CAMP RELUCTANCE

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don't mention the war

only the elephants in the news

they’re politely ignored by this G

7 while Japan their neighbour scores

tickets for free

Russian mammoths couldn’t crash them gates

Asian quadrupeds from Singapore

to the Arctic Circle tigers all

African states

jumbo nations makes no odds you’re pink

white & circus trained or just forget

it’s the colour of your money nods

winks to a deaf

horse the ring of course is televised

nothing Trojan mind the token Greeks

here with buckets & spades for a week

at the seaside

party games some grub & jungle juice

donkey rides across the sands at low

tide just hope no cockle diggers show

up on the loose

Greenswill

Lex von Greenswill got the job of bag

man at Adolf’s favourite skulking hole

where on Tuesday nights he’d leave the owl

feller his pile

when the conflict ended no one gave

Lex his marching orders on he went

serving up illicit scratch my green

backs as before

US forces Russian submarine

crews the Royal Horse Artillery

OTAN plus United Nations friends

gendarmes du monde

all the gang & then some dipped their snouts

where the Führer got his ya-yas out

down the banks you’d think their greasy plot

rumbled & yet

here we go again the crooked bonds

private jets & dodgy msgs

next up Doctor Goebbels recommends

Covid 19

Camp Reluctance

information please

where the hell we coming from

give it to me straight

be it horse’s mouth

other end or in between

who we talking of

as the prodigals

asked before their parents’ wake

what’s the bottom line

why’s the music gone

someone turn my channel back

on for pity’s sake

this is how it starts

people asking questions like

me the only one

which will do for now

campsite’s turning into view

whose owl bunk is mine

not to miss!

Johno's Fifth Column

 

The Two Johns

Johno’s Fifth Column #1

Just a note to say I shan’t be home for tea, got some govt. do on. The day job, you know. Dreadful business this earning a living. But bread & butter must be realised.

So, feed the cat, eh, and iron my best socks? Just kidding. But did you know lots of fellers here at the top don’t wear ’em no more! Frightful habit this bare feet in brogues, could be a Fenian thing that’s caught on. I suspect accounts for half the odd smells you get under these summit tables.

The GF, Whatshername, says we’re bringing the tiddler – got a name, too, I suppose – though which exactly I’d be pushed to say. You know me, always get it in the end. But fuss not if I have to slope off early. And there might be a helicopter, so better not leave the washing out. There, I don’t forget everything, do I? But I think I lost another bicycle chain down the back of the sofa.

Johno’s Fifth Column #2

The GF found another tiddler! Can’t say I’m too surprised, we did get rather wrecked that night. They say expensive wine doesn’t give much of a headache but think of the school fees.

Trouble with the world today is it’s all politics. I’m giving it up. Quitting has never been my forte but I believe I’m going to put my foot down on this one. The German ambassador tried to sell us a fake Picasso. I said, that’s looted art. But he insisted it was a genuine forgery and would go perfectly in the hall opposite the photo of us on donkeys at Lampedusa. I said we’ve never even been there. Phooey!

So from now on I’m not voting. It’s never really agreed with me anyway, despite my love for all things Greek. Or else we should go back to scratching names on pottery sherds. That’s much more civilised and a good use for broken plates, as I said to the GF. Now that was a mistake. I’m not saying she’s clumsy, far from it.

Johno’s Fifth Column #3

The GF has named the day. Waiting till the servants all had their jabs, lots of foreign chappies, see. Well I said you’re the one who’s taking the chance, I ain’t got much to give still forking out on the old predecessors. But she’s a spunky gal Whatshername, as I think I’ve said before. It’s all becoming a bit of a blore, life passing in front of your eyes, I wonder if Winston saw it that way. He did have his Connie, though, steak & kidney pudding steamed in a bowl. Lovely grub, but I prefer little rhubarb tarts swimming in crème brulée. Pay for themselves in the long run.

I’m signing off, sorry Love, if you thought this would go on indef. I’ve kept some columns on for donkeys’ ears I know but the money’s only chicken feed even if it’s regular. Three book deals are lining up and then there’s Reality TV which pays you by the episode. Just need a smidgeon more celebrity. I made a big mistake giving up my US citizenship, big job going over there when old Jed is dead. Figuratively speaking. Tootle pip and all that jiz. Invite’s in the post.

Johno’s Fifth Column #4

Well I never. Talk about shotguns at dawn. You gorra believe me. Honest to God. I will go to the foot of our stairs, and don’t spare the Stannah, James. I thought I’d seen it all. Now I’ve really had my blooming lot. Aghast and bleary, the festival season in glorious bacchanalia, malgré tout!

The official wedding’s still on, by the bye. The do next summer will be a full, no-holds barred registry office affair with duelling bridesmaids, hoarse guards of honour, forty-nine gun salute and Whatshername will be given away by the Queen’s brother. If we can get the paperwork sorted, Cummings’ beheading will be celebrated the night before, and the highlight of the reception will be Public Image going fifteen rounds with UB40. The White House is booked for the old honeymoon. Branston is lending Jed and his family an island or two while we’re in residence. Osborne (I don’t mean Sir Oswald) is picking up the tab, so there should be no fuss about that. Not that I’m thinking of bringing him back into power, but it lends a sense of continuity. Both Cameron and May have offered to cover while we’re away and I don’t see why not. Breakfast TV and all that jiz.

Looks like the column is still on too. Mark my words, I can’t believe a word I say.

Johno’s Fifth Column #5

I shall be home for tea. Scones, please, with all the trimmings (rhubarb jam). Bagged another tiddler by the seaside. Funny little things, I never could get used to their slimy little ways. You couldn’t do the honours, could you? Got a bit of a bone in me leg.

Wot No Colour?

sense & incense

free kick

use of farce condoned

free to air polemics they’re

British understand

scourges of the left

lawyers for the centrefold

so the story goes

just a moment now

Jesus got the vote way back

when Byzantium

whiskey bravo Yeats

would the thought police confess

look their eyes are crossed

yet a single crack

in the armour's never found

’cept the obvious

stick it where it hurts

up the costume bear of them

laugh like merry men

then your puff of smoke

pull a cracker read the joke

disa-bloody-pear

from our man on Mars

members of the dog

shit patrol are counted out

there’s another launch

now to sit & dunk

brandy snaps in endless teas

till their safe return

who’d’ve thought just five

ticks before that space would be

clogged with canine crap

Jed’s banana skins

tins of curried favours burnt

pastries treacle tarts

what the Earth rejects

planets moons & asteroids

just accept it’s wrong

time has come to act

join the Friends of Half a League

keep on looking men

count them back with cheese

straws & pints of black & tan

frothing at the jug

stair crazy

problem attic's no

cellar load of Martian spies

peering through the cracks

not that I care what

punctuates their sentences

serving time's the word

as I've done so go

screw yourselves in smelly socks

pinched from bottom drawers

or on prayer mats

christian names redacted no

what gets me is not

tryna blow their minds

but before too late reflect

on the attic prob

reverse Hubble shot

gender quake reveals

Earth left carbon neutron prints

cross Van Halen’s belt

just between ourselves

dumb as it may sound the snake’s

smoking midnight oil

moony folk believe

life began when Major Tom

turned his helmet in

such a pile of tosh

cracks the screens on Covid plots

satisfaction’s off

still it’s better than

listening while that other clap

trapper gets his wants

hey the black & white

Floyd are playing live tonight

Steely Dead The Dan

guess progressive rock

came to Minneapolis

better late than not

no sense!

return of the Jed

 

return of the Jed

he chain-smoked Camel cigarettes

and hammered nails in planks      - John Prine

never underestimate the right

shame those rebels had to fight but shucks

Lincoln won the war his battle cry

everyone sucks

pebbles when there’s nothing left to eat

better tasting than the bite of dust

grass is blue not green but fades to gray

everyone says

Scarlet had an awful pretty mouth

Mason Dixon never drew such lines

one thing they agreed on North & South

everyone lies

mould’ring in the grave eventually

makes you think what all the fuss is for

dueling mojos in uncivil war

everyone freeze

singing death’s a tricky learning curve

steers the living thru a stormy night

there to find their inner Jed & serve

everyone right

Sicilian attack

'nother question H

not how fair your baby’s but

if she’s fit to serve

bowling broke the mould

one more game like that the crown's

bust a royal flush

Hollywood’s your best

bet at Gotham cricket club

exiles roll the roast

Sunday headlines just

grab them like an Osbourne bites

chickens by the head

raise your standards St

Lawrence side then cross the pond

land in Donegal

march from Holyhead

hordes will join your colours straight

down Watling Street

should there be a bun

fight this end of Ponders End

call the Irish Scots

let the Windsors flee

France will take them on the mace

lose it in the Wash

Privy Councillors

grant the best apprenticeships

Alan Sugar style

call in Trump he’s got

time before the Jed has quit

loves to pimp & pomp

over there or here

everywhere you got it made

Oprah's song of praise

just one minor point

giving Rolf his extra leg

back that would be crass

glorious twelfth grouse

pipers worse for pints

drummers on their seventh shot

marching out of step

sure they’re not a patch

if all Ireland had to match

McNamara’s band

but the music fits

even drunken Oiks about

get away with it

Archilochus crowed

hoarse & coarse above the flutes

yet his din was sound

like a pound of gold

so these men in motley suits

do their neighbours proud

’prentice boys & free

masons Presbyterians

gents in bowler hats

Londonderry lads

token lassies but no kilts

Scottish Irish pure

British to the core

bulldog drumming as to war

whistling youths on stilts

he back

trailing bankrupt congressmen here comes

your abstaining president the cast

former wrestling champions make-up girls

fixers in tights

Dixie Nix from Alimony’s up

Pierce Dears of the jet ski cops

all the cast & crew of Raths & Prince

Andrew for laughs

not to mention Pandemonium

Lil who rumour says removed his heart

swopped it for some rocks she smoked him hard

Candy the Cook

tho his operation’s kinda slim

in the Intromission songs were cut

like an Irish wake without the drink

nothing gets lost

don’t believe this pension crap he’s fit

has a round of golf for breakfast grits

ham with brownies maple sauce & blues

no Quaaludes

Jed was back in diapers by his age

strong as possum cooked in Granny’s boots

striking gold left right & centre fold

long as a shlong

well I guess that’s it for now but hills

bills next time you folks be passing thru

mind you wear clean petticoats & call

in on us now

#dontpardonme!

Bank to Mandalay Omnibus

 states worse than Myanmar

what's the frigging point

eh you’re gonna croak one fine

day the sun will out

skylarks do their last

song for you the war is oh

stick your dexters up

Stalin’s personal

Waterloo is all that’s left

mate so say your peace

shuffle off in style

or get down & pray makes no

difference privileged

infamous a plain

nobody your corpse bereft

lies in state or skip

nothing will exist

just a name on googleplex

thin as woven air

in & out of time

stirring up a hurricane

then a lovely calm

tell you what comes next

since the afterlife has popped

toss a loaded dice

mend your selfish ways

let the people vote for once

and accept their choice

join The President

play some golf he must be great

company these days

*

the discovery of swimming

hold this proof to be impertinent

if Pythagoras invented hand

flippers frankly Benjamin was well

out of his depth

tide had turned with King Canute’s decree

ringing in our ears humankind spilled

overboard a thousand galleons

sunk without trace

swell so fat the cargoes lost their feet

murky whirlpools sharks all kindsa toe

hungry fish & storm about to break

how did it go

touching bottom rock & sand no grass

grew tectonic plates kept continents

on the move survivors had to shoal

tiddlers hold fast

dolphins seals it’s down to us now surf’s

breaking close to shore hey mind that reef

nose their bodies out & count those still

able to breathe

*

no sympathy please

shall we call it quits

now the past & I go back

sixty years & more

face the awful facts

Judgement Day was holding back

to upset my end

notwithstanding nights

woken by embarrassing

memories we share

me myself & I

call us what you will we’ve played

many roles till now

clown & clot you’ve got

darker things put by to rot

down the rabbit hole

in a former life

I was Adolf’s teenage bum

chum & confidante

I unplugged the dyke

flooding Haalem’s market square

on a dare & joke

it was me who spoke

out against democracy

whispered coup d’état

then I murdered truth

raised the shirts of innocent

homosexuals

were my crimes avenged

did they string me up & watch

while I paid the price

no so get them out

let the consequences spice

up these shameful lines

no one will believe

I did all that stuff their sleeves

billowing with laughs

so there’s nowt to lose

nothing on the table but

cards I show my heart

hardly more than speech

acts a madman’s careless talk

victims only ghosts

let me off with stern

warnings plus a three-book deal

empathy at last

Not Sir Bloomin' Likely!