wear rubber gloves watching murder she wrote
take a balloon dog out for a float
hit the clubs with a ventriloquist’s dummy
go see tutankhamen dressed as a mummy
climb mount everest in slippers and duvet
present the queen with a barbed wire bouquet
work a week as a labourer for lego
play jerusalem allegretto
march on parliament with a zimmer frame army
make a new hospital outta origami
line the mall with cactus plants
win a staring contest with charles dance
change your star sign by deed poll to gemini
make the o2 into a giant lemon pie
that’s it from me – go make your own story
(but whatever you do, don’t vote tory)
poems
evolution of an extinction
general election now
The Owl and the Refugee




spooked

seven bins sunak speaks to the nation
so after careful consideration
I present to the nation
those policies no longer for implementation:
a tax on condiments, especially ketchup
the legal obligation to go to a costume party and dress up
like an astronaut, or alternatively, Fred Astaire
a tax on old bears
especially those in such a state of poor repair
their freakish and lopsided expressions frankly scare
a tax on stairs
or any stair-related products
a tax on terrible twins (aka Castor & Pollux)
a tax on molluscs
funding to fix the nation’s gut biome
funding to help kids build homes
for rabbits, hamsters or gerbils
extra taxation on vexatious and unreliastic commercials
particularly washing powder and cars
a tax on Mars bars
a tax on large jars
impossible to open without spilling
a tax on cheese grilling
or any late-night, snack-related activity
restrictions on the use of radioactivity
for home lighting
any obligation to watch WWF fighting
and groan
any obligation to pick up a banana and pretend it is a phone
no to pant laws
specifying how many old pairs you can keep in your drawers
without acknowledging the many and egregious holes in the gussets
and I’m sorry but we refuse any calls to discuss this
further
no tax on Werther’s
Originals
no tax on words with more than three syllables
no tax on invisibles
(such as ghosts)
and finally it’s a NO to a tax on toast
as you can see we are a serious government
utilising powers of great insight and judgement
guiding this country through choppy waters
(honestly, spads, it’s like lambs to the slaughter)
when and where I left it
I built a time machine
left it on a bench
in 1917
bottom of a trench
the next worked fine
sweetly constructed
lost in 79
when Vesuvius erupted
improved version three
I left in the brig
of an interplanetary
mining ship
four’s long gone
wrapped in a liner
when Genghis Khan
invaded China
it’s always the same
my invention’s hot
it’s just a shame
my memory’s not
the app
this traffic app’s crap
whoever’s the developer needs a slap
you may as well give up and use a map
a dusty one from the middle ages
that runs to fifty crusty pages
marked in places here be dragons
take a right for plague and flagons
following the sun south by southwest
the roads are for horses so do your best
I must’ve been crazy
but I used one called Waze
and I don’t want to trouble you
but if you flip the W
you get Maze
which pretty much covers the tricks it plays
I mean come on
all I wanted was the M1
that’s not a hard one
the traffic spine of the country
that furred up artery
of anaemic carpuscles on endless car journeys
road rage, end stage, exhaust pipe particulates
driving it the equivalent
of de-threading a prawn
with Leeds the tail and the head good ol’ Londawn
basically the country’s alimentary tract
full of shit and that’s a fact
I asked Maze to take me there
Maze said what … THE M1…? you SURE?
I said yeah
I was prepared
antideps: check
bottle o’water: yep
I’d signed the waiver
accepting all blame for my crazy behaviour
ready to join at junction 10
vanish and never be seen again
happy daze
so anywaze
off I went
next thing I knew I was lost in Ghent
apparently
a port city
in north west Belgium
I said hmm
Maze?
you’re crazy
you couldn’t be further off the track
turn us around and take me back
five minutes later I’m at the Colosseum, Rome
80 CE the date that’s shown
the crowd are furious
but not a little curious
to see a guy in a Skoda Yeti
tooting his horn at a gladiator with a machete
I screamed Maze? this is incredible!
your orientation’s TERRIBLE
take me back to where we started
so suddenly it’s 360 million years ago
and I’m flippering my way out of a swamp, so you know
I’m texting you now to say I’ll be late
and if you could give the dog his tea that’d be great
the promotion
dad appeared again last night
(I know, what are the chances, right?
all those years so buttoned up;
now he’s dead he won’t shut up)
this time was different
this time he was magnificent
in a tailored suit and fedora hat
a silver-topped cane and oxford spats
whaaaaat? I said
sitting up in bed
Alright, son? said dad
politely tipping the brim of his hat
grinning broadly from here to here
or those hollows where he once had ears
son? he said, looking around
then hanging his hat with my dressing gown
this is the last time I’ll be able to visit
though I hope you know I’m with you in spirit
the heavenly council have met and voted
and hey presto I’ve been promoted
that’s good – I think – I said, confused
unsure about the terms he used
promoted? really? from what to what?
hopefully not to anywhere hot…
nothing like that, he said; don’t worry
you shouldn’t think of death so terminally
it’s more a progression of altered states
and the clothes fit better and you don’t pay rates
all you gotta do is keep your nose clean
(which I have to admit is a tricky routine)
and eventually you get your reward
and a clothing allowance from the lord
so what are your duties? I hope it’s okay
you look a bit gangstery today
personal preference; I like to be sharp
though I wouldn’t go quite as far as a harp
my job description’s pretty whack
I don’t do much and they pay me a stack
all I do is witness god’s wonders
basically there to make up numbers
all things considered it’s easy work
and pretty good going for a printer’s clerk
what wonders? I said, the planet’s a mess
well let’s just say it’s a work in progress
things have always been in a state
but I didn’t come here for religious debate
it’s just that after a period of reflection
I regret not showing you more affection
it wasn’t that I didn’t feel it
it’s just I was brought up to conceal it
so – that’s it – that’s all I wanted you to know
and he reached for his hat and turned to go
and stood forlornly on the rug
so I jumped out of bed and gave him a hug
(which felt a bit awkward, but .. you know
as I gazed up into his empty sockets
and he took his phalanges out of his pockets
and returned the squeeze, and we stayed there a while
till he vanished in characteristic style
and I said to the air I knew that of course
now rest in peace you funny old corpse










