It dawned on me when the downloads of my last music-poem EP ‘Get’ went past 100 downloads, that if that many people were in the same room it would be, for most poets, a huge audience, and if it’s worth doing, it’s worth sharing.  I do most of my work in an attic, so it’s probably a good idea that I come down and start doing some gigs, as it’s getting cold up there.

 

To this end, in a move which will have Donald Trump quaking in his boots, I have declared war on isolationism by making 2017 the Year-of-getting-it-out-there.  Most people who’ve met me already think I am.

 

So, in the new year there will be a new book of poems, entitled Maungy and a CD of poems to music, Maungy Get and some dates with the Northern Beat Poets Association as well as my usual, point the car at somewhere and stop after an hour approach to reaching new audiences.

 

I always take a suitcase of stuff to sell when I perform, which sells quite well, but I feel embarrassed when people stump up their hard earned cash and I have to say , “Oh, that poem’s not in that book, it’s on that CD,” and so on.

 

So, both the book and the CD will be a compendium of the stuff I do live.  Think of the convenience.  As befits a man who lives next to a shop.

 

Also embarrassing but nice are the increasing number of plaudits from people I’m not sleeping with.  Steve Pottinger featured Jimmy’s poem Be careful what you wish for, which is a response to the murder of MP Jo Cox on his own facebook page, describing it as “angry, clever and articulate,” whilst The Yorker magazine described me as “the best stuff around.” 

 

My wife still thinks I’m “a twat.”

 

Nevertheless, I’m looking to get out there and looking for gigs.  Hey promoters!  I’m polite, punctual and cheap!  

 

If you want to know more, check out  

 

https://soundcloud.com/jimmy-andrex

In the meantime, check out the new track Myiasis, inspired by Teresa May's mouth, which is disturbingly like a maggot's.  Myiaisis is when maggots burrow into an organism and live off it while it's still alive.  A metaphor for our times, eh?  Or is it?

The rest is noise.