December 10th

tumult of groans for

the platform alteration

waddle, grumble, scowl

What a miserable monday morning. It was freezing, all the commuters at Flitwick doing their normal huddling round the tiny stretches of platform where the train doors will open (prior to the train arriving). Oh it makes me sad to see people indignify themselves so. So it cheered me up when they made a platform alteration as the lights of the train in the distance were getting brighter and brighter. Cue the mass migration of the miserable gnus running up the stairs and down the others to get to the other platform before the train left without them. Oh it cheers me to see people’s routine shattered, especially when they are acting like bell ends.

October 24th

the miserable

piss-stink underground car park

dim lights, despair, Slough

Yes. I had to visit Slough. Not my favourite place in the world. At least my Haiku is merely observational, as opposed to the all out eradication called for by well loved Poet Laureate Sir John Betjeman. His poem is comedic genius, read aloud it’s really fun. If I was from Slough, I would be proud of it! In full below…

 

Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough!

It isn't fit for humans now,

There isn't grass to graze a cow.

Swarm over, Death!

Come, bombs and blow to smithereens

Those air -conditioned, bright canteens,

Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans,

Tinned minds, tinned breath.

Mess up the mess they call a town-

A house for ninety-seven down

And once a week a half a crown

For twenty years.

And get that man with double chin

Who'll always cheat and always win,

Who washes his repulsive skin

In women's tears:

And smash his desk of polished oak

And smash his hands so used to stroke

And stop his boring dirty joke

And make him yell.

But spare the bald young clerks who add

The profits of the stinking cad;

It's not their fault that they are mad,

They've tasted Hell.

It's not their fault they do not know

The birdsong from the radio,

It's not their fault they often go

To Maidenhead

And talk of sport and makes of cars

In various bogus-Tudor bars

And daren't look up and see the stars

But belch instead.

In labour-saving homes, with care

Their wives frizz out peroxide hair

And dry it in synthetic air

And paint their nails.

Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough

To get it ready for the plough.

The cabbages are coming now;

The earth exhales.

July 16th

 

flying squirrel launched

sailing from the curtain rail

four paws splayed in air

The cat was sitting next to me whilst I worked on the PC yesterday. I thought of her as a kitten, she could run effortlessly up the curtains like spider-cat. Coming down was the fun bit.

I wrote a longer poem about her, probably the soppiest thing I’ve ever written, I emailed it to D, it was for her. I don’t want to ruin my hardman reputation by publishing it!

July 13th

So jealous of me

possessive apostrophe

misused not amused

I was having issues with my possessive apostrophes, so I wrote a silly haiku about one being so possessive it got jealous. I know, cheesy… but it made me laugh ok! :)

June 2nd

light splatters the walls

wildebeest throng grunt and grind

flesh pressed in the swill

Maybe I’m just getting old. As designated driver, I could watch the pub fill up with cold sober detachment and observe the behaviours of human wildlife, much like David Attenborough would be, commenting on migratory wildebeest on the savannah. It was bloody carnage just trying to get to the loo. These smooth dance music places just aren’t for me! Glad I had a seat!

May 17th

Testosterone talk

Boobies football and cursing

Hi-viz and muscles

A silly Haiku today, I was in our work canteen, lots of hi-viz jackets. The thing is, my Haiku does not represent reality in the slightest. The atmosphere was serene, there are ladies who work in the warehouse too. It was just my projection of some 1970s vision of what I think large factories or warehouses must’ve been like.

Farting, swearing and looking at busty ladies in topless calendars whilst drinking tea with three sugars. I watched too many “gritty” sitcoms back in the day seemingly. Although I can’t think of one which specifically had such uncomplicated characters.

I’m a bit of a soft pawed irreverent nobhead really, says more about me!

April 17th

When I die I want

my body to feed the earth

trees born inside me

I was thinking today, how cremation seems such a waste. I’d like to be buried so what nutrients I contained be returned to the earth, seeds germinating in what was the shell of my body. Obviously only when I’m dead, I’d be quite frightened if I was buried alive.

I think a combination of reading Murakami, the rainy cold change in the weather and listening to Mogwai in the car has contributed to these thoughts. But it’s not negative in the slightest, not an obsession with death, just an observation. Tomorrow I might think about Houmous or South London. Could be anything.

April 14th

Another two haikus today, lucky you! The second one made me laugh, not that I think it’s great, I’ll leave you to judge that, just that it’s silly and appealed to my sense of humour. First haiku..

 

Marsh marigolds drag

themselves out of the darkness

to kiss the king’s lips

 

The big pond and the ditches and pools in the moors are glowing yellow with Marsh Marigolds (also known as kingcups). The ones in the pond have tadpoles congregated round them, in the shallow areas where the perch can’t eat them I assume.

Another pic, I had to lean down from the platform over the pond. I put my bum in danger of getting wet. All for my art.

 

Onto the second haiku, there are little calves, multi-coloured beautiful little things. They rarely stray from their loving mothers, seemingly tucked under their hind legs, suckling away. So cute.

 

Bovine procession

the little one says “Udders!”

“Run to our mothers!”

The photo is fun, they started scooting to where their mums were gathered when they got a bit spooked. I imagined the three of them having adventures like the famous five, except there’s three of them and they’re cows. Then one of them started mock humping the little one, I was trying to take another cute innocent shot, but the “curious” fellow kind of spoiled that. The incident mangled the Enid Blyton image for me somewhat. I wasn’t going to share this photo, but as I had to see it, then so do you!

Ps – Just published and noticed the offending part of the image is obscured by my layout on the right. I think this censorship is entirely appropriate, when this blog gets older and dips down below the layout content, then you can see it, until then, trust me!

April 4th

Offensive chickpeas

scoffed noisily on the train

shut your cake hole dude

 

I take umbrage with bad manners. It really is something that irritates me. Three examples in the last couple of days.

1) A guy in our London office, he’s got his feet, his dirty shoes, perched on the edge of the low table in what we call the “comfy” chairs (they aren’t comfy, they are just low and you have to lean forward to get anywhere near your laptop otherwise you just sink into a spongy mire and possibly sucked into an alternative universe). Anyway, his shoes. I was offended by this as it is disrespectful to any colleague who might happen to sit there after him, but also to our office cleaners, why should they have to scrape the residue of his poo feet from the surfaces? It’s downright rude. I considered shouting “GET YOUR FUCKING FEET OFF THE TABLE!” to him, but I desisted as he was on a call. So I just simmered about it at my desk, because although I like good manners, fairness and respect all lifeforms, I am not particularly brave, or good at confronting people.

2) A guy just sits on a stool next to me at the table in the pub. Now usually it is good manners to ask “do you mind if I sit here?” or “is anyone using this chair?” before you plonk your polyester suited crumpled fat arse into my personal space. He went away eventually, as my vibes of fury were flying into him.

3) There was a guy eating chickpeas on the train. Now usually, I wouldn’t be offended by people eating something as low key as chickpeas, but it was the *way* he was eating them. I believe there is an etiquette to food on trains. Stinky hot food should be avoided. I hate it when people bring burgers onto the train. Or some other rancid conglomerate of semi fried mystery meat. Inert food, that’s cool, like a sandwich with minimal vapours of stink, I’m totally fine about it and yes, I abide by my own rules. So why was he annoying me? Because he was eating them noisily. Even above the screaming metal of train on track and the constant rattle of the carriage, all I could hear was SLURP-MUNCH-MUNCH-MUNCH-GASP-MUNCH-MUNCH ad infinitum. He didn’t need to eat with his mouth open, he didn’t need to chew like a camel, he certainly didn’t need to slurp them! It’s a fucking small nut like thing dude! It’s not slippery, it’s a dry round thing! And finally, he didn’t need to have to gasp for breath whilst chewing because the fucker was eating so fast. I amused myself by mimicking him. It was kind of crazy, but it passed the time.

March 14th

Sampson fantasy,

Clipper emasculation,

No more flowing locks.

 

Ok, a silly one today. I’ve been promising to get my haircut. Although I like long(ish) hair, it’s:

1) Hard to maintain, it just grows into a virile afro-bush most days

2) Takes forever to dry

3) I’m useless at straightening it (I tried once and nearly melted my ears)

4) I don’t want to end up looking like one of those ridiculous middle aged men with a massive receding spam head and a stringy mess of pathetic spider web like strands dragged forward and sideways to give the impression of volume and style. (some would argue I’ve already caught this train!)

January 31st

 

Time to choose. Be Brave.

Pin your colours, or you’ll grow,

Saggy boobs of shame.

 

I was invited by the Southbank Centre to attend the press preview for the David Shrigley exhibition at the Hayward Gallery today (formally opens tomorrow). They liked my blog! Even with all the profanity and ill informed opinions! So I was proper chuffed by that. First time ever (and perhaps the last) I’ll get to say “I’m here for the press preview” in a Sean Connery voice (I didn’t do the voice).

I’ll write a proper post about all things Shrigley on my other blog, but for today, a Haiku about my favourite Shrigley image. It was on a greeting card I bought once. It’s not in the exhibition, but it was my first exposure to David Shrigley, so it’s my way of honouring the first bit of his work I ever saw. And yes, the exhibition is great, worth a visit.