The truth we speak is ever so profound,

We speak the truth in every case.

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Their Favourite Things

Bit of a cockup in original posting -here goes!

Their Favourite Things


Teardops they’re shedding; with lies they’ve been smitten,

“Bright sunlit uplands” still promised for Britons,

Brown paper packages, no attached strings,

Those are a few of their favourite things.


When reality bites, when the truth stings,
When they’re feeling sad,
They’ll simply remember their fa...

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TearsBritonsrealitytrutheconomicsunicornsEssex girlsBrexit

Na Gaotha (The Winds)

Author unknown

An ghaoth aduaidh bíonn sí crua,

Is cuireann sí gruaim ar dhaoine,


An ghaoth aneas bíonn sí tais,

Is cuireann sí rath ar shíolta,


An ghaoth anoir bíonn sí tirim,

Is cuireann sí sioc istoíche,


An ghaoth aniar bíonn sí fial,

Is cuireann sí iasc i líonta.


The north wind is hard,

And it depresses people,

The south wind is damp,


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Na GaothaThe WindsseedsfrostfishAn ghaoth aduaidhAn ghaoth aneasAn ghaoth anoirAn ghaoth aniar


“Remembrance is our duty”, preachers scold.

The duty’s yours, not mine; my conscience? Clear.

I’ve stood on duty, rain, hail, freezing cold,

Protesting first the lies, then deaths, then tears.


Remembrance, once in quiet grief-struck thought,

Derides now, that their warm red blood had run.

The flower of our hope’s debased and mocked,

Out on parade with Strictly Tit and B...

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Remembrancethe Fallendutyconsciencepeace


This poppy was recently made for me as an impromptu gift, by a young lady who had been researching her family tree, and had found that a male relative had served in the RAF in WW2. I will always treasure it.


I wrote the following probably ten years ago.


On Armistice Day, (which, by now, all should know,

Marks the end of World War Number One),

I remembered Them, as I sat...

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Armistice DayWW1WW2WW3Poppy Rocks BallRemembranceYemen

Autumn Leaves Haiku 俳句

Autumn leaves, skipping

Up the old apples and pears

To her wintry rest.

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Counting One to Ten in Irish

The Irish is in Celtic script and the English is in Old English text.






Some of my earliest and abiding memories are of the Irish accents and Irish names of pupils and teachers at school and at church.


Having learned French and Spanish on retirement, a great excuse for backpacking holidays, I gained an interest in language and in how it works.



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Anthony Rowley's Roly Poly

There was a young lady from Woking,

Wooed a fellow with amorous provoking.

But that gammon called Rowley,

Made his Brexit too slowly,

Now that lady from Woking is bloating.

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Sangita Myska, for your courage and compassion, I thank you,

Dog-whistled by client “journalists” in hock to money’s might, they cower

In ignorance and fear, the bigot spitting on what’s good and true.

I wept with you as valiantly you battled, speaking truth to power.




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BigotsClient Journalists

AUDIO of my SAMPLES 1-7 Repeats rectified

The audio file in this post is of SAMPLES 1-7 in my profile-apologies for repeats cockup.


This  below, was my first and only attempt (so far) at a Sestina, from about ten years ago?

I think it reflects:

1. the trepidation I felt at the thought of one of my 3 months-long walking trips and

2. the effort expended in the journey of trying to write this bloody thing!



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I’ve tried writin powums in spanish,

Mi spelin means they’re a bit moorish,

Am back to mi roots,

The rools don’t get twoots,

Now I’m writin mi ditties in liquorish.

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E’s getten a Masters in Bullshiteree,

Peer-reviewed by pillocks who agree,

Uz t' moon’s med o’ cheese,

Uz black’s white, ‘ell’ll freeze,

Now scumbags‘r getten off scot free!


Thi honour, Q.C., D.P.P.,

Ar t’ ignorant, or incompetent, thee?

Tha cowardice crass,

Meks o’ justice an arse,

When tha durstn’t define “woman” fer me!


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