the casting list for the film of your life story

mum – dame helen mirren
dad – chevy chase
you as a boy – flat eric
your best friend then – pingu
the vicar – shane richie
your old lolliop lady – scary spice
your old school bully – a scarecrow nicked from the fields
uncle graham – jackie chan
auntie edith – eddie izzard
your old woodwork teacher – sting ( singer or wrestler )
your driving instructor – kermit the frog
your second-cousin’s neighbour – mister t
the ombudsman’s secretary – nigella lawson
the king of ruritania – ainsley harriot
the duchess of xanadu – kylie minogue
your frisbee-golf coach – the honey monster
your arch-nemesis – adam woodyatt
the archbishop of canterbury – lulu
doctor harold shipman – twat hancock
your electroshock therapist – ozzy osbourne
alan titchmarsh – brief cameo ( in a dream sequence )
your beautiful wife – a blow-up crash-test dummy
the voice of your hamster, clarence – ian mcshane
you grown up – the ghost of roger moore






seven more definitions of a poetry

~

a gravy train

without the gravy

or the train

~

a lost b-side

that even the drummer’s

forgotten about

~

a scribbled sneeze

a snotty breeze

of bless you

~

the life & times

of a true gobshite

the musical – on ice

~

a sausage role

not double ell

but oh-ell-eeh

~

the reason why

the dragonfly

breathes fire

~

or a turd of words

that we plop online

after logging on

one man band split

after the spanners of

      the backstage brawl

over groupies, hygiene

      royalty payments

& who should sit where

      on the coach / bus

the one man band

      broke apart – split up

his left arm’s in rehab

      frozen turkey cold

getting off the calpol

      the benylin & tizer

climbing spinning walls

      somewhere in antartica

his chest is at rest

      in a green death cult

his right arm’s gone solo

      & gospel-techno-metal

it slagged off all the others

      in the n.m.e

his arse is soiled & foiled again

      his legs have formed a duo

they’re working on new material

      – acid skiffle beats

his nob still plays the bongos

      & tours with harry styles

his chin is writing a novel

      & still keeps in touch with his tongue

both his cauliflower ears

      – are now a serving mayor

      left in daventry

plus the right in aberdare

his belly button’s

      on reality t.v

big ballroom dancing

      in the jungle kitchen

in a recent press release

      his head just said

“good riddance”

also’s uncle

seventeen lapwings

candlemas cake tins

eighteen greylags

mister kipling’s caves

mister kipling’s caves

inside spongy earth

spongiform tuesday

telepathic pangolin

telepathic pangolin

mung bean in between

bleak cheese chatterings

shotgun michaelmas

shotgun michaelmas

colonel mustard’s gas

measles, myself &

madrigal matchsticks

madrigal matchsticks

frisbees in breezes

lemon thyme travel

herbal garden imp

herbal garden imp

ninety nine kings

forty four cormorants

seventeen lapwings

the old & the new

hot is the new cold

quiet is the new loud

gay is the new straight

sweet is the new sour

blokes are the new birds

low is the new high

far is the new near

here is the new there

apple is the new pear

where is the new when

what is the new how

war is the new peace

died suddenly

is the new expected

dark is the new light

lark is the new owl

science is the new god

normalzzz is the new odd

fingers are the new toes

toads are the new frogs

cats are the new dogs

fat is the new thin

king is the new queen

float is the new flight

old is the new new

open is the new shut

gnu is the new impala

poets are the new cool

shite is the new good

but m.a.ps are still nonces

an open letter to a martian penfriend

dear green keith

the mayor of mid-cydonia

where the air is ares

on the ruddy red planet

i hope you fixed that leak

in your pyramid loft

& christmas went okay

( it’s just as shit on earth )

the weather here is wet

which suits the duck in me

– is it sunny there

in your neck of the solar-wood?

how’s your ten-headed

foxhound called portia?

do you still garden?

are you on social media?

or should we dredge the canals?

have you moved to the moon?

it’s been six million years

so please reply quite soon

the long & winding rhododendron

still skylarking

as the cat is barking

      squirms in y’ journals

      mustard cress & colonels

guess the fuckin’ rest then

shaving in the dark

swimming in the depths with

a kraken & a shark

crocus pocus

focus in the locus

      spring is on a mattress

       with a famous actress

talking to a bishop

wish upon a well

annals, ants ‘n’ flannels

as the badgers yell

sweet pea shooting

as y’ nan is looting

      morrisons & budgens

      that’ll make the cudgeons

put y’ fuckin’ boot down

cloud a summer day

walk with thee beside me

& squawk beneath the grey

prime twats strike again

riots when they form

them of masks & clot-shot jabs

      those that hoarded bog roll

      like a frightened squirrel

them that soiled their pants

& never saw their nan

      fighting over cans

      of fizzy snake oil

see the pillocks pile on

humping yet clothed

      like a bored bullock

      on a muggy august morn’

lost of all purpose

like a beached porpoise

      kicking off in aldi

      whislt i hum vivaldi

look at those battle-bot

normalzzz go

      it’s the freakiest

      show ( oh-oh )

& cumming fucking soon

to your local shop

      what a load of bollocks – it’s

      – twats & rip-off pop

( author notes )

my poetry prediction for 2023

is that simon armitage

will become alan titchmarsh

& alan titchmarsh will become

simon armitage

those two have been merging for years

ever since simon got the laureate gig

but they will become one

& the same

by this time next year

( stop making up your own jokes )

mike hunt is hairy

( back, arse & palms )

mike hunt is fishy

( fly & sometimes magnet )

mike hunt is tight

( there’s cobwebs in his wallet )

mike hunt is massive

( he’s seven foot two )

mike hunt is tiny

( compared to a blue whale )

mike hunt is yeasty

( he’s a baker by trade )

mike hunt is smelly

( normally lynx africa )

mike hunt is shaven

( but only on his face )

mike hunt is weepy

( but still dices onions )

mike hunt is wet

( from walking in the rain )

mike hunt is lovely

( he’s never seen on a tuesday )

mike hunt prefers

to be known as a michael