I’ve got a bad feeling about this

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse
ride around aimlessly for a bit
tie their horses to rubbish skip
buy four large portions of fish and chips
struggle to eat them without any lips

well this is shit / says PLAGUE
nonplussed, kinda vague
not exactly End of Days
is it?
not our usual kinda visit

don’t be obtuse, Bruce / stay boney and loose
says CONQUEST / the meanest of the four, no contest
tossing a handful of chips down his craw
watching them tumble straight out on the floor

this is serious / there’s nothing mysterious 
about a pandemic
you of all people should know that, goddamit

PLAGUE / has nothing more to say
just waves hi / to a jogger jogging by
who takes one look at his fleshless mien
and drops down dead there and thien

oops you did it again / says FAMINE
tugging his hood around his skull
that’s me full
or as full as you can be when you’re dead
I can’t remember being this well fed

WAR / bored / balls / his empty chip wrapper
chucks it at a window cleaner
but it bounces harmlessly off his bucket
fuck it
that’s not like me
we’d better make it best of three

FAMINE shakes his head / cracks his dusty knuckles and says
I thought it’d be obvious when the world was to end
like an interview with God on CNN

well – I haven’t heard anything particular
not a squeak of someone speaking in the old vernacular
have you?

true / yawns CONQUEST / stretching his bony arms right and left
it’s one unholy mess / and I have to confess
I’m feeling a bit disillusioned / with the general confusion
why can’t we just get it over and done with
rain instant death on the people we have fun with 

PLAGUE sneezes / into the sleeve / of his cloak
CONQUEST? You crazy old croak!
you’re so witless you’re woke
you think everyone drops dead just cos you spoke?

well – d’uh! / what d’you think the Four Horsemen are for?
with names like FAMINE and CONQUEST and WAR?
it’s pathetic / too chronic
I need something supersonic / a bit more bubonic

I’m sympathetic, CONQUEST / honest / but it’s frightening
these days you need more than a horse and some lightning
but hey – don’t panic
it’s gonna get manic
we’re scratching around now but soon we’ll have plenty
when Donald Trump wins in 2020

NHS Heroes: Achilles the Podiatrist

Achilles’ Mum was a worried nymph / obsessed with infection and the quality of lymph / convinced / if her son wasn’t rinsed / in the Stygian waters of the Styx / he’d be vulnerable to spears and typhoid and bricks / so ignoring his squeals / she dunked him by the heels / which would’ve been okay / if she’d thought to swap hands halfway / so the immunisation failed / and Achilles got nailed / with an arrow to the heel / which he hadn’t concealed / with chainmail socks and boots / but left to the air / in a fancy pair / of golden sandals / which showed off his ankles / but really? / for someone so severely / immuno-ammo-compromised? / the footwear was tragically ill-advised

NHS Heroes: Prometheus Unzipped

Turns out Prometheus / had firestarting previous / incendiary and grievous / so the General Mythical Council / responding to the groundswell / of God-Consultant outrage / at the fiery hand Dr P had played / passed down their punishment, ad hoc / he should be chained every day to a whacking great rock / and have his liver ripped out at eagle o’clock / the first recorded implementation / of non-consensual organ donation

jesus boris

but Boris said: Suffer little children, and forbid them not to come unto me
(so long as they don’t want any more shit for free
especially nutritionally
and stare at me hungrily
and twitter on endlessly
about food poverty
they’re just being greedy
I mean honestly
find another St Francis of Assisi
you think it’s easy
being this bright and breezy?
with all you paupers gawping and making me queasy?)

for of such is the kingdom of Tory heaven
(now DO fuck off, I’ve got luncheon at eleven)

And he laid his hands on them, and departed thence
(after tossing some lighter ones over the fence
and evicting some others for non-payment of rents
and pleading for easier public events
away from the mob and the malcontents
like proving his regal munificence
by awarding contracts like Christmas presents
to a bunch of lovers and old school friends
glad-handing oligarchs and presidents)

here endeth the lessening

dante – speak!

Okay – it’s time / get me Brosnan on the line / tell him the whole goddamn volcano’s about to blow / and he’s the sexy scientist in the know / with a fabulous balance of intellect and machismo / a Phi Beta Kappa Geo Joe / a denim jean / sex and seismology machine / with biteable ears and a brain between / his smile’ll make your knees knock / your heart stop / your panties drop / and when he bites his lips / and cutely quips / you’ll blow your chips / and fall to the floor in a fabulous fumbling squall of hand slips / sorry… land slips…

I digress /  this goddamn poem’s a mess / get me a professor / the kind of snake-hipped, well-equipped love confessor / an expert on rocks and an expert kisser / checking the readout while checking the mirror / a colossal fossil fact giver / who’ll make your flint glint and your shale shiver / the kind of / deep and sexy mine mind / you only meet from time to time / someone preppily predisposed / to make you loosen all your clothes  / who has the cutest wrinkling of the nose / whenever he talks about pyroclastic flows…

Damn you, Brosnan!


I had this nightmare

deep in the infernal workshops of Eton / comes the sound of heavy metals beaten / something awful occurring / sawing & drilling & whirring / sparks / arc flashes of acetylene / illuminating the hellish scene / till silence falls at last / and the quivering news reporters gasp / when bolts get thrown / the main doors blown / and boys rush out deploying their phones / as crashing into the taped-off zone / a gigantic robot PM appears / wild white hair and saucery ears / eyes clanking wide / hands flexing restlessly at its side / steam from its neck and other spots / babbling inanities non-stop

and after a moment’s hesitation / for huffing and puffing and basic orientation / the dreadful creation / begins its quest of devastation / rampaging round the nation / kicking down houses, hospitals, schools / using the Houses of Parliament as a football / picking up the Town Hall / shaking the screaming councillors out / stamping on them as they run about / laughing at their comical posing / unzipping a monstrous copper pipe and hosing / them over / then completing the general takeover / by tossing into the smoke-filled air / a handful of nanobots / Jenricks, Goves and Hancocks / who weave and dive with high-pitched yells / bewildering the poor population as well / till there’s no-one left with sense enough to tell / what needs to be done to break the spell

luckily, I wake up

NHS Heroes: Jason and the Lab Reports

Jason / attracts the attention / of one of the hospital pathology lab technicians / by jabbing her with the point of his spear / Over here! / he snaps / process these before I collapse / and saying thus he deposits / a bunch of specimens from his toga pockets / CRP and FBC / from the bronze giant Thalos on Crete / U’s and E’s / please / for King Aetees / LFT, TFT and Bone Profile / for the hideous and horribly motile / skeleton army / I fought and diced like calamari / and… and culture & sensitivity for the swab / I took from the gaping, golden gob / of the ram’s skull yet appending / the Golden Fleece at my journey’s ending /… but just at that moment the door blows wide / and a helmeted Hercules thunders inside / his leather trousered legs spread wide / transfusion panniers swinging at his side / Zeus and Hera! The day I’ve had! / Take these offerings before I go mad!

NHS Heroes: The District Medusa

The District Medusa’s / confused / but used to it / curses as she struggles to tie on a mask / past the rattlers, vipers and asps / ignoring the patient’s frantic objections / that he really doesn’t want an injection / flailing and wailing with his eyes squeezed shut / but / when the DM cracks her dusty knuckles / he opens his eyes so she smiles and chuckles / advances the needle but the needle buckles / okay stony / you great big phony / she roars / tossing the broken needle on the floor / grabbing her bags and kicking through the door / I’ve got a busy day and I just can’t plan it / when every patient turns to granite

public announcement

now – I know many of you are wondering / how a PM so blatantly bent and blundering / could still be up here thundering / about public duty / civil responsibility / new possibility / gesturing energetically / his hair photogenically / awry / flexing his fingers into the sky / like Lear having a good old crazy-cry / there, on the… on Haywards Heath / flailing and wailing, furious beyond belief / that the job of Prime Minister / could’ve been so damned difficult to administer / with nothing like the levels of Churchillian adulation / he wanked about in the Gladstone bar at graduation

no, my people – that’s all in the past / consigned to the social history bin at last / and thus the reason for this televisual broadcast / this rich and nationally nutritious repast / whose viewing figures will never be surpassed / (you see how well I work it? / I’ll be even better on the after dinner circuit) / now is the time for a serious reset / like having the soup instead of the baguette

so at the risk of losing my public speaking permit / and to paraphrase the immortal words of that Most Muppetous of Muppets, Kermit / To introduce our policy – That’s what I’m here to do – It really makes me happy – To introduce to you… / The Three Tier System!

(To simplify the thing so it’s easy to remember / we’ve linked it to the class of which you are a member)


Tier Three – is the NHS junkies / state school flunkies / wrench wielding monkeys / and anyone else without the moolah / to live anywhere south of Peterboorah

Tier Two – is the doubting Derby & Joaners / the middle-class, pain in the arse Red Remoaners / the lefty lawyers and artsy groaners / the Guardian reading eco-homers / the food bank donors / and sundry other disposable personas

Tier One – is the Oxbridge Eliters / the gentlemen’s club and country retreaters / the tax and grouse beaters / the market makers / slush fund rakers / contract breakers / working class haters / and anyone who’s ever worked at the Telegraph or Spectator

I do hope that clears up any confusion
and in conclusion

always, always remember…

Rule Britannia! Britannia, rule the Waves!
Britons ever ever ever shall be slaves!

I thank you

CSI lullaby

Porky Pig knows what he did / how he spun the chamber and flipped his lid / hit the throttle, the bottle, the skids / went off grid / lay low in Barcelona, Bilbao, Madrid / had a kid / all his careful work undid / heaven forbid

The Big Bad Wolf’s done playing around / waives the 5th in Chinatown / huffs and puffs on the smokes the pigs pass round / sure – yeah – it’s true, I blew the house down / on them preternatural porcine clowns / buried their bacon beneath the ground

Humpty Dumpty gets sick of the fence / the painted smiles, the thin pretence / the heightened suspense / so he rolls up in court & self-represents / blows his eggy vents / makes no friends, no case, no sense / gets dragged away by the civil defence / it’s eggstremely ugly and intense

Georgie Porgie bends the rules / servicing high-end swimming pools / extending his pole and other tools / for the benefit of all the five-star fools / who post online he’s slow but cool / hopeless & hapless, hung like a mule

Little Miss Muffet finds peace at last / smiling at the nurses through the plexiglas / for once in her life she feels first class / off the tuffet, off the grass / she’d been way out of character, man – totally miscast / her curds absurd and her whey too fast / but at least now whatever comes to pass / them mother fuckin’ spiders can kiss her ass