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Elvis McGonagall

Updated: Wed, 17 Apr 2013 02:30 pm

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Elvis McGonagall Stand-up poet, armchair revolutionary and recumbent rocker, Elvis McGonagall is the sole resident of The Graceland Caravan Park somewhere in the middle of nowhere where he scribbles political satire and celebrity bashing comic verse whilst drinking Scotch, listening to Johnny Cash and shouting at his telly. Boredom, desperation and the fear of putting on a bright orange apron and working in B&Q drove this bitter and twisted entertainer into the twilight world of performance poetry and in June 2006 Elvis won the World Slam championship at the Poetry International festival in Rotterdam after previously winning the 2006 Spokefest UK Slam Championship at the Theatre Royal, Stratford East in London and the 2004 UK Allcomers’ Slam championship at the Cheltenham Literary Festival. He represented the UK in the Hammer & Tongue 4 Nations’ Slam of 2005 and Europe in the 4 Continents’ Slam Tour of the UK in 2006. He has appeared at comedy, literary and music festivals here, there and everywhere including Edinburgh, Cheltenham, Glastonbury Leicester, Oxford, Swindon, Reading and Rotterdam and at venues all over the UK from The Bonnie Prince Charlie Karaoke ‘n Cocktail Lounge in Cowdenbeath to The Colony Club Room in Soho. Elvis currently appears as one of the poets occasionally in residence on BBC Radio 4’s “Saturday Live” and has also featured on BBC Radio 7’s “Poetry Stand Up” and Resonance 104.4 FM. He is the compere of the notorious Blue Suede Sporran Club, once had a poem published in “The Chap” and has released “One Man And His Doggerel” on CD. “….if poetry is the new rock ‘n roll then Elvis….is Elvis” (Steve Larkin, Hammer & Tongue) “….someone you’ve never heard of, whose every stanza sounds as if it was written by Les Dawson on the back of a fag packet” (The New Statesman) Contact Elvis via his website:


A Bed At The Ritz Empire’s half-mast flag unfurls Requiems tweet from ex-Spice Girls Iron handbag, twin-set and pearls Found dead in a bed at The Ritz Cruel Britannia’s buccaneer Brass-balled female anti-Greer Cause of Ben bloody Elton’s career Found dead in a bed at The Ritz Sybil-out-of-Fawlty-Towers-hair Steel clad belief in laissez-faire The midwife that gave birth to Blair Now dead in a bed at The Ritz Lovelorn acolytes sadly weep Cue phony Tony so skin-deep “Hey – she was the people’s Meryl Streep” Dead in a bed at The Ritz Cold pre-packaged grocer’s daughter Leading England’s lambs to slaughter Ordained divine at Mammon’s altar Dead in a bed at The Ritz Boudicca of entente cordiale The Tory gentleman’s femme fatale Mandela’s foe and Pinochet’s pal Dead in a bed at The Ritz Fed the rich their daily focaccia Spawned men of Jeffrey Archer’s stature Besmirched the honest trade of thatcher Dead in a bed at The Ritz Here lies a shattered miner’s lamp Factories choked down in black damp Belgrano ghosts still slowly stamp Round and round a bed at The Ritz You can pray Charon rows her to hell “Tramp the dirt down”, sound a futile knell But all her dreams are alive and well And living it up at The Ritz Money shouts – just listen to the noise Material Girls and City Boys Ruthless Little Lord Fauntleroys Even now they’re putting on The Ritz Public service sold for private wealth Community and kindness killed by stealth Compassion, care and national health Dying in a sick-bed far from The Ritz Put inequality to the sword Give each one of us our just reward And then one day we all might afford To pay for a bed at The Ritz by elvis mcgonagall, april 2013 This Land's Not Your Land: A Republican Party Protest Song By A Global Village Idiot Called Backwoodsy Guthrie This land's not your land, this land is our land From Columbus, Ohio to the Florida swampland From the corporate jungle to the redneck ranchland This land was made by Fox TV It's bible bashin' Disneyland It's yippee-ai eye for an eye It's faith, family and flag God, guns and apple pie This land belongs to cowboys In Stetsons, spurs 'n' suits We're the Wall Street, Wal-Mart-Waltons John-Boy, Jim-Bob, Jack-Boots In the Burger Kingdom of the Stupid Stupid is as Stupid does Forrest Gump is President Yee-haw! He's one of us! We're Starbuckin' bronco Marlboro' men We're big chief swingin' dicks It's John Wayne's world in Washington We're the Capitol Hillbilly hicks We don't read books, we do action All-American wham bam ma'am! Schwarzenegger Uber Alles! Gimme five! Jean Claude Van Damme! Rambo is not a poet The French is arty-farty funks We hate cheese surrender chimpanzees We hate perverts, pansies, punks 'Cos them flip-flop pinko girly boys Don't walk The American Way The Dixie Chicks are Communists SpongeBob SquarePants is gay Hollywood is Satan's whorehouse It's the Sodom 'n' Gomorrah Motel Route 666 to Tinseltown Is the road to burnin' hell We ride the hosanna highway Saddle up our SUV We got a two-ton tank 'n' a ten-gallon hat O-I-L spells victory We're Team USA cheerleaders Go! Go! Go! The Pentagon! Shakin' 9/11 pompoms 24/7 Armageddon? Bring it on! We're the evangelical vandals Shit-kick, kick, kickin' down Mecca's door Rainin' baptist bombs on Babylon Behold their Shock 'n' Awe! We're pumpin'out Mohammed's diesel Fillin' up Christ's limousine Hallelujah Halliburton! Glory! Glory! Gasoline! We got no time for risin' oceans, Ozone layers or polar bears Kyoto - is that a Japanese car? It's gettin' hot in here - who cares? We export Nike swoosh democracy Handmade with Asian sweat And golden arches of McFreedom Built on African debt That Chuck Darwin was a monkey boy His science fiction's over The Almighty made us, that's a fact Way to go Jehovah! The American Dream is born again It's a big name brand New Deal It's a holy roller Coca-Cola Prozac Happy Meal It's Britney Spears 'n' Bud Lite beers It's Super-Size 'n' Super Bowl It's Dunkin' Donuts on your mind It's botox for your soul We don't spare no cash for trailer trash You gotta help yourself Jose We wipe our ass with dollar-bills Da-doo Enron-ron have a nice day We're the bullet-head neo-conmen We're the mob that franchise fear Cat Stevens is an evil terrorist Folk with beards ain't welcome here We zip 'em up like chocolate oranges Shackle, cage, interrogate We protect Wild West values Strip, abuse, humiliate We don't murder unborn babies We're pro-life NRA We Kentucky fry deathrow deadbeats We're electric chairmen KKK We're the Saxon sons of Uncle Sam Our blood's red, white 'n' blue There ain't no black in the Stars 'n' Stripes It don't fly for Apache or Sioux We have loosed the fateful lightning Of our terrible swift sword We're the Pentecostal patriots Kick-butt and praise The Lord! This land's not your land, this land is our land From the buffalo Badlands to the cotton-pickin' Dixieland From the Dust Bowl wasteland to the Presley Graceland This land is Jesusland! Amen! © Elvis McGonagall

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

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George Stanworth

Sun 12th May 2013 09:36

Love your poetry. Love the imagery - 'Sybil-out-of-Fawlty-Towers-hair'. Love the social commentary. Love the cutting remarks.

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David Franks

Fri 31st Jul 2009 17:57

Enjoyed the metre, the rhyme, the humour.

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Tomás Ó Cárthaigh

Sun 13th Apr 2008 01:56

I dont know how I came across your work before, but I did, and on finding you a second time, your work is all the more refreshing!!!

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carol falaki

Sun 17th Feb 2008 08:17

I love this and really really wish I could have written it, its got the lot.

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clarissa mckone

Mon 26th Nov 2007 03:23

very good and very funny!

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