Friday, November 14, 2008



Rachel, you ain’t got no knees
It’s sad I know but please,
Don’t worry ‘bout having them gone
You sold them, you know that it’s wrong

Oh Rachel you said some stupid things
As you sold that Russian your limbs,
You said you weren’t going to miss ‘em
My friend, she just wouldn’t listen, as we sang


Rachel you ain’t got no knees
Rachel, why did you lease,
Your left leg to a muslim
Your right arm to a Jew,
The Catholic’s an appendix
And the Buddhist’s your poo?
Rachel, Rachel,
your two limbs too few!

Oh kids don’t hawk out your joints
To ASDA for nectar points,
Don’t swap them for cider
Or sell them for a fiver

Or you’ll be like Rachel with two limbs too few!

Wednesday, November 12, 2008


They say time heals all: but tonight
The ticking clock hails nothing new,
But endless seconds echoed away 'till five o'clock;
The first timid trace of dawns' dim light.

The air is thick. It doesn't move, but hangs,
just as it does in the light. Theres no difference then
between night and day, no cut off point,
no spiritual sensation of a big bang

To mark something changed. Tomorrow,
The working day will be the same, the coffee,
Idle chatter with the clerk at her desk:
Days marked by an ever deepening sorrow.


Oh Lord, save me from everything iniquitous,

Oh Lord, save me from myself

Save me from Tuesday night’s and sat on the edge of the bed

Staring with existential dread,

Save me from holiday’s
Save me from nothing to do
Save me from TV, coffee, tea & death
Save me from me

Save me from pencil death staring at the whiteboard of eternity
As pencil necked men pencil in pointlessness on the eyelid’s of
Monday morning, face fucked from here to Friday on the back
Of productivity & pro-activity & performance, Oh Lord! Save
Them for they do not know, oh Lord! Save them for they do not see
The words that haunt them are the words that
Blind them, the words that blind them
Are the words of work that blinds and
Haunts them, on Tuesday’s of Huddles at three PM
When the soul is stretched thin over coals
Of scores racked up & spat out & sucked up
Into the vacuum of the Trial of the Castle of
Postmen going postal, of old age and pension
Slips, collected and dejected marching out of
Post offices, unwanted & unloved and hated above &
Below and holed
just there.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Stewart's Diary

I've been keeping a diary for my friend.

I think I need to record for posterity how evil Stewart is.


Day one: Stewart is going to Seville to watch football. He tries to hide the real reason for going, but all his friends know he's going to perv at men in shorts. Stew admitted that he has no time for his friends anymore. It could be because he has AIDS. Stewart incited me to call a work colleague a tramp. Now I have an enemy in the office who tells me to fuck off. I shouldn’t listen to Stewart but I feel obliged to because he has herpes.


Day Two: Stewart is adamant him and jesus are the same. He sent me a picture of a T-Shirt saying Jesus is gay to point out the similarity. I think Stewart would be much happier if he came out of the closet and admitted his religion. He sent me a list of his favourite things today:

Stewart CS: cheese
Stewart CS: poo
Stewart CS: weeeeee

He also admitted that he doesn’t get paid enough or frequently when he said “Stewart CS: i hope we get paid before xmas again this year” as he hasn’t been paid since February and has to eat on peoples charity.


Day Three: Stewart hasn't mailed me yet - the depression caused by the lack of money and having Bad AIDS must have made him even more ill. Poor Stewart, if only someone would give him the break he deserves he could a decent job rather than having to whore himself out to these mysterious events in Tel Aviv, Birmingham and Munich.

Stewart sent me an e-mail, immediately showing his schizophrenic problems by telling me

Stewart GIBCS: mate i am a legend

And he proceeded to continue to claim he is better than Jesus by calling one of His miracles a trick

Stewart GIBCS: not like a water into wine trick

Stewart also told me he wants to write philosophy. However, his intentions are mis-aimed as he told me he is

Stewart GIBCS: contemplating the steak in the fridge.


Day Four: Stewart phoned me and the first word he said was "gay". Maybe he thinks I'm a bit slow, but his hints that he might bat for the other side are blatantly obvious. Stewart’s favourite past-time is knitting. He collects GoodFood magazine – need I say more?


Stew is trying to change me. I pity the fool for his BAD AID's as it makes him take up pointless quests. Today Stew winked at me four times and blew two kisses. I have two witnesses. HE MUST BE STOPPED!!!!!