Monthly Archives: August 2012

The Book Club Set


The upper middle classes
with their champagne glasses
discussing the merits of J.K. Rowling
or Franz Kafka in some grand setting
The scholars amongst us with their diplomas
and their Mercedes-Benz parked outside
But if I was invited to their private circle
I wouldn’t feel the need to hide
For I can hold my own in a conversation
with just about anyone
Yes, I can discuss “Tom Sawyer”
With a doctor or a lawyer
Or Hans Christian Andersen
With a successful businessman
So there!
And I’m afraid a finger buffet
is all very well…but I’m really hungry!

Le Velo (The Bicycle)


How I hate pushin’ a bike up a hill
‘Though cyclin’ down is such a thrill
Just as long as the brakes don’t fail!
I used to enjoy ridin’ my bike through the countryside
Where the roads could be narrow or extremely wide
and a lot less traffic, than in the big cities
and you might pass female cyclists, so pretty
Dismount, approach her and talk
Then find yourself going for a walk
in a secluded wood
where you’d get up to no good
Or have a roll in the haystack
Drinkin’ the “Scrumpy Jack”
that she had in her basket perched on the handlebars
and feast on all the contents, cheese, baguette, chocolate bars
Then you can help her fix her chain
and wave goodbye as she cycles off in the rain
You could listen to the classic “Bicycle Race” by Queen
Or watch “Le Tour De France” on the big screen
in a bar in Paris

Or you could sit in your lounge with a DVD
Of the 50s classic “The Bicycle Thieves”
Back in the days when cinema was golden
‘Though it may be painful, if you’ve had a bike stolen!…

Fantastic Voyage


I once knew a man
who went to Japan
I’d love to see the Sumos
The ladies in their kimonos
Or watch Godzilla movies ’til my heart’s content
This sounds to me, like some strange kind of fulfilment
Oodles of noodles! Washed down with a nice glass of sake
and nowhere will you be subjected to “Big Brother” or “Parky”
There’s a gallery in Tokyo of a chimpanzee’s art
Japan’s not just pollution, you know
some of them are all heart
From “Blazing neon”
to the “Rabbit warren”
You might well think the Japs are crazy
but why does the west
always know best
maybe it’s their vision that’s hazy
The man of which I wrote
went there on a boat
still, if you’re not in a hurry
Then there’s no need to worry…about airports and flights

Real Man Who Eats Quiche


I ain’t no macho man, boastin’  ’bout my sexual prowess
Always in the gym pumpin’ iron, No! And do I eat quiche? Yes!
I’m in touch with my feminine side, you see
and I’m not afraid to say I have quiche for tea
My torso ain’t covered head to toe in tattoos
and I don’t consume my body weight in booze!
What’s more, I ain’t always gettin’ into fights
and I tucked into a cheese and onion quiche last night
I’m an artist and a poet…I’ve carved out a niche
and I ain’t afraid to admit I enjoy an ASDA quiche
I am a real man, see the hairs on my chest
And I like a plate of quiche. Served cold, best….



Diego Forlan…what a great striker
Diego Forlan…I couldn’t help but like ya
Everytime you came off the bench for Man. United
I couldn’t help but get excited
For you’re a pretty Uruguayan fellow
I’d love to share roasted marshmallows…
with you on some South American campsite
practise my Spanish with you under the moonlight
Diego Forlan, you’re a star!

Carlos The Dancing Fool


Carlos was a Cuban
with a dancing obsession
Dancing, for him, was escapism from poverty
His dancing often reached levels of insanity
He’d dance to work in the morning
He’d dance on the bus without warning
He’d dance in the salsa clubs in the evening
His life was pointless and without meaning
He was just a dancing addict
someone completely tragic
One night, he was out dancing by the  river
He fell in and drowned, for he was no swimmer!