Tuesday, 3 February 2026

Up the Garden Path


with Porky & Klone


Advertisement:

 

SILLY NAMES ON SALE

Wolfgang Aloysius Pfaertkettle

Craven T Forespoke

Beatrix Noseboff

Aard Vrnaard

Snorky the Poodge

Clinton S Cardswipe

W W Wishcake

 

Bidding starts at a hundred Bitcoin each. Winners get Authorised Certificate of Ownership plus 10% of proceeds goes to the Board of Piss Off.


click to buy



bard of piss talks

 

elevating Sir

Jeffrey Epstein Lord

posthumous award

ain’t it absurd

 

shucks the geezer had

royal houses licked

servants Maxwell picked

cut him a tad

 

heaven knows the sex

crimes they faced but died

long before the lies

surfaced on X

 

evidence of guilt

barely graced their lips

on dictatorships

empires were built

 

excavate their bones

relics to revere

bung the guy a peer

age of the clones

 

 

 

these lies are true II

 

nineteen thirty-eight

history books shall prove

Hitler was removed

dude sealed his fate

 

when the world was faced

nineteen sixty-nine

with a heinous crime

being well placed

 

saved the Rolling Stones

as they came on stage

from a shooter’s rage

sent on the drones

 

in the year of dick

taser Epstein’s tricks

nineteen ninety-six

dude had him sicked

 

best of all same guy

in that fateful year

took one in the eye ear

truth just won’t die

 

 

 

merry-go-round

 

if we’re honest love is false

having people live on lies

loitering as passion dies

stuck on a waltz

 

have the author drill a new

book of what to say & do

who to ditch or tootle to

hang on a clue

 

time they asked was it a whore

feeding off an empty drive

keeping villagers alive

knocking on doors

 

screw the romance out of sex

the transactional kiss good

riddance to its shall & should

wait for the next

 

bus but maybe save on fares

senior citizens unfazed

catalogued by fantasies

musing on chairs

 

*

 

love is one long song

clever words & tune

worming through the moon

light on a pond

 

trip in a balloon

safety harness on

smooth as silicon

no parachute

 

broken biscuit tin

full of Christmas pud

extra helping should

do your head in

 

love is better glued

on the sides of trucks

advertising hook’s

babes in the mood

 

buried down the park

underneath a tree

aid to memory

light in the dark

 

*

 

hell it’s no

just a mo

in your ear

dear

 

sell by date

hand of fate

time we spilt

milk

 

sound of words

sense absurd

fond of cheese

Jeez

 

tie the knot

get the lot

on a plate

Kate

 

come & go

straight or queer

seeing here

blow

 

 

 

U-Crane

 

Congress Gaza Venezuela God

who they gonna skyjack next them black

holes Iran Afganistan Iraq

building a squad

 

call them greatest architect of all

Newton Heisenberg & Einstein cloned

Marie Curie Stopes on speakerphone

Pink Floyd on Wall

 

Street they’ll say it one more time or ten

shoot the Milky Way belongs to us

Proxima Centauri’s claim is pus

who’s got the men

 

Adolf Joe or Genghis Julius

Satan none of which American

only bloke round here to get things done

hoots on the bus

 

deconstruction plant for sale or lease

get in while they’re hot now place your bets

human race or self drive 3D chess

lifting for peace

 

 

 

untitled draft


don't worry they’s nothing but Americanisms

 

& them a stand-out politician whose improv routines popular for their wooden repetitiveness spends hours at the mirror literally hurling brown tuppences at their audience in the manner of a padishah disbursing golden coin & therefore do we offer this irreverent verse

 

passions torment then

torrent back as joys

smoking with the boys

do it again

 

infantile regrets

get a vengeful twist

lance them like a cyst

guard dogs for pets

 

bugger me I shan’t

let these feelings go

someone ought to know

don’t say you can’t

 

tell a tout from Top

Cat in jury doubt

who am I to out

think like a cop

 

chocolate money fake

scrip the name of peace

wonders sure will cease

grift on a take

 

 

 

fragment

 

what you see & who you get

ain’t the same as how you bet

you can tell them by their eyes

piles in the skies

 

 

 

nature reverse

 

herds of tame wildebeest graze the virgin plains of New Antarctica

a commited schizophrenic versus a pair of conjoined arm wrestlers for president

penguins in plastic suits cross the frozen crusts of gas giant moons

glib vegans beat anthropomorphic vegetarians senseless with selfie sticks

an albino hippopotamus appears in the room of an elephant with diarrhea

refugees from Mars sign on as unemployed former astronauts

underground golf clubs nudist camps & sewage farms held on alternate Sundays in March

but if the children of the workers are still bored call Henry Ford

these & other lines are all you get after Don & Elon’s delinquent comedy set

 

 

 

hometown myth

 

pardon me there

have to observe

temporary

reasons to swear

 

all of us here

lovely my dear

don’t even care

everything’s queer

 

numbers of folk

working like dope

just to survive

see how it poke

 

flexible lies

dormant the files

back of their smiles

share your unease

 

here’s what to hope

four to one cope

odds on we’ll mope

given the mop

 

 

 

dim view

 

Venus Earth & Mars are no

three-ringed circus act although

orbiting or what they go

on with the show

 

outer planets take the view

all their fuss is mainly due

to an over heated blue

shift in the glue

 

put another way they don’t

give a monkey’s cos it won’t

make no difference simply note

some rocks will float

 

as for Pluto who knows how

such a lump can take their bow

planetoids just ain’t allowed

audience cowed

 

stupid solar system bored

asteroids may not afford

ticket prices having soared

comets outlawed

 

 

 

honest

 

isn't America great

making work for blokes like me

dumb-arsed circus runaways

fish in the sea

 

jokes aside you know my name

silver dollar all my own

Bumph’s the one you’re betting on

talking the game

 

folks it’s what the market wants

wearing out your daddy’s pants

what’s inside them hornets ants

taking no chance

 

lo-down ho-down Würlitzer

seven rides a penny Ma’am

get your curlies straightener

it’s an exam

 

contrast me with anyone

officer I’m willing take

down my every word I make

no more’n I fake

 

 

 

Police Canteen S4E17

 

cos there’s been a poisoning

quarantine the force

call Inspector Horsemeat in

 

tho the gossip’s getting worse

larks have gotta sing

time to blow the coffee curse

 

liver bacon sausage rolls

suspect frying bread

beans on toast with garden gnomes

 

fishing at the river’s end

flounders in the zone

dealing with the plateful dead

 

let the owl informants in

now on Nitflox One

indigestibles begin


Not Real Woods Again!


Friday, 2 January 2026

GLOVES ARE COMING OFF

Abdul Jnr does Balmoral

Jury is out?

If we took twelve persons good, true and from a broad range of backgrounds who just happened – by their lingo, culture and commitment – to be a temporary community, then paraded the so-called truth before them, and waited while they deliberated (taking what expert and esoteric information was required into account) until they had deliberated… where would we be? Cos the truth is that fleeting thing, which applied to one set of circumstances will inevitably produce quite another verdict when applied to another. Nevertheless, as the archbishop said to the wanton chile, truth is all we got to go on. Ditch the truth, and the rest is white lies, dirty lies and the adulterated facts’n’figs of their opinion.

 

 

 

childsplay

 

easy not to say

hard to leave unsaid

words are grave as stones

spaces undead

 

cut between the lines

mix & rearrange

sentences such strange

blending of wines

 

sounds intoxified

better check that one

no just let it glide

meaning’s a con

 

what’s the art of noise

like philosophers

flock of homing birds

stuck for a choice

 

human life you dig

down the studio

in its judge’s wig

just an owl role

 

 

 

‘twas Christmas Day in the Workhouse..

…and Joseph was pregnant with a star crossed heart , which I don’t mind telling is no laughing matter. Playing with fire, the very thought crosses so many boundaries it’s simply not cricket. Go&Wash your brain out with milk & alcohol. And another thing, he’d woken up that balmy morning to find himself in a different universe. Somehow he had slipped intact through a Black Hole, defying not just the Laws of Gravity/Physics but the Jaws of Heaven/Hell. Forget the barn load of angels, shepherds, kings and animals, because anyroad, what really matters is not where you are so much as what you're going through. “It’s a stage!” - as the artist said to Mrs Worthington. “Wash your daughter’s feet in soda water, it’ll wear off.” Then you’ll be faced with a choice. Actually, we’re always faced with one, but on such a barmy morn as this, the starkness of it all strikes him as dumb. Keep your hair on, Joe!

NOT YET!


Saturday, 29 November 2025

up the low down

Previews from the next (& last) chapbook 12, "dropping the plot"...

 

The Way of All Fish

When we the British, this bastard race, rose from the waves sporting the very epitome of European Science, Art & Culture… who could tell the empire thus created would be vanquished in the twinkling of an eye? There were those who dreamt of a thousand-year Byzantine saga with successive dynasties taking the helm of the great oversized ship. Then came those whose purpose, more honourable perhaps but further screwed up, who at heart were just square-headed Christian Soldiers. And then along came least, though surely not last, called the English Speaking Peoples (WS Churchill) and whose aim was no less than world domination - while at every point prepared to drop the name United Kingdom, United States, United Nations even.




on Lady Godiva


one ungodly hour

the aforesaid dame

fresh from slumber came

out from her bower

 

müezzins & birds

musing on the great

mindlessness of state

savoured these words

 

saddle me an ass

that I might proceed

not on warlike steed

careless of class

 

through the sleepy town

with the curtains drawn

to to greet the dawn

under a gown

 

not of silk but sack

cloth though otherwise

bare to peeping eyes

forward & back

 

*

 

thus the married nun

bride to Jessie Christ

staged her famous heist

pigtails undone

 

from her husband’s pride

she extracted tax

breaks for peasants’ backs

cost of her ride

 

goodknows what he

who’d proposed the stunt

wagering it blunt

thought of her fee

 

she’d been tampered with

like a fairy queen

dryad or obscene

urbanised myth

 

but pornographers

can’t contain her soul

sex was not her goal

justice her prayers

 

*

 

now as pageant dressed

once a year in light

leotard & tight

serfs are impressed

 

feminists remain

challenged by her nude

progress call it rude

sex on the brain

 

yet the ride goes on

sponsored year by year

even cast as queer

heckled by one

 

harmless skin parade

hardly that the church

rolling with a lurch

comes to its aid

 

virgin birth they say

underneath that skein

gentlefolk refrain

almost to pray




unpopulist lines

 

queer Starmer’s pitch

just as Bo was pipped

Corbyn would of whipped

Ritchie Wotshisbitch




sacrificial clown

 

close one eye to the treatment of cows

burning gas like there’s no end of fuse

tolerate other folks’ racist views

these are the nows

 

then their finest hour world at war

when the fascists had surrounded them

choking back a rising tide of phlegm

stuck to the core

 

values never let the bullies win

hang ’em with the rope they’ve always spun

meaning let the bastards have their fun

then do them in

 

this appeasement Trump has brokered’s no

deal it’s pure & simple cowardice

faced with blatant autocrats he’s nice

bowing that low

 

Putin laughing out of bloody hand

scarcely crediting this Yankee knave’s

attitude to the land of the brave

truth bites the sand




the mark of Epstein

 

royalty transcends

loyalty to friends

Chomsky make amends

Epstein descends

 

public life requires

higher moral fibres

talking sick desires

buzzing the wires

 

secrecy’s not yours

like revolving doors

cleaners do the chores

careful of paws

 

teenage prostitutes

nobody disputes

are forbidden fruits

leave them to brutes

 

let dictatorships

take immoral trips

punters part with tips

serfs pay with lips


Not on my Wodge!