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1. |
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Yummy yumm yum
In my tummy, tum, tum
Chip butty with grated cheese melted on top
All gooey and stringy, soft and sticky my chip butty
Yummy, yum,yum*
Dipping sauces or put no top
My chip butty can have curry sauce,
but not too hot to give it a kick on top
Dripping, squelching† through my fingers
My chip butty needs tomato sauce and mayo mixed together, Dip, dip, dip
Drip, drip, drip, through my fingertips
My Chip Butty,
Yummy, yum, yum in my tummy, tum, tum
*In the printed version of this poem, there is no space between the comma and "yum", I'm assuming this was deliberate by Anne Thompson of Mickleover, in an attempt to convey her desire, nay, her NEED for her chip butty. She can barely control herself and cannot pause for thought between outbursts of "yum"
†Yeah, she went there.
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2. |
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With McDonalds hamburgers and chips now off the menu,
The fish shop now is their new venue,
The pigeons now have a change of diet,
Fish and chips left overs appears to keep them quiet,
Fast food is without doubt an unhealthy diet*,
Mothers' easy way out and stops the children running riot.
In my day a free school dinner was my meal of the day†,
Yes nourishing and fulfilling I have to say,,
We were more thankful four our free dinner,
Back in those days it truly was a winner,
In my childhood days our society were mostly lean,
Of a balanced diet we could only dream
*Yes, yes George McLanders DID just rhyme diet, quiet and diet again... wait til the next line...
†Yes, yes George McLanders DID just do a middle of the line rhyme, and rhymed "day" with "day". Such vision(!)
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3. |
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OH Benwell, oh Benwell what have they done to you?
Now a foreign place to the one in my youth I knew,
The streets I once played in now changed and some gone
Oh Benwelll, what have the planners done?
Oh Benwell, Oh Benwell, in my heart you have stayed
and when I see you now I feel so betrayed,
My memories of you are ones of joy
of seventy years ago when I was but a boy;
No one will care for my thoughts on what I see
For the Benwelll of my youth is now,
well and truly, in the bin of history.
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4. |
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Her Majesty has delivered her 65th Queen's Speech
Our Queen travelled to the Palace of Westminster in the Diamond Jubilee State Coach
Our Sovereign wore a beautiful red velvet cloak for her speech
The Household Cavalry escorted the Queen on her journey
The gorgeous heavily jewelled, purple crown, rarely seen was carried so carefully by the Marquis of Chholmondeley* on a beautiful velvet cushion this year
The cap of maintenance given by the Pope to our Queen & the Sword of State were displayed in the royal gallery
The Procession of State was full o the pop and pageantry we are renowned and admired for
After Her Majesty's speech she spoke to those who had taken part smiling and thanking them†
*Yep, that is how it's pronounced. Trust me, it looks fancy but he's called fucking Chumlee
†THIS IS ACTUALLY HOW THE "POEM" ENDS!! And I am sure as shit using scare quotes around the word poem there, despite the paper who published this assuring us it is one, this is more like a collection of statements ending in an unsatisfying way. Fuck me this is so crap it hurts.
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5. |
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"We met and married a long time ago. We worked long hours when wages were low. No telly, no bath, for times were hard. Just a cold water tap and a walk in the yard.
"No holidays abroad, no carpets on floors, We'd coal on the fire and didn't lock doors. Our children arrived ( no Pill in those days). We brought them up without any state aid.
"They were safe going out to play in the park. And old folk could go for a walk in the dark. No Valium, drugs and no LSD. We cured most of our ill with a good cup of tea.
"No vandals, no muggings (not much to rob). We felt we were rich with a couple of bob. People seemed happier in those far off days. Kinder and caring in so many ways.
"Milkmen and paperboys would whistle and sing. A night at the pictures was quite a mad fling. We got our share of troubles and strife. But we had to face it - the Pattern of Life".
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6. |
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One Of The Lucky
I Guess To Find
A Delivery Slot
On-Line
Order Quickly
It Will Be Fine
A Tub OF Butter
Dare I Ask
For A Bottle Of Wine?
Not Essential...
Depending On Your Mind
Dog Biscuits, Cat Food
Not Much Variety
For One's Daily Mood
No Beans Rice Or Pasta
To Dine
But Arrived On Time
Not Bad
We Have Milk, Bread
At Least Some Food
Fill In Satisfaction Survey
Shall We Tick Nine?
I Suppose
To Reveal Clues
Next One... Toiletries
All Seem To Have Disappeared
No Hand-Wash Soap, Shampoo
Not Even Bleach
Or Rolls For The Loo
Sanitary Protection
We Shouldn't Mention
Just One Small Toothpaste
Will Have To Do
Box Arrives...
Hygienics Torn Open
Don't Worry
I Haven't Named You
But Still No Excuse
These Are Our Essentials
Personal Items Escaping
Thankfully Not All Missing
I Know We Shouldn't Complain
In Covid-19 Such A Weird Day
And Age.*
*Uh huh, she really did Capitalise Each And Every Word Like A Serial Killer Writing In Their Diary.
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7. |
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Sitting upon the toilet, with my irritable bowel,
Considering my existence, as my intestines growl,
My stomach is distended, because I am filled with gas,
And I am, stuck here, waiting, for this agony to pass.
Will I be here for hours? Well that would be just my luck,
A lengthy wait is all I need. I should have brought a book.
I should have brought a library, the often times I’m here,
Enhance my education, whilst I’m stuck upon my rear.
But what if I am needed, whilst I’m sitting on the throne,
For thought this need is urgent, it wouldn’t be right to phone,
I’ll just have to stay off grid, like I’m stuck in solitary,
For I’m endlessly imprisoned, in this damned lavatory*.
Will I be constipated? Or will I get diarrhoea?
Will I know when I have finished?
This is my nagging fear.
To decide when I should stand up, is something I must guess,
But an ill-timed rise to action, will cause a dreadful mess.
I could, perhaps, just risk it, and rapidly take my leave,
But I will get in trouble, if my guess I misconceive,
So I’m reigned to sit here, whatever this day will bring,
With my buttocks, ever branded, by this cursed toilet ring.
*I’d probably think it needlessly harsh recording a crap poem (pun NOT intended) about IBS, but he deserves it for trying to force lavatory to rhyme with solitary. You can make them rhyme, but then the poem doesn’t fucking scan properly. FFS
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8. |
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Some men love only once
And their happiness is stolen
By fate, or death, or both
But I have loved a dozen times,
In hotels, in cars,
In Sadler Gate bars
And to have loved so oten
(Sometimes even returned to me)
Is a life I would exchange with nobody
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9. |
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Dirty mucky face nappy,
spreading its [sic] germs
on to you and me.
Dirty mucky face nappy,
doing more harm
than we can see.
The scientists said No, No, No,
Boris once said the same.
Seems like the world we knew
has gone madly insane.
Dirty mucky face nappy,
wear it on the transport
and wear it in the shop.
Dirty mucky face nappy,
was that a grunt or snort
suck another cough drop.
I hear those shouts of dismay,
it's all for our own good
We must and will obey,
without question we should.
Dirty mucky face nappy,
wear one if you're happy.
But please d o not ask me,
I just want to stay free.
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10. |
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released April 20, 2020