When I’m depressed, I feel like:
A turd
A herd of elephants
A fat man with no pants
A broken croissant
 
It makes me spend money on things I don’t need
Like a lampshade, two left shoes and a kilo of bird seed
 
It stops me getting out the door
And makes me unsure about everything
It makes me feel like a half drunk drink
Like a fart that lingers
Like abu hamzas fingers
 
It makes me angry, incapabale
Less stable than a 2-wheeled tricycle
It makes me get high then regret it
It gives me the energy of a dead netball team
And the teetotal tendencies of George Best…
Yes that’s some things I feel like
When I’m depressed.

Baby…
I’ll be half good at a sport
That I don’t do any more
I’ll half heartedly put up the shelf
Or paint the kitchen door
I’ll be your range, your median your mean
Baby I’ll be average if you let me.
 
Baby…
I’ll get a haircut that slightly suits my head
I’ll last just over 3 minutes in bed
I’ll find a hobby that’s a bit boring
Like stamp collecting
Or fully clothed life drawing
I’ll half read every murder mystery story
Baby I’ll be average if you let me.
 
 
 
I’ll make idle conversations with your friend
I’ll watch action films almost to the end
I’ll buy beige trousers from new look and top man
I’ll be more Clark Kent than Superman
If I was an airline I’d be budget
If I was a bird I’d be a budgie
Baby I’ll be average if you let me.
 
I’ll go to bed at a reasonable time
After partying half-heartedly,
Half into the night
Yes, just imagine our life!
I’ll do everything to earn your romance,
Everything I can that’s average
I’ll wear sensible socks almost up to my ankles
And I’ll get a job where I’m not quite the manager.
I’ll be your range, your median your mean
​Baby I’ll be average if you let me.

It's capitalism in the chocolate Aisle
Freddo is Deddo they wiped off his smile
They say it's inflation, infecting the nation
Can you see my frustration?
Can you understand me?
​When a Freddo costs 40p

The thing is...
They've got a good selection of paperclips but they support UKIP
Their gazebos you can't miss 'em but they still believe in the imperial system.

If i go there will be trouble - But if i stay there will be bubble wrap (and other crap)

They love Nigel Farage (I hate him) but they've got cheap laminators
They pay their workers minimum wage - But it's 2 for 1 on all their board games!

If anyone can help me, I wish i could know:
Should I Stay... Or should i Trago?

His music in one room,
Hers in another
Like some crappy club populated
By Teenage Mothers...
And I ask myself this:
Does Domestic Bliss Exist?

An update of Edward Gorey's 'Gashleycrumb Tinies'

A is for Adam whose seatbelt was damagedB is for Billy, savaged by Badgers
C is for Carlos, covered in hives
D is for Dora who just woke up and died
E is for Eric, stuck in a door
F is for Fred falling from the 4th floor
G is for Gareth, trapped in a garage
H is for Harry, hassled by hammers
I is for Ida, trapped in the ice
J is for Jemma, overcome by headlice
K is for Kevin whose head it was severed
And L is for Larry, skinned for his leather
M is for Michael who licked a live pylon
And N is for Norman, engulfed by a python.
O is for Oliver made love to the toaster
P is for Peter, Herb coated and roasted
Q is for Quentin, asleep on the road
R is for Ruby - in the grass she got mowed.
S is for Stacey who fell off a pier
T is for Timmy, trampled by deer
U is for Ursula who choked on a curtain
And V is for Violet whose murder was certain.
W is for Wallace who just slowly rusted
X is for Xavier – spontaneous combustion!
Y is for Yuri, choked on his own ear
And Z is for Zena who died right here.

Hello. I’m Tom and I used to have talent – until one man came along and had it.
I love to tell a story but I wish I didn’t have ta
Tell the one about the day when I went on X Factor…
There I was on the stage, the audience listening
Ant and Dec weren’t there (they were snogging in the wings)
Before I’d even started, the dreaded voice it came – trousers right up to the nipples he seemed to know my name:
“HOW DARE YOU COME AND PLAY MY GAME” He roared “YOU’RE NOT HOT ENOUGH TO WIN OR UGLY ENOUGH TO ENTERTAIN”
Apoplectic and insane from years in the music industry, he continued his tirade of misery: “YOU STAND HERE BEFORE ME WITH ACTUAL SKILL? YOU’LL REGRET THE DAY YOU’D EVER BEEN BORNED”
 “Simon, I don’t tink that’s a word” Says Louis Walsh.
“SHUT YOUR IRISH FACE!” Came the reply. Then Sharon looked shocked as he climbed on stage and pissed right in my eye.
I walked off ashamed from the jeering crowd – they say hell is other people: It’s not, it’s Simon Cowell.

Here's an excerpt from a longer poem i'm writing. It tells the story of 2 men growing up in the same place, with vastly different backgrounds and consequences - one's middle class and ends up homeless, the other is from a more modest background and ends up rich. It's inspired in part by Kate Tempest's Brand New Ancients but also from my own and others' experience. The name Tom is chosen because it's simple - the character is not me. Still a lot more to write! ​

"Tom spends sunny days by the burnt out see saw, no cash in his pocket but all the friends he could ask for. Tony doesn’t struggle, a wallet full of money but not as many mates to knock at the door. So some similarities – both 16, born on the edge of a millennium, both got a bit of heaven and hell in them. Tony’s happy with his lot, puts in just enough to get by, but Tom cuts corners - he’s street smart and sly. He knows he’s got nothing but knows not to show it. In a fight Tony runs but Tom knows how to throw it. Tone (to the few mates he has) is at the grammar, sporty and alright at maths. Tom’s at the comprehensive - knows the system and just how to beat it – gets full marks in most things even if it means cheating. Somehow he excels, repels his reputation as an upstart but still the clown of the class. He’s grown up with narcotics – a way of life not a hobby – so still finds the time to sell to nobodies. He sells to the kids who’ve got money for nothing, backgrounds of privilege and no benefits for cutting – weed, speed, whatever they need to alleviate the knowledge that it’s themselves they hate for not daring to dream. Tony’s on this bandwagon, this plug drain of a drug plain – spiraling inwards as the shit hits his innards. He scrapes through the system with mediocrity, head down sniffing so no one can see. This see saw has swung, the balance has changed, now Tom’s world is an oyster but Tony’s is strange – his choices are narrowed to more education or going insane."

A friend said to me – you always have a partner, someone to kiss
You’re a serial dater, write something about this.
 
So here’s a poem called ‘Cereal Dater’...
 
Yes, it’s true. I’m a cereal dater
I can’t keep my hands off them:
Granola gets me going and muesli moves me
Rice crispies get my blood warm – snap crackle and porn.
Cornflakes make me horny
I get off my rocks to coco pops
And I have to stop myself at Weetabix
Their lustful gaze and big round…. Bits.

I wanna settle down with shreddies, Get cheeky with cheerios
Hug a honey nut, Fruit and Fibre feel me up
I wanna pounce on a honey puff, lick a lucky charm
Elope to the alps with alpen, kiss a special K
​
I’m all about breakfast, those romantic crunchy days
Give me more, give me more
Of those cereal dates.

For Kevin Foster, MP
www.devonlive.com/torbay-mp-defends-closure-of-seafront-shelter-used-by-rough-sleepers

Here's some reasons why plywood is better than the homeless:
Plywood doesn't get hungry, look scruffy or ask for money.
Plywood doesn't have problems that it talks about
Or places to go to walk around.
Plywood doesn't have a tent or a camping stove
Or get cold feet, fingers and toes.
Plywood doesn't tell a sad story
Or have a beating heart (so it's more like a Tory)
It's all these reasons and more
Why you should get some plywood boards
And block anywhere that people might sleep
Because problems are easier when they can't be seen
​And the homeless can just go back where they've been.