One Liners

‘Fire a harpoon into the past…’

She was beautiful…

I’ve got to get out of here…

No time like the present…

Or the past…

‘Fire a harpoon into the past…’

I should like that…

I do like that..

Fire a harpoon into the past

Faces, faces, I’m coming last

(coming at last)

I’m coming at last…

I’m coming at last…


I never thought I’d get out of there…

Choose Life

Choose life…choose sofas, choose bleeping microwave ovens, choose doilies and straw-men. Choose Radio 2, whiskey and spiced rum drink. Choose writing, art and creativity. Choose architecture with a capital A, Choose McDonald’s, Choose Subway, Choose Marks and Spencers. Choose Dell Computers. Choose a gingerbread man, Choose a tablet and smartphone. Choose Big Screen Greek Weddings, Choose Russel Brand and Great British Bake Off. Choose Sara Cox, Choose Jo Wiley Choose Blues Club Choose Daysaver Choose cheese and tomato. Choose Greggs Choose Donuts, Choose Chocolate fucking brownies. Choose Freeview, choose neighbours, Choose Trainspotting, Choose Star Wars, Choose Justice League Choose Batman and the Flash, Choose Anime and Manga, Llamas and Pokemon, Choose Cool stuff, Choose consumer heaven, Choose daytime television, Choose? choose tooth whitening. Choose a house, a mortgage, a widescreen and curved television and Infiniti Cars. Choose a jet washer and a wife. Choose a box made for two, choose a chemical-free existence, Choose a boat ride, Choose three friends, choose hitchhiking, illegal raves and apple scrumping. Choose Schizophrenia. Choose asylums. Choose Paris in Winter. Choose Milan, Choose New York. Choose banana and chocolate Choose baked potatoes and Chet Baker. Choose Jeremy Vine, Choose Eggheads, Choose Mastermind. Choose Tipping Point, The Chase, Choose Woman’s Weekly. Choose Vogue photographs and Choose a Gold Fucking Credit Card. Choose Radio 4 and John Humphries. Choose Woman’s Hour and The Archers. Choose I Haven’t Got A Clue. Choose XXL, Choose 18 and Over, Choose malady. Choose dishcloths, Choose Mr Muscle, Choose Detoll, Choose Ready To Wear, Choose nurseries, Choose plums and Choose An Apple Tree For The Garden. Choose Left, choose anarchy, choose antidisestablishmentarianism, Choose Boris Johnson, Teresa May, Choose a cabinet of weaklings, Choose Brexit. Choose Ink by Post, Choose Franking, Jiffy bags and homemade cards, Choose Whats App, Choose Android, Lollipop Girl and The Play Store. Choose Itunes, Choose MyPhone, Choose carefully. Choose flute music, Choose Spotify, Choose to listen to the radio. Choose Open University, Adult Education And Distance Learning. Choose Cassettes and Vinyl. Choose tats and white skin. Choose hair Choose piercings, Choose Children and ice cream.  Choose Jim, Choose dope, Just the once, choose gigs, choose cigarettes and lighters. Choose Glastonbury and doctors, Choose LG Arena. Choose acoustically, Choose cheese suppers and aubergine. Choose a wine and petit dejeuner. Choose Switzerland. Choose Audi, Choose Olive Oil, Choose Dentistix, Choose Bonio. Choose Pentangle. Choose to slack, choose to carjack, choose fountain pens and business. Choose to the bank for a career, Choose to drown in beer, choose jackass to choose America, Choose Canada, Belize and Cyprus. Choose Northern Ireland, Choose Sinn Fein, Choose Protestant, Choose catholic, Choose a line in the sand, choose walking on coals, Choose a fakir, Choose forgery, Choose witchcraft and blasphemy, Choose a council flat Choose a cap, choose a hat, Choose a beanbag, choose relaxing, Choose hedonism with free parking, Choose Restraint, Choose a Strait-Jacket, Choose a home, Choose a life. Choose rain, choose Hail Ceasar, Choose grassroots, Choose a union, choose a future with or without a wife. Choose depression, repression and concessions. Choose box sets, Netflix and Amazon fucking Prime. Choose Jacomo Choose Guantanamo. Choose chocolate cake, or lemon drizzle, choose Maderia or swiss roll, choose spring roll and vegetable curry, choose spare ribs and barbecue sauce, choose Dim Sum Starters. Choose your DAW.

to be continued…

The Itch

I had to scratch my itch again

It’s like I have just got hands

and know where to go

to get that feeling

that isn’t sexual but isn’t entirely neutral

nor mechanical, nor subliminal

It’s my itchy fingers on a keyboard

words on the screen, maybe the big, big screen

One day…

Until then I will dream and scratch my itch

nightly, daily, whenever it may seem

And get closer to my glory

wherever that may be

another publishing or a deal or three

until then I will scratch my itch , again.

I scratch my itch to get at what lurks outside the back doors

trying to get back in by wearing a smile.

My itch is the innocent that walked the extra mile

that did not give up when it got lonely

who did not react to girls all homely

But one who started straight ahead staring out judge Dredd

and all those lame heroes

who never had a mother.

I am itching, So I scratch, I am itching So I scratch.

I want It so bad…

I deserve it So much…

Give me your best and I will match it…

you know…I am so much scratch made itch I am bleeding poor

There’s a (The nineties) wolf at the door

But its 2017 Bro, No place to hide , nowhere to go.

You know, so I scratch my itch once more

until you’re knocking at my door.




I was hungry so I went to the shop and bought some biscuits, ones that are good for dunkin’.

I rummaged in my pocket to see what change I had. All I could see were two fifty pees with the Three Lions on them. This was almost as far back as 1993. Still I had enough for a pot noodle too. A right old feast would now ensue.

I boiled the kettle ignoring the bits of limescale that floated near the bottom and made myself an extra sugar mug of tea in an oversized mug. Let’s sit down and enjoy what’s on the telly, Its Ainsley Harriot Can’t Cook, Won’t Cook. Next is Supermarket Sweep. I can’t go wrong it seems today. (hip-hip-hurray)

I turn up the box and open my packet of biscuits. Loose biscuits fall in a shower over my jeans and into the cracks between the cushions of the sofa. Fucking hell! I move my cup of tea from the arm of the sofa to the television table while I gather biscuits and spread crumbs all over the floor where they lay ready for the hoover.

I sit down again and notice I am sitting on my keys. I retrieve them from my back pocket and lay them on the sofa next to me. and reach for a biscuit but they are not there. I have left them on the television table. And the cup of tea. I stand up and walk over and get them and then walk back and sit down again.

The phone rings. I go answer it. it is my mother asking me of I will be home for Christmas. I tell her I guess so. We talk for five minutes and then I go to continue what I began. I need a cigarette. I go find my pack and light up in my bedroom then I return to the living room and see a pigeon fly past the window.

I go and sit down under the window. I realise that I need an ashtray. I go to the kitchen where there is an ashtray and flick my ash on the floor before I carry it back to the living room.

I pick up the cup of tea. and drink it in one gulp.

I look at the biscuits who stare back at me accusingly. Why didn’t you eat me as promised? they implore of me. I look back innocently and think. Ha, thats destiny!!

Off the sea

I can hear the waves rushing in off the sea

I don’t know but to me this is poetry

Its like everyone is here from 1993

In the air is a poem carrying some psyence fiction

and in my throat a sound, like a moan but more guttural like a gorilla

Children of the age from Landon town in pink wearing a frown upside down

Marshmallows by the fire and suddenly its time! So soon. Back to my room.

And it’s the Seventies again tonite. Come on Eileen! Come on! We’re having fun.

David Bowie on a yacht asking me could it be so much fun. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Yes I can grab your gun we’re going for a run into town to see what’s going down

Hello, Titch, I’ve got a dog named Mitch back at home but here I’m all alone…

Alone in despair but I don’t care. I think I’m destined for better things.

What rhymes with this mote on my finger? Better things/ Golden Rings

Suddenly I’m ten again and the world seems to be very large. I play in a corner, alone.

Are you one of them? Or are you one of us? to which the only answer can be – I think I’m one of me.

Speedway on the track, no time for looking back into a grey haze on duvet days.

Another false dawn comes as no surprise to my eyes, my eyes, my eyes come as no surprise.

And blink and count back from ten. Then come looking for us.

Whigfield Was Right

Longpigs, She Said

Stone Roses, Second Coming

U2 Zooropa

Radiohead – The Bends

FYC – The raw and the cooked.


Whigfield Was Right

Up amongst the high notes

In a pink halter top top

Dance Oriented Pop

Emotions and ambition

With a Synth and A Drum Machine

Baby Baby Baby,

Cry, Cry Cry

Metallica -Ride The Lightning

Big Time

Out of Sight

Harpsicord Piano

In tune with your emotions.

No Rhyme nor reason for it

Whigfield was right.