The Bridge That Never Was

Boris paid out £50 mil
for the bridge that never was
The taxpayer did foot the bill
for the bridge that never was
You can’t see it and you can’t stroll on it
but you know it would have had a toll on it
Boris built the only ever bridge
that never ever was…


Shoeshine Britain

80% of the economy is in the service industry.

We shine the boots of the Tory blight who stamp down hard with all their might then treat us all as if we’re shite.

Were locked outside of powers doors, while they draft in draconian laws then watch us like a digital hawk, with a constant prod of austerity fork, they close youth club and library while charging us a hefty fee, enslaved to a false economy that keeps their rigged up markets free.

Forced to live on an impoverished wage with sky-high rent in this day and age, you try your best to make ends meet, put clothes on your back, or shoes on your feet or home to heat…but have nothing left for something to eat.

The only choices we seem to get is to starve or be forced into debt. It comes as no great surprise to find suicide is on the rise…


Tea is the drink I love.
A taste that comes from heaven above.
I wake every day and the fourth thing I do,
(after 3/dressing 2/washing 1/going to the loo)
is stick on the kettle and have my first brew.

Tea just tastes divine.
You can stick your coffee, whisky and wine.
Two sugars and milk, fill my mug to the top,
steady when walking, on the floor, it will slop.

Tea really lifts my mood.
But I get slightly miffed if it’s over-brewed.
though even then, with its very strong taste,
I still drink it down, not a drop do I waste.

Tea just never gets old.
When I leave it too long I still drink it cold
and when my time, on this earth comes to pass,
please bury me somewhere along with my flask

Thinking of you (an apocalyptic love poem)

The moon hung high in silent grace

The clouds drift gently ‘cross her face

The sky above turned cadet blue

And I found myself thinking of you


Then a sudden flash of brilliant white

turned the shadow into light

A mushroom rises to great height

I know this is our final night

Yet my thoughts remain on you


A blast wave speeds across the sky

The end is near for you & I

For both of us are bound to die

But final thoughts don’t question why

They just remain on you


A Brief History Of Modern British Politics

part one; The Early Years
In this Divided Kingdom, the chasm’s vast, as rich thrive, poor fast.
Offshore banks for politicians, millionaires. Food banks for nurses, carers.
Fat cats dine on gourmet meals & wrangle out of fat tax bills.
The rest left to struggle, cope & are quickly running out of hope.
Back in 1979,  heartless Government drew a line.
Sold off the council stock, house prices go through the roof, no great shock
Landlords rubbed their hands with glee, high rent for tenants, poverty.
Tories told us greed was good & there’s no such thing as neighbourhood.
On yer bike was Tebbit’s cry as Thatcher bled the miners dry.
The media backed up every word, treated us like sheep to herd.
Police on horseback, batons drawn, charge protestors at first dawn.
Brixton & Toxteth riots, 1981. Civil disturbance on a mass scale, so many ended up in jail.
Battle of Wapping, printers strike, no pay for a year, 6000 sacked, 1200 arrested, all
Government backed.
Hillsborough, 15 April 1989. 96 die. Parents grieve while media lie.
Families denied justice for 28 years, deep concerns fell on deaf ears.
Kelvin MacKenzie, the S*n, The Truth, couldn’t be further from, just to create alibis, all
one giant pack of lies.

To Dream

As night draws on to early dawn

prostration comes within a yawn

Above the Moon lie starlight skies

You lie in bed and close your eyes

Still silence clears both mind and soul

With darkened view as black as coal

Consciousness slips, as dreams begin

To compose scenes from deep within

Images start to appear

At first in shroud then slowly clear

A message from subconscious mind

Lost thoughts and images combined

A wonderous gift to dream the night

Yet fade away as does starlight


Shattered Dreams

As night draws on to early dawn

Young foxes play upon the lawn

Silence clears the mind and soul

And darkness is as black as coal

Images start to appear

At first dim but slowly clear

Consciousness slips & dreaming starts

Then abruptly shattered by Molly’s farts

And this one’s extra smelly too

I’d better check for follow through

The Night Of The Grenfell Fire

The wind blew toward the West on the night of the Grenfell fire.

The cladding, not to protect but hide, was one cause of this funeral pyre.

As we awoke to the smell of the smoke, during that terrible night,

we switched on the news to see where it was and couldn’t believe the sight.

As the night drew on it was plain to see for many, there was no hope,

Hundreds died on that terrible night, as cut services struggled to cope.

We have to make sure and write into law so this never happens again.

Red tape was there for good reason yet erased by the Government’s pen.

Class War

In Kensington Town Hall, the well to do

look down with contempt upon me & you

We’ll stand our ground & won’t let them win

to make sure this tragedy never happens again

they’ve shat upon us for 7 long years

derided, divided, excluded & jeered

austerity forced on those with the least

caused by rich who are still at the feast

jc may the force be with u