“Funny.” – Hovis Presley, describing Rich’s comedy to Badly Drawn Boy’s sister (long story). “Rich Davenport is a brilliant comedian. Genuinely bringing something different to the table and is always a big hit with audiences”. - Lee Martin, Director, Gag Reflex Comedy Agency “Rich Davenport is a terrific performer whose enthusiasm and innate likability shine through. He also has a pleasingly madcap eye on the world and a gift for taking apparently innocuous words - like poultice - and making them extremely funny.” – Toby Hadoke, Comedian, host with the most at XS Malarkey, Manchester Rich Davenport is a comedy poet, stand-up comedian and musician from exotic Bolton, in the UK. Inspired by Spike Milligan, Ogden Nash, Billy Connolly, John Cooper-Clarke, Robin Williams, Benjamin Zephanaiah, Victoria Wood, Lenny Henry, and by his friend and fellow Boltonian, the late Hovis Presley, Rich has gigged all over the UK, spreading mirth and making loud noises. No, he’s never heard of him either. Rich was described in one review as a “no-nonsense Northerner,” which is ridiculous, because nonsense is his business, and business is good. Rich was first encouraged to compile a book of his poems of extreme gormlessness by Hovis Presley. After accidentally winning a couple of poetry slams, other encouraging individuals said the same thing. And now, finally, Rich's first book, GORMLESS is available now from Chinbeard books at the link below with fabulous illustrations from the marvellous Minty B. A percentage from every book will be donated to the ME Association https://www.chinbeardbooks.com/apps/webstore/products/show/8155538 Winner - Best Local Comedy, Morecambe Fringe Festival 2020
The Ballad of BLOODY NORA Nasty notions nag within the noggin of old nit nurse Nora After fifty years of scalp surveillance, she could stand no more Her sanity was slowly stolen by insomnia (her husband was a snorer) Criminally insane would be the best description for her For decades, the kids’ nit discomfort really got her goat, But now the goat’s been sacrificed - she’s flipped and slit its throat She doesn’t blame the children, gives discreet shampoo, no shame, It’s crystal clear in Nora’s eyes - The parents are to blame With meat cleaver in hand, she now begins her killing spree “You filthy gits have all got nits as far as I can see!” See her bulging egg-eyed glare, she’s deadly as a rabid stoat Nora’s nit cure is simple – cuts your hair off at the throat Her rampage knows no limits as she tears across the nation Septuagenarian serial killer seeks to spread decapitation From town to town she travels, in her mobile home, a tourer She’s still at large, pray you don’t face the blade of Bloody Nora! Young Elvis In the early days of his career, young Elvis Was given the nickname “Elvis the Pelvis” Because of how he moved his hips on stage, not out of meanness I bet he was relieved his parents didn’t name him “Enos” Pantalones De Amor (Trousers of Love) Imagine Antonio Banderas reading this to you In my wardrobe they swing From a hanger above Pantalones de Amor The Trousers of Love They are made of black velvet With diamonds down the seam I must wear them with earplugs Cos the ladies all scream My erogenous Trousers Fill them with delight They are flared at the bottom 'Round the buttocks they're tight So tight are my Trousers That when ladies greet me They ask "Are those castanets in your pocket, Or are you just pleased to meet me?" I am chased down the street In these lady arousers But their love's not for me It is just for the Trousers Hypnotised and bewitched By the diamonds that gleam They claw at them wildly And pull at the seams I can't run fast enough So I have to be smarter I'm afraid if they catch me They'll beat my pinata! With the power of Trousers Comes responsibility And the ladies 'round here... They run faster than me! So they hang now in mothballs I wear them no more Dangerous Love Trousers... Pantalones de Amor Mud-Wrestling Hilda The blood-curdling tale of Mud-Wrestling Hilda Is a mystery sure to confuse and bewilder Detectives still strive to determine who killed her In so gruesome a way, for the whole town had willed her To meet her comeuppance, the foulness that filled her Offended so many, she had even distilled her Speech down to vile oaths, and rude gestures thrilled her, Her gusset worn low, cheeks displayed like a builder For all to behold, caring not that she spilled her Ripe buttocks in plain sight of adults and childer She would stand on one leg and fart "Waltzing Matilda" It was clear that a diet of lard had fulfilled her To the point that it no longer mattered how skilled her Plastic surgeon was, for each time he'd rebuild her She'd burst out of the places he'd nipped, tucked and drilled her But her demise was an accident, if truth be known, not bumped off by some murderous brute Her career as a mud-wrestler led to her end, when a health-conscious audience member brought fruit To consume as a snack at a wrestling match, and Hilda, who was clearly to heavy to catch, Was thrown from the ring, by a vigorous grapple And landed on the rough end of his pineapple The Cold Touch of Fear Before me stand horrors too ghastly to chronicle Am I scared? I've an arse like a cyclops's monocle!
Gormless - Chinbeard Books 2020 https://www.chinbeardbooks.com/apps/webstore/products/show/8155538
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
World Mental Health Day - Weight Of Shadows (10/10/2020)
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