rap stanley

one two / one two
uh, uh

yeah

c’mon all you people an’ listen to me
while I tell you the news ‘bout dog stanley
his tail super-fail, his ears all tangly
long n’gangly
as big dogs go not exactly
manly
y’understan’ me?

that’s rap stanley
yeah

stanley by name, stanley by nature
stanley at the back gate lookin’ straight at ya
gassy n’flatulent
postures extravagant
an actual
contractual
who-gives-a-shit hound
king o’not much but lounging around
or lying flat out like a rug on the ground
making noises that sound
grammatically incompatible
with yer average hound
enough dog love to make the world go round

are ya gettin’ it clearly?
do you see him sincerely?

rap stanley
yeah

it’s stanley with an S T jes’ like a saint
but trust me when I tell ya a saint he ‘ain’t
his breath bad enough to bubble up paint
or make the rudest, roughest street vet faint

that’s stanley not stan lee
a man who apparently
came up with the whole goddamn marvel family
personal favourite? bony stark
yeah? he built this suit that flies and barks
and rescues squirrels over the park

yeah / uh / yeah

he eats at speed
he’s a leader on the lead
leg-lifting, super-grifting guaranteed
the gap-tooth guru of a canine cult
where you pay in bags of treats to consult
on all kindsa mystical matters occult
and give yer undying love as a result

man that stan can whine and bluff
all sneezy with dust and chesty with huffs
the kinda mutt the judges at crufts
recommend you end and maybe have stuffed
tie up his raggy ol’ hair in tufts
put his paws on wheels
so you can drag him round fields
or wherever you feel
dog shows, promos
who knows
a stanley stand with cute dog logos
five pound a pop for personal photos

‘cos he’s a bona fide
every day’s a friday
jump up on the sofa and kiss your blues goodbye day
a genuine, goddamn wolverine hero
stanley 10, all the others zero
sweeter than sweet n’low, madder than nero
trickier than the riddler
sings like mariah, maybe bette midler
so if you think you hate dogs woncha reconsider
‘cos as rescues go this mutt’s a winner

that’s rap stanley
yeah
yeah
uh

allow it

the braverman sea shanty

(with apologies to Nathan Evans)

There once was a young, sharp-toothed KC
The ship she sailed was The Lizzy T
with a cheer and a wave for the ERG
Oh blow, bully MPs, blow – HO!

Soon may the Braverman come
To bring us laws draconian
One day when the Tories are done
We’ll take our country back – HO!

She acted tough, her role begun
a step to the right of Attila the Hun
The E C H R soon undone
and trans rights hit the deck – HO!

Lines were crossed & rules were broke
Rwanda was the place for folk
who fled from war in a leaky boat
they got the old heave ho – HO!

Soon may the Braverman come
To bring us laws draconian
One day when the Tories are done
We’ll take our country back – HO!

Until the next election comes
we’ll have to bear Suella’s drums
her war on woke for The Englishmun
see that lawyer go – HO!

As far as I’ve heard the fight’s still on
the sails on fire and the rudder gone
but Braverman sings her dreadful song
and beats the country down – HO!

Soon may the Braverman come
To bring us laws draconian
One day when the Tories are done
We’ll take our country back – HO!

narcissagram

he looks pretty great striding from a lake
boxing by a mirror in a field of wheat
pointing to an artfully decorated cake
dancing with a salsa band down in the street

he looks so moody playing the flute
staring distractedly into a fire
running down a road with a dog in pursuit
spooning courgettes from a new air fryer

he’s read a lot about ASMR
so he whispers proper nouns up to the mic
lover fighter healer father
the sound of a fat moth pinging off a light

and millions pine for him, millions swoon
he knows because he counts their hearts
every time he goes to his room
a second after his laptop starts

creation myth

In the Beginning
was The Bird
but Her feathers were thinning
and The Bird felt cursed
It couldn’t be worse
She was the only Bird in the Universe

So She swallowed a star
and laid an egg
and hatched The Jaguar
and grabbed His leg
and tossed Him out the nest
(She expected a chick and wasn’t impressed)

The Jaguar roared
and vomited humans
which I’m reliably assured
was the REAL evolution
and goes some way to explain the confusion
but I’ll let you reach your own conclusion

the message

The Christmas message? Of course we watched
us on the lemonade, Dad on the scotch
pumped with turkey and trifle and chocs
from a ravaged Cadbury’s selection box
Morecambe & Wise, The Great Escape
the whole disreputable family draped
like a tideline of excess across the furniture
alternately toasting and roasting Her
as she smiled and carefully delivered her script
words serenely and queenily clipped
in a room that wouldn’t have lasted five minutes
with a sprawling family like our one in it
cheap cracker crowns all torn and chucked
on the carpet with the wrappings and boxes and stuff

And of course, time passes
in one unholy mess of Christmasses
the heat of the living room long since dissipated
and who would’ve anticipated
the things you come to miss amongst the wreckage
Dad in his cups, a Christmas message

status update XXVI

Cruise at the food bank, mission impossible
can’t figure out who he thinks is responsible
worked his whole life and couldn’t work faster
ended up fighting over a bag of pasta

I’m an oil baron with a pocket politician / jeering at the dreary predictions / while stashing profits and stalling transition / crux and caviar and cigars all round / as I scorch the air and torch the ground / till the smoky day inevitably comes / when the air is filled with scary drums / and by the pricking of my thumbs / something furious this way comes / and I blanch and shriek and slam the doors / of the country bunker with ingots underfloor / I mean – sure / I made billions but there’s nowhere to spend it / and a storm is breaking and it’s too late to mend it / so I take out my antique revolver and end it

You broke out the ouija board
scratched the itch
the seance went without a hitch
a blast of cold air and a frozen witch

What’s that you say, Scarlett? / something about the UK market? / tomorrow’s another day? / well o-kay / but c’mon / things have moved on / even you can see enough’s enough / we’re tired of the same old trickle down stuff / the constant beating and retreating / the constant bullshit business meetings / CEOs like melanoma / rooting deep and taking over / but watch out / they won’t go easy no doubt / he who laughs last might well laugh longest / but a police response is always strongest

I’m the sneeze in the shopping mall
the greenie in the lamp
life-sized Lego tanks rolling off the ramp
skies of blue, seas of green
in our Trident submarine

Mary Poppins says come on! spit spot / when I clap my hands, show me what you’ve got / in your carpet bag or eastpak or whatnot / don’t be shy and don’t be clever / no is final but yes is forever / that’s it! let’s see a little more can-do spirit / with a smile and a song I’m sure we can fix it / there’s just enough sugar on the spoon to go round / to help the fluoxetine go down

zzztanley

Stanley
is certainly
workmanly
when it comes
to slumbering
naps without numbering
all through the day
twenty or thirty at least I’d say
bonelessly stretched out on the floor in the way
or sprawled
in the hall
apparently comfortable on nothing at all
or semi-recumbent
snoozily redundant
on throws and cushions superabundant
busy
with the Zs
as floppy as you please
but then who needs balance
when inertia’s one of your primary talents?
then rising like he’s doped
and rolling through the house slack as a rope
to drop like a mop on the kitchen floor
four paws flat against the door
to be dreamily re-born
with a sneeze and a yawn
activity forsworn
snoring
adoringly
his head inevitably lower than his arse
(I know – don’t ask
I’m no famous sleep professor
maybe it makes his dreams flow better)

the grim reader

he appeared to me
on Sunday
THE GRIM READER!
just as I was trying to complete a
particularly ghastly thread
on Twitter as I lay in bed
shit I said
he shook his head
why? expecting someone else instead?
I shrugged
as I coyly tugged
the duvet to my chest
why – no, I guess…

he was wearing a cloak
wildly bespoke
the kinda thing you’d wear for a joke
just a big black sheet
lotsa bulging pockets and pleats
stuffed with photos, notes, receipts
sharp one liners, smart critiques
cartoons, gifs
gothic posters, manga strips
a million 3 minute video clips
of snakes v pigeons
an animated Charles Dickens
made of sinister vegetables
a spider in spectacles
a pulsing line of hatching cocoons
an old man eating prunes
for the first time
cooking with edamame
surviving a tsunami
a politician doorstepped
a mouse getting the floor swept
with a screaming flamingo
seventeen submarines firing in syncro
the explanation of a syndrome
a rusty ol’ Citroen
a flock of drones
in V formation flying home
and so on
and on
row upon row
of audiovisual overload

THE GRIM READER’S face
was an interesting case
of terminal distraction
the kinda face you might wanna caption:
LOL SAME
hashtag notinmyname
his eyes moving incessantly
worryingly independently
quite reptilian
like a chameleon
shifty & machiavellian
and his skin was sallow
the kinda fellow
you might wanna give vit D
and take away on holiday
to the mountains or the sea
so he could live a few weeks healthily

it’s time he said
but I’ve only just gone to bed
no he said
shaking his head
(he did that a lot;
the only expression of frustration he’d got)
IT’S TIME!
accompanied by the kinda mime
you REALLY don’t wanna see
at anytime, let alone half past three
in the morning
obvs a warning
I mean – GRIM by name, GRIM by nature
a superi-serious kinda player
no doubt a visit from the HAPPY reader
woulda been a whole other prospect
so anyway what’s next
I said
bravely sitting up in bed

he raised a bony digit
I put down my phone & started to fidget

COME WITH ME NOW! he boomed
and straightaway uploaded me outta the room
and that’s where I’m Tweeting from right this minute
but that’s what you get for doom scrolling, innit