He was looking for fun.

And to him, fun meant possibility without consequence.

Photograph

(glossy, edges worn)

Three figures, motion-blurred. Arms raised. Faces indistinct.

On the back:

This is when it still felt like freedom.

Below, in darker ink:

Or when you started confusing attention with affection.

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That was the first mistake.

Three people, separated by distance and doubt, feel the same

unease at the same moment — the sense that something has shifted.

Not forward.

Sideways.

Somewhere, a signal fails to arrive. Somewhere else, it is

received too late.

Chapter 1: Transmission fragments, voice memos, fragmented

conversations.

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Fireworks and anger management. Time Travel (again)

Walking in the dark.

The joys of Grandchildren

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Darts

Alien Abductions

Conspiracies

Space Wankers

More Space

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A week off work and I went to the moon. Sorry that's not what I meant to say.

It's all about communication and it's no laughing matter

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MAGA

President Neanderthal

Who DO You Watch?

Fuzzy Duck???

Strummer’s Law

Never Read

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Every Skinhead Is Nazi. Know Your History.

The dangers of going to a gig. Losing the love of your life.

Cat's Got Your Tongue. Hospital league tables.

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Music from The Cute, Leftfield and Mogwai with additional Europa Euphoria

Waka Waka eh-eh

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The usual Reality Propaganda

A Winter Wonderland

James Corden, Baba Ganoush, Simon Armitage, Matthew Henson, Barbage

Homelessness

LA Burning

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Sun, moon, fire and star. Love… in the world, this universe.

This night....

The bottom line is whether it’s The Cure or Band Aid, Ed Sheeran, The Clash, Prince, George Michael, Beethoven, Dirt Box Disco, Charlie XCX or even… Coldplay, music is everywhere and music still matters.

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Flesh , Genital Mutilation.,

JK Rowling and The Hand That Guides

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Chagossians (Shaggers). People Destroy Places. Gaia Mother Earth.

Big Ange Get The Badge In.

Going Into Exile

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The Commune

South Of The Border

Space

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Out On The Town

Stop The World

Stay Safe

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End of the Olympics

Change Control

Anti Social Network

Surveillance Island

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The Best Summer Ever!

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Whatever gets your gravy dribbling.

I love Tottenham more than you. Usual mix of ramblings, music and poetry. First love and true love and why I don't want to fall in love with you. Plus the ultimate boxing match between Everard Elvis and New Man Norman.

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Christmas Special

The Season Of Goodwill

Cold Comfort

When Did You Stop Believing

Pete The Meat (with Major Mishap Marching Band)

To be thankful for good health

Or wealth

Or good luck

Never give things a second thought

Take it all for granted

And look enviously at others

See what they’ve got

Not content with my lot

Want more than I have

Always craving more

Always wanting more

Ungratefully grateful

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If I was on Mastermind. Being shy and my insecurities.

Solipsism; the theory that the self is the only thing that can be known and verified... me being a selfish prick.

Exhibition

You want war – I’ll give you war

You want dreams – I’ll give you dreams

You want hope – I’ll give you hope

You want blood – I’ll give you blood

You want love – I’ll give you love.

You want clean air, mountains, blue skies

Fresh water running gently down the sides

Peaceful meadows, animal roaming quietly

Clear seas of blue and green

Nature at peace and harmony.

You want the night, so black and cold

Harder than steel, longer than your dreams

A darkness of infinity

Where lovers entwine forever; violins and wine

A sleep to last till the dawn, that may never arrive.

You want the hate that pulses deep inside

That boils and burns, paining to escape

Anger that leads to bigotry, prejudice and ignorance

Turning man against man, inside and out

That causes wars that can never be explained.

You want the touch of my hand upon your face

To soothe your tortured skin

Smooth away the torment and pressure

To hold you in my arms again

And shelter and protect against the evils that we make.

You want war and I’ll give you war

You want dreams and I’ll give you dreams

You want hope and I’ll give you hope

You want blood and I’ll give you blood

You want love and I’ll give you love.

You want drugs to escape this madness

Something to enjoy, to shut out the world

So personal, so real; a feeling

To forget the pain, misery and disease

This madman’s cure that we’ve created.

You want murder to justify revenge

The slaughter of babes because of a sign

Death of unbelievers, non-believers of a faith in your eyes

Harness destruction in the name of life

Embrace atrocity because of a name.

You want war and I’ll give you my war

You want dreams and I’ll give you my dreams

You want hope and I’ll give you my hope

You want blood and I’ll give you my blood

You want love and I’ll give you my love

You decide

You decide.

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Gary Lineker. The best World Cup ever... USA 94. Death Row Dogs. Freedom to speak up and speak out. Adidas versus Puma. Jesse Owens. Saka letting the country down. Former Yugoslavia. Ice skating, and how we are all skating on thin ice.

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An apology to Ethan. Napoleon (again!). The return of David Cameroon. Storms in the UK.

Fata Morgana

same again?

 go on mate

 go on pal

have another drink

have another sip

come on Sup up

same again

now where were we?

 where we were before

putting the world to rights

 rocking all over the world

 chit and chat

 chew the fat

drink up you're going nowhere fast

you’ve got nothing better to do

 nothing to go home for

 nothing to get up for

 nothing changes

the song remains the same

 same tunes same riffs

the status quo

 whatever you want whatever you want

 repeat

 more tea vicar

sorry just my tea repeating itself

control C control V

 cut and paste

 leaving a bad taste in the mouth

 like watching a rerun of Mrs. Brown's boys on Christmas Day

 or an echo in an empty room

but only you can hear deceptively

perceptively

 or a ******* parrot or a ******* parrot

 Or a rabbit crunching on carrots

Or a dog chasing its tail going round and round round in circles

 or goldfish swimming around around around

wondering every 4th second

 pondering on life on what is real and what is allusion

 just like  an apparition

a delusion

Fata Morgana

 have a banana

castles in the sky

the reasons why the Flying Dutchman

 was destined to never reach drylands

failed to dock in port

a New Year's resolution of good intention

to change make a difference

forgetting repeating

keep saying the same old thing

keep doing the same old things

 day after day month after month year after year

echo

repeat

go on mate

 go on pal

same again?

 same again

 sick of saying the same old same old.

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Remembering Remembrance Day.

Midnight

Birds tinged red

Fly silently

Across night skies

A special time for

Beginnings and endings

Almost yesterday

Almost today

A time when past and futures collide

All things change at midnight

Today becomes yesterday

Tomorrow is today

Today is yesterday

Tomorrow is today

All things change at midnight

Timescales change a paradox

In empty rooms the ticking clocks

Echoing ready to chime

Count to nine

Time forever

Time forever moving forwards

Time, never ever going backwards

Just another day to pray

Everything points North

Clouds cross the moon

And the shadow Prince appears

Revealing desire and fear

Of the Winter to come

From dusk to dawn

It’s getting hotter

It’s getting colder

Unfolds a haunting mystery

Scare man into rationality

Technology to kill or cure

100 seconds to go

Just 100 seconds to go

All things change at midnight.

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My Ghost Story

Zombie Apocalypse

Oblivion

Dark Magik

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VAR, plane crashes and a dislike for Facebook. The usual cheery stuff from the adorable Muttley. Includes a live performance from Muttley and The Marauders of "Costly Words".

Talk

So many things to do

All to be seen through

So many things to say

All to be crammed in a day

Little things to remind

Looking out to find

Giving little words of guidance

“Do you want a dance?”

Lovers whisper sweet nothings

Words disguised by coughing

The quick seducer uses his charm

Steals the heart with love and smarm

Life histories are told

Cheap lives are sold

Young boys try but stumble

Nubile girls try but fumble

Old men end by grumbling

Old women end by mmmumbling

It’s no good a one-way conversation

What is needed is oral stimulation

Some words are spoken

But gestures are token

Do you talk with feeling?

Do you talk with meaning?

Or is it talk for talk sake

Is your talk a fake?

Is it your communication?

Or vocal castration.

Is it your communication

Is it you oral ammunition?

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Comedians

Rock n roll is dead because that’s what they say

Another art to whitewash, another tune to play

Geriatric rockers from the land that time forgot

Jagger and Bowie had their day, goodbye and that’s your lot

Send them out to the farmyards to old pastures to graze

But what we got to take their place? What’s the latest craze?

Where are the visionaries from the days of long hot Donna Summers?

What ever happened to heroes of Lydon, Weller and Strummer?

But we’ve got laughter! Comedy’s the name of the game

Joking little jokers have found their way to fame

Just like the good old days of laughing in the stalls

“I met her outside the pawnbrokers, she kissed me under the balls!”

With all our yesterdays of Jimmy, Bob and Bruce

New kids from the block swing down and start to kick it loose

Golden days of the London Palladium

Don’t need the old dumps; young jokers sell out Wembley Stadium.

So I sat and watched the telly to see what it’s all about

I fell asleep a dozen times and my dreams I did shout

“Did you ever hear the one about the you know what?”

I tried and tried to stumble on, but the punchline I forgot

So I forced myself to watch on to see what this lot’s got

My friend he had to prod me, when to laugh and when to not

He had to hit me sixty times but the prompts became pokes

My ribs turned black then blue, but I still didn’t get the jokes

So at half time at the interval I switched to the other side

And at the adverts I laughed so hard I nearly split my sides

My friend looked puzzled and perplexed

An attitude that made me vexed

“What?” he asked “makes you laugh?” I could see that he was riled

“I laugh at what I want to.” I replied with pride

“Give me Eric and Ernie. I’m the one to decide.”

“But they’re old fashioned, they’re boring!” he winged and cried

He wasn’t laughing. “They’re not hip!”

I decided to split my sides then I split his lip.

So how the hell are we here?

Caught in the sterile confines of a silly jesters stale mate

You see our leaders are grey men and blandness is our fate

Need to grab some excitement before it gets too late

Grey people for grey times, at least Thatcher had some balls

Two more than Major’s cabinet and their “Back To Basics” calls

Where’s the colour? Where’s the passion?

Not just a one second wonder as a radical fashion

Go cut a calf in half and call it an art

As much creative capabilities as Kellogg’s cardboard Pop-tart

Pompous little posers all out on the take

Multi-mega dollars, just art for art sake

In times of recession integrity faces the chop

In the sea of banality the crap floats to the top.

And the comedian smiles and milks the applause

Non-hero worship he’s forgotten the cause

And the audience stands and shouts, “encore!” and “mores!”

Not tonight though, it’s not in the contract clause

And he’s laughing all the way, all the way to the bank

Because the joke is on us; we’re the ones to thank.

Ha bloody ha.

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