Blog

Poem

Temporary novel writing block gives rise to poetry. Keep the oils warm and flowing. As you must.   Zombies The zombies are here Shuffling, waddling, limping Replicating In sallow anywhere roam On numb streets and churchyard stones Swingless parks and shopless malls Men in tie-belted trench coats And bobble hats Dripline butt Old Holborns Dry fused to ash lips Worn once women cocooned in wardrobes Plastic bag comforts rictus fisted Sports shoe unlaced Just moving Circulating The haunts of compass rest To scavenge on A path ill chosen A...

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Come on young ‘uns

A fine riposte to the frosts of May and all her sycophant weeds - but come on Youth of UK you can do better! Only 54% of you voted last time. Make it 70% next time and the Ice Queen and her minions are melted and gone. And when your time comes, for ours is passing swiftly, then fight for proportional representation too. Equality and representation must rule our political life, not factional, selfish elites.

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Viz world

The ego maniacal buffoon and all round general arse wipe, Boris, is appointed Foreign Secretary and now represents us to the rest of the world. I've woken up in a Viz cartoon.

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Oh my country.

I got divorced from my country today. It has been coming for some time. The signs were there, along the way, half registered in my mind, but never thought terminal. It was Diana that started it all of course. Always another woman. All that uncontrolled public crying and wailing and the reverential laying  and hurling of plastic flowers for the death of a plastic princess. The country went mad. Collective insanity ruled. For a simpering, self-obsessed girl plucked randomly from some minor aristo crèche. I stood and watched the stiff upper lips collapse, the Brit reserve melting to a soppy,...

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The heart

Is a most remarkable thing.  For thirty years mine has crammed room for a precious four and fit to burst with them. Then two grandchildren arrive at its door and it finds more room to admit them.  My heart's house has many rooms.

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