The Nimroth Chronicles. Book 1: The Crystal Dagger

There’s something evil stirring in Nimroth
says Pilus to his loyal servant Goph
the dark forces of the Magus Allun
are gathering until they start to threaten
the most Holy Tillott of Shamshotten
who rules all Nimroth in case you’ve forgotten

Meanwhile, in a boujie nail bar in Sidmouth
Ellie Fammish has had enough
of a mother and father
who really would rather
she didn’t keep on about fantasy epics
and focused on her NVQ in cosmetics

Goph travels through the Portal of Schmerd
in the shape of an annoyingly cute little bird
flies through Ellie’s window at night
and uses his bright orange beak to type
a synopsis of the whole Nimroth situation
which Ellie reads with strange recognition

Goph invites her to travel back
to help them ward off Allun’s attack
with the Crystal Dagger of Segrodith
the only thing you can kill him with
(I don’t know why it has to be Ellie
you’ll just have to accept it, unfortunately)

There’s a series of battles; it all goes wrong
Ellie’s imprisoned on the Island of Gabbalong
where she charms a couple of no-good ogres
by accessorising their look with earrings and chokers
so they bust out of prison and fight their way South
to the Castle of Oots where the Tillot’s holding out

Pilus gives her the Crystal dagger
Ellie turns out to be quite the jabber
just as the Allun overruns the parapets
and there’s fighting up and down the steps
till face to face she meets the Magus
and cuts him in half after several pages

The kingdom is won! Ellie is feted!
The Saviour of Nimroth Medal’s created
and pinned to her denim dungarees
with the ogres and whatnot down on their knees
then Goph hops onto her royal shoulder
and when she gets back she’s one minute older

I hope you’re doing lots of studying up there
shouts Ellie’s mum from the bottom of the stairs
Yes mum! says Ellie then laughs with Goph
who twerks and jerks and other cute stuff
as Ellie hides the dagger away in her drawer
and opens Cosmetics! to Chapter 4

world war whatever

one thing I’m very unlikely to see:
how the world’ll look after world war III
but I’m sure the place will settle down
the survivors impatiently waiting in their compounds
all the presidents and generals
their security professionals
slowly putting on their shades
as their emaciated slaves
finally roll back the thick steel gates

what a world they’ll stroll into
I can’t begin to
imagine it
how they think they’ll refashion it
in a way that’ll satisfy their old ambitions
the inequalities and divisions
prohibitions, coalitions, suspicions
the only hope would be to say
hey!
okay
we fucked it up
so let’s get to work and clear this shit up
but first, no more generals
no more presidents and safe-deposit emeralds
no more cock shaped rockets
no more handshakes with guns in pockets
no more authoritarian regimes
no more kings and queens
no more politics of hate
no more real estate
no more countries with the prefix great
no more heads of state
from now on we all just work together
everything shared in equal measure

yeah right
close but not quite

they’ll probably look around
at the twisted buildings, the blackened ground
and think: now am I truly lord of the world
quick – get my beautiful flags unfurled
it’s a shame my enemies aren’t here to see
how I stand in this wasteland gloriously

the man on the porch

Locked out of the holiday house
sitting on the porch for hours
just me and a scattering of scandalised ants
fretting round the tiles and plants
(what’s he gonna do?
I’ve no idea do you?)
while swallows dive from smoky heights
to thread the sultry air with advice
have you tried flying under the eaves
thanks but I don’t need wings just keys
to end my lonely vigil please

Locked out of the holiday house
yawning, watching the cars go past
just, me, the vines and a lemon tree
whose ripening fruits hang patiently
for a hand to reach out and give them a squeeze
or a hand to reach out with a spare set of keys
(she’s sending a mate;
I volunteered to wait)
while scooters like wasps buzz along the street
and wasps like scooters park along my feet
everything adrift in the rapturously blue and keyless heat

show me the basilisk

what are they
mountains?
is that Spain down there?
we could be anywhere
literally
I love it
and I love you too babe
mind my bag
you’re squashing it

here comes the trolley

I’ll have two mojitos
a gin and slimline
a dead man’s finger
with club soda
and a bottle of water
thank you so much

it’s our honeymoon
aw thank you
start as you mean to go on
if you can’t relax on your honeymoon
when can you?
I’m a steady drunk though
so don’t worry
thank you so much
thanks babe
you’re the best

don’t you think he’s the best?
an absolute charmer

he’s a catch babe
we like him

watch out
you’re spitting
yes you did
shut up

what – are you a child?
why do I get to keep the wipes?

now look what I’ve gone and done
all in my bag
christ

I had so many special times
with Rosie
yes we’re taking time out
for a couple of months
but when you think
all those moments we shared
all the Harry Potters
we grew up together
me, Rosie and the Harry Potters

look at me sitting on my headphones
I like these ones
those other ones
make my ears bleed

oh hey babe
you’re back
absolutely
I’ll have another mojito
another gin and tonic
a beer
and a vodka spritz
thank you so much
thanks babe
I promise we’ll behave
promises, promises

my favourite’s Fantastic Beasts
did you see that?
Fantastic Beasts
I love everything about that movie
Johnny Depp was shit
Jack Sparrow with a wand
I’m glad he went
I love Jude Law
he makes a dreamy Dumbledore
weren’t you glad
Johnny Depp went?
him and his eye

Manny makes me laugh
he’s like
mum,mum, where’s the basilisk?
I want the basilisk
when’s the basilisk coming on
I said to him
manny – you’ll see the basilisk
at the end
but that’s literally all he wants
the basilisk
where’s the basilisk, mum?
show me the basilisk
he’s obsessed with the fucking basilisk
scuse me
sorry
the flipping basilisk

just time for one more, babe
I’ll have another coupla mojitos
they’re super delicio
and a beer, darling
no worries
I think I’ve got time
but if not
I can always put one in my bag
a carry off
the drink not me
what did you think I meant
I’m pretty steady
I won’t cause a scene
thanks babe
you’re one in a million
I bet you’ll stop me getting
back on, though,
woncha
hey?

(he’s so gorgeous
isn’t he gorgeous babe
such a warm personality)

yeah – the basilisk
where’s the basilisk, mum
show me the basilisk

he’d watch a whole film
just on the fucking basilisk

we’re going down
are we going down?
we’re going down
woo-hoo

déjà vu

And here it is! My time machine!
the electricity bill’s obscene
and the only other limit
is it takes you back about a minute
but that’s a kink
I’ll straighten out in time, I think
so…what more can I say
but thanks so much for turning out today
I’m sorry the paintwork isn’t neater
now – if you’d all step back a metre…

Thanks for accepting the invitation
to attend my little demonstration
which is, in short
nothing less than the future of transport
I’m absolutely certain
when I draw back the curtain
you’ll be stunned and amazed
(no photos, I’m afraid)

And here it is! My time machine!
the electricity bill’s obscene
and the only other limit
wait – what?

big disaster happening whenever movie

Professor Tim Berkley
denim-wearing, flinty-eyed, fried-side of thirty
maverick climatologist from Albuquerque
lives in a trailer, drinks Wild Turkey
morose, brilliant, occasionally twerky
gets threatening letters from his wife’s attorney
falls down a well and winds up on a gurney

where he’s visited by….

Dr Helen McReary
hates small talk, loves horses, occasionally teary
avant garde, nobel prize for chemistry (nearly)
who loves Tim’s brilliant work sincerely
suddenly looks weary
says she’s got a theory
which galvanises Tim severely

so they…

race to warn President J R Gooming
who strides down corridors barking & fuming
as they warn him worldwide disaster’s looming
his generals finding the whole thing amusing
which Tim finds confusing
says it’s not just their worthless asses they’ll be losing
if they stick to the goddamn path they’re choosing

but they…

throw them both out
which is no doubt
the one move humanity could do without
just as the climate wheels about
hits the White House with a waterspout
and we zoom in as Gooming gives a shout
torpedoed by a truck-sized rainbow trout

and so begins…

a tumultuous, migrainous CGI fest
sinkholes, tsunamis, volcanoes and the rest
no end time fantasy unexpressed
people screaming as they’re gruesomely pressed
by falling office blocks east and west
but Tim and Helen do their best
to help the survivors clear up the mess

and then

we end…

with a sunset
the calmest, clearest, most beautiful yet
Helen and Tim in a yurt in Tibet
eating moss with a plain vinaigrette
with a comedy cross-eyed goat as a pet
Helen says Humanity’s paid its debt
Shall we start again? Tim says You bet!

The End

so how are YOU

I’m the song in an urchin’s spiky heart
I’m four pints of lager and a rhubarb tart
I’m stinking, sinking, old school olfactory
lost as an octopus in a rubber glove factory
I’m twisted, busted, seized up & rusted
I’m a lookalike Rosamund Pike not to be trusted
I spent fifteen years in solitary alignment
playing the angles under advisement
I’m the toad on call at a hotline for witches
I’m the holographic traffic that twitches and glitches
I’m a sexy Godzilla with a stamping fetish
sucking my tail and looking coquettish
I’m Theseus saying Jesus I’m totally fine
just gimme those scissors and a ball of twine
I walked a mile in someone else’s shoes
and gave them one star TripAdvisor reviews
I’m a crafty crofter, a wolf in wolf’s clothing
scarfing lamb kofta, full of self-loathing
I’m two steps forwards one step down
but I’m up for a drink next time you’re around

the moon & me

I thought I’d write a poem about the moon
because I’m not immune
to songs about love and loss and all that
and if you wanted to hang your authorial hat
on a metaphor that’s fat
with romantic resonance
having all kindsa elements
of timelessness and relevance
you’d have to admit
the moon is it
although it HAS been written about quite a bit

‘wandering companionless amongst the stars’
said Shelley
(who unfortunately
wasn’t quite as good with boats
as he was at writing beautiful quotes)

‘white as a knuckle and terribly upset’
said Plath

(well – that’s me for an early bath)

the paw supremacy

Stanley
should live in Langley
Virginia
in the vicinity of
the CIA HQ
because between me and you
he’s the kinda dog who
they should have on their payroll
because he can play roles
for instance
if you’re insistent
he move from the sofa this instant
he’ll pretend he’s a kind of unwieldy cushion
that no amount of pushing
will budge
then he’ll stare at you hard as a high court judge
till you shrug
and give up
and sit down grumpily on the rug
to watch TV
which is obviously where HE should be
manipulative to the nth degree
but great spy potential if you ask me