Thumping fingers do thy work / make the poem, dish the dirt / heal the pain and ease the hurt / write the rap and be like Kurt / actually not Cobain but Russell / back in the day when he still had muscle / gritting his teeth through his lustrous beard / flame throwing anything acting weird / I’m talking about that film The Thing / because politics isn’t everything / sometimes it’s easier stir frying aliens / than understanding homo sapiens

I’m a sucker for punishment, a fool for caring / underperforming, oversharing / hypersensitive, over-there-ing / A Disney princess suddenly flaring / deep soul baring / lyrically suspect, a teensy bit wearing / yeah – sorry about the way this went / it wasn’t what the producers meant / when they said they wanted a feel-good time / somebody cute who occasionally rhymes / maybe lives in a shack or a castle / gets an unexpected parcel / goes on a quest with a clock and a cat / cute little characters, something like that / chased by a queen like baba yaga / (we’re currently in talks with Lady Gaga) / till in the end she gets the prince / I can tell by your face you’re not convinced

Years ago Thatcher memorably expressed it / Where there’s freedom somebody fence it / where there’s protest move against it / rewrite history like you meant it / non-event & ten percent it / basically where there’s social harmony / scream blue murder and send in the army

I’m ducking n’diving, divvying up / I’m a water boss with a paper cup / family and hungry billionaires to support / spare me some change for the annual report

Hey – time for another quote / lefty lawyers, tofu woke / anonymous blobs and traitorous blokes / till Johnson and the I’ll-Go-Nuts in a dodgy boat / runs aground and screws the vote / Sunak as Hercules (padded suit) / Braverman as Orpheus with a tuneless lute / (unfortunately comes without a mute) / bringing singing into disrepute / making even pacifists shoot / morally bankrupt, the cut in cute / utterly useless / wannabe ruthless / dreaming of tigers but sabre-toothless / crappy, inglorious / long to rain over us / morals from another, malignant universe / Gods give me strength ‘cos the pills aren’t working / I’ll do anything, Zeus – yeah, even twerking

I’m overwrought and out of time / hanging my words on the reading line / letting the sun and the air get to ‘em / maybe one day I’ll go back through ‘em

I’m the Tin Man jazzing up his bolts / with crocodile clips and a thousand volts / staggering out of a junkyard orgy / MDMA and WD40 / meanwhile back in the emerald city / munchkins deal with the nitty gritty / flying monkeys, wicked witches / phoney wizards (sons of bitches) / still they’re used to staying chipper / stovepipe hats & bootleg liquor / happy to sell to the highest bidder / a hatful of straw, an emerald slipper / glad you’re staying, really thrilled / we welcome you to the crack pipe guild

It’s a question of assets, a quota of trust / one minute boom the next minute bust / read the room and screw the optics / you only need cash and antibiotics / I’m sorry to get all messianic / but I hate it when you start to panic / you used to be so damned dynamic / now you’re barely automatic / look at the time – it’s way past caring / take a seat and thanks for sharing

I’ve a sponge for a brain, a zip for a mouth / pupils pointing north and south / earnest, serviced, quite devout / tinker’s tailor, MP’s pout / preaching how to do without / tutting with accusing fingers / why do all these losers linger? / make my fortune, make my day / a back needs scratching – what can I say?

I’m a sexed-up clown in a town of Sundays / shining my shoes and starching my undies / dreaming of tumbles in golden showers / big top crowds and squirting flowers / throbbing red noses / wigs n’ hoses / smacking my lips as the curtain closes

Give us this day our dalai lama / pope-shaped soap, hindu dharma / hide n’sikh, less is mormon / C of E with added sermon / holy wars, anointed airmen / clear to land on runway heaven / St Peter there to wave you straight / to drivers with named harps waiting at the gate / but I’m sorry to burst your holy bubble / religion’s a pill to keep you out of trouble / so bow when the king rides, look the other way / work all week and Sundays pray / it’s the natural order, do your bird / you’re here to work, not stand and be heard / didn’t you know? in the beginning was the word / and I’m sorry to say the word was hard / but when you’re dead you’ll get your reward

I rise to the bait like a shark with the shakes / thrashing and splashing whatever it takes / to swallow the hook, break the boat / fisherman, shark, eukaryote

dad was a doctor, mum was a clerk / I’m tired of thinking, scared of the dark / all I need is a little black cat / a smart wooden ship and a treasure map / compass, cutlass, dreams to guide me / and when I’m done a lie to hide me

balloon dog storms the best in show / owners joyous but whaddya know / when the judges wave him onto the podium / they pin a rosette and the dog explodium

I’m a junkyard jesus on a wonky cross / of broken needles and bottle tops / when suddenly a dodgy local tradesman / roars into view on his harley davidson / leathers say resurrection chapter / round a smiling white-winged velociraptor / he stands there smoking at the foot of the mound / scratching his head and looking around / hey, I call down, why’d ya do this? / he flexes his bicep, tat says Judas

I’m back of an ambulance running south / a needle for my vein, a mask for my mouth / it’s always the same, rhyme over reason / open heart then open season / it’s how shit works, generally speaking / is that my knee or my conscience creaking?

take your pills and learn the four step / waltz outside and clap on your doorstep / money for bosses not money for nurses / save your sermons for the empty churches / poor lil’ nowheres – so bereft! / took a hard right when they shoulda turned left / property good, proper wages theft / shut the hell up, your betters know best

And it’s quiet on set, please – lights, camera, action / casting for words with a modicum of traction / cute sounding fragments of sweet abstraction / but it’s less addition, more subtraction / a jackdaw’s nest of raw distraction

Okay shaky, hit me some news / I’ve got the fear and I’ve got the blues / politicians smiling as they’re interviewed / stats and stories misconstrued / headlines made and facts abused / they like to keep you well confused / so they can score more gold as the planet gets screwed

I’m a Kaiju counsellor strategizing / taking notes on matters arising / godzilla on the couch, catastrophizing

I’m a lazy ghost in a vaping store / watermelon ice across the floor / chuffing and puffing through creaking doors / writing on mirrors, slamming drawers / why is haunting SUCH a chore?

By the way – the store looks neat / but I’ll buy me some shoes when I find me some feet

I’m a spy balloon in a shopping arcade / gathering intel for the easter parade / Spiderman, Trump, celebs in hats / the Duracell Bunny, Biden in spats / and suddenly that’s that / game over / locked and loaded, ready for the changeover / if you’re sure that’s really all you’ve got / I’ll fly back to base and upload the lot

Seize the day, Jim – carpe diem / I donated my knees to the local museum / with carpet burns if you wanna see ‘em / along with all the other exhibits / but hurry – they close in a coupla minutes

Okay, UK, I feel your pain / steady as a tent in a hurricane / where CEOs blow and non-doms reign / and power means never having to explain / the funding streams of your golden domain / where the heads get the hats and fuck the extremeties / they love austerity, hate amenities / they’re used to strife without any remedies / and that’s one hundred percent the truth / (who’d have thought a country could produce / so much corruption under one roof?)

‘tis a consummation devoutly to be wished / now pass the bottle, Bill, let’s get pissed

It’s hand, foot & armageddon / burn the books and pass the weapon / party first and family second / destiny smiles, eternity beckons / we’ve got about a minute I reckon

Asking myself again – what IS this / dumped on the corner like a tree at Christmas / but I suppose that’s how it goes in show business / one minute baubles, the next scared shitless / life’s ridiculous / often ambiguous / an experience gift for a cannula at Dignitas

I’m caught red handed, in cahoots / on OnlyFans as Piss in Boots

I’m queuing at the local high street cleaners / back of a pack of bloody hyenas / I don’t know what they’re laughing at / the service here is not all that

I’m a werewolf in a salon chair / waving my clawsy paws in the air / howling fix this goddam hair / the moon’s nearly full and I’m having a mare / so they do me a perm / which is bouffant and firm / and I look like an influencer, sexy and stern / and I pay them with silver and make them squirm / the swivel chair straddle / my wolf teeth dazzle / then lyco-skedaddle / off to the beach for a doggy paddle

I’m screaming at the live-streamed crash / a plate on my lap of schnitzel and mash / the commentary’s crap! totally trash! / jabbing my fork and making a splash / on my Nazi shorts and oily thatch / my big cleft chin, my toothbrush moustache

I’m the Daily Mail with poisonous tropes / smiling as the hangman shows me the ropes

I’m dining on a sinking ship / paid for dessert so I’m finishing it

I’m facing death with Staff Nurse Moses / snapping his fingers for a hallelujah bolus

I’m captive after the revolution / a witness for the persecution / pleading with the jury for a fair conclusion / but they’re used to all my shameless shit / they laugh and talk and hawk and spit / I can tell from here they’re just not having it / shaking their heads when I ask to acquit / NO! screams the judge as she whacks her hammer / Off to the slammer! / fifteen to life for a feckless manner

A chilly welcome to the land of Mogg / mists and mellow fruitfulness, poisonous fog / where you keep your head down and work like a dog / for off-book, outsourced, zero hours Mcflog / while the corporate hogs and political partners / piss through rights and public charters / legal non-starters / protest martyrs / laughing at the news from yachts in harbours

Remember when you clapped for carers / turns out you were only there to scare us / politically prepare us / to be smacked down and beaten / as the crisis deepened / profits skimmed and services cheapened / offshore gold stores nicely sweetened / the magic money tree’s in the Garden of Eton

So – the gingerbread man caught a ride with the fox / but the deal was dodgy and they hit the rocks / in a real-life, wildlife, snack-attack shock / but hey – what did ginger really expect? / so much effort to such little effect / run a little faster, be more select / trust a biscuit to trust a fox / ferry you across? / when you’re mostly fondant and your buttons are boss?

Say hello to bitcoin Barbie! / barbecue stylie / heart of plastic, smile like kylie / hyper-aware / thousand yard stare / 1.5 million followers out there / drives a Ferrari / drinks Bacardi / happy as a cop at a taser party

skip with me…

hey nonny nowhere, Jimmy can’t wait
the full moon’s rising, the hour’s late
there’s a wolf in the garden, a butcher at the gate
there’s a doctor at the door with a big covered plate
giving you a grin
drawing a syringe
his collar’s turned up
so
don’t…let….him….IN!

I’m free as a fart in the late cretaceous / huge and horny and happily herbaceous / munching in swamps that are shit but spacious / but dearie lord and goodness gracious / the atmosphere is quite outrageous / implausibly clawsy and dentally tenacious / why is everything so damned predacious?

I’m a pirate waving his cutlass har-haaar / as he crashes into a seaside bar / demanding to know where the diamonds are / but no-one seems to give a shit / it’s out of season, they’re out of it / a little disappointing I must admit / mate! stow yer noise and quit / yawns the barman, wiping the bar a bit / costume’s great – love the stitchin’ / the curly beard is proper bitchin’ / if you’re lookin’ for work we’re short in the kitchen

I’m a dog on lead, a cat on sax / blasting through the latest tracks / from our platinum album Petallax / rider of bourbon and salty snacks / it’s all good, man, jes’ relax! / we’ll soothe your ears if you scratch our backs

I’m noah’s ark sailing toward / whatever was left when the waters roared / a domestic crew of animals on board / a mouse with a mop, a lion with an ironing board

I’m Gary Cooper in a bar with chaps / snarling hey! this party slaps

I’m a wealthy clown with a squirty cigar / spinning tie and comedy car / rubber teeth and hair bizarre / who goes into politics and gets quite far / as the party-loving ethics tzar

I’m Colonel Mustard in the conservatory with the aneurysm / causing another family schism / the Reverend Plum / acting dumb / thy kingdom come, thy will be done / the old soak’s dead let’s have some fun

I’m a hokey poem about faith n’devotion / stuffed in a bottle and tossed in the ocean

I’m the Tory Party in control / fiddle-dee-dee and fol-de-rol / the poor must learn to be self-reliant / unless we see you’re a wealthy client / in which case advance friend and be recognised / your donations will always be classified / in fact – you’ll see we’ve organised / a secret nod and a VIP lane / for cooperation and mutual gain / the rest of you losers can just go hang / you haven’t the dough to be in our gang / so it’s cheers, pip-pip and cigars all round / as we burn the rules and scorch the ground

and…in other news

I went to the corner shop and asked for a sprite / and certainly got what I went for alright / a mischievous fellow with gills and fangs / seashell booties, kelpy bangs / and I stood there a minute all pensive and quiet / then asked him if he was sure it was diet / but the geezer just shook his head and laughed / so I took the thing home and ran him a bath

I’m the creature from the black lagoon / escaping the swamp in a hot air balloon / shouting smell ya later, losers / but I’m attacked by drones from a distant computer / royally fried in monstrous chunks / from the ghastly gills to the speedo trunks / plummeting back to earth with a bump

I’m your average, messianic prick / scented beard and bald head slick / posing on a bonnet for an insta pic

I’m a zombie dressed in abercrombie & fitch / staggering onto the football pitch / the ref blows hard on his little black whistle / and I end up carded, barred and gristle

I’m a ghost gone glamping, a wraith in a wrap / I’m the spirit of justice taking a nap

I’m Aurora adrift on a bougie cruise / a disney princess with a disney bruise

I’m a syncopated waiter with spoon and cup / rapping in the kitchen as the plates come up

I’m a desperate submarine captain, poor soul / octopuses pointing and laughing through the porthole

please welcome onstage for the final soliloquy / Macbeth, chuffing on a roll-up miserably:

(pause, while he smokes ad nauseum / staring out at the auditorium)

out, OUT brief candle, life’s but a walking shadow / over too quick and rigged from the get-go / you do what you can but the next thing you know / you’re stitched up by witches at the end of the show / and the only way now you get to play the Adelphi / is as the skull in the hands of an actor called Chelsea

and this is the way the world ends.
This is the way the world ends.
This is the way the world ends.

Not with a bang but a selfie.

I’m the lady of the lake / done being wet and done being fake / drying her hands before taking a break / smoking on a bench and seeing her mistake / as Arthur cometh forth and spake / Hey – didn’t you oughta be out in the drink / ready to catch my sword I think

I’m the mice in the attic / done being static / taking mouse E and acting ecstatic

I’m a muscular priest getting paid for favours / pious perks and righteous labours / a semi-automatic and a pocket of wafers / love thyself but shoot thy neighbours

I’m a deep space probe with a camera on the bonnet / monitoring an asteroid with eight billion names on it

I’m daemon DNA with a double hex / wondering who I’ll be vexxing next / marking my own front door with an X

I’m Jason and the Golden Fleece / on the run from the Greek police / for being a dick and a Ponzi schemer / boaty bloke & questy dreamer / other sundry mythdemeanours

I’m a tick at the tailors, a bug in a tux / donating to the party to get to us / making connections, moving on up / from Cheyne Walk Chelsea to the Cheltenham Cup / so singalong! : maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner / that I love the way big business has made turned the city into a theme park for the rich