Wearing a Suit to the Jobcentre

I starch my collar,
I link my cuffs,
I lint roll my legs,
I Dettol my shirt,
I Domestos my shit,

I polish my brogues,
I pocket my watch,
I iron my tie,
Double Windsor my knot,
No jobs,

05.07



Untitled

In the severed ways of the underground craze,
I slip into the beyond,
No returning eye meets the stationary gaze,
Thus falter the forming bond,

Scaletrix meets tragic end,
My gorge rises at the thought,
While the driver drives me round the bend,
From this nightmare I am wrought,

Where barmaid stains paint thy pearly gates,
Down in the gutter of oblivion,
Man meets maze, oh my halcyon days,
The circle line, on and on,

Have love, will travel,
Through direct line insurance,
To the shatterproof heart of the matter,
We need no reassurance,

It's a navigation to nowhere,
And if you think that's going to be fun,
You've got another thing coming,
You've got another thing coming, son,

20.08



Untitled

With hopeful hearts not marked by damage,
We reach for what we cannot meet,
But the smell of last year's marriage,
Still lingers in the street,

Last Christmas was a car crash,
Wong Kar-wai collides,
And all colour forms an ice patch,
On which we slip and slide,

My heart's become a landfill,
Full of impressionist art,
My head's all wrapped in tinsel,
These days it's always getting dark,

If all price has a meaning,
It's two-for-one for me,
For love belies all reason,
And one day it'll turn two to three,

Quarter to four in the morning,
Laying in another's heat,
Somewhere in the sudden cold stare,
We reach for what we cannot meet,

19.08



Snowy and Smitten

Your kiss becomes a weapon,
Where the white flag once waved,
Your footsteps make workmen cry,
Across the streets as they’re paved,

In and out of the revolving door,
At the entrance of heartbreak hotel,
In and out of my revolving drawers,
Is a sentence I once befell,

Handholding in handcuffs,
An action man in Ancoats,
Hold on and I’ll take you there,
To the sudden depths of my dreamboat,

Alone in the airing cupboard,
I’ll win hide-and-seek,
Alone with last year's husband,
I can tell you’re growing weak,
To my seasonal advances,
My Christmastime romances,
They come and then they go,
But by February,
We could make it baby,
To the wind caution we will throw,

19.08



Reflections on That Thing

There was a time before this,
When I had a fixed address,
When from the hand of the dutiful taxpayer,
Was I rightfully blessed,

27.11



Casanova’s Ambrosia Supernova Nervosa

The brains I had have gone to bed,
Along with the rest of me,
They wake up once a week,
To walk themselves onto a bus,
And come to on Princess Street,

Now what remains of my mortal frame,
You’ll find here on this sofa,
With the lost refrains of post-coital shame,
Casanova’s nervosa,

The extractor fan light is most forgiving,
For features here and fair,
Forgo smoke machine for kettle steam,
‘Neath the toaster's steel eyed glare,
My brain is a sieve,
My penis a whisk,
Once I was a cyclone ranger,
Greg Wallace exists,

17.11



Untitled

shit, shave, shower, and a shoeshine,
on the hook of gainful employment,
another day goes floating down the wire,
underlines the death of enjoyment,
from packed sardine tin bus ride,
to sentimental stagger home,
making arrangements, booking vacations,
an erstwhile subprime loan,
community days, charity raised,
money for a fabulous sum,
i woke with my tie tangled in the ceiling fan,
and i’m coming into work with a ___,

15.07



Untitled

get out the house once a day,
that's what i say, everyday,

i would go to the pub,
i would drive a car,
i would go quite far,
but i haven't got any money,
i would feed the ducks,
i would get the bus,
i would get a ___,
but i haven't got any money,

so i walk and i walk and i walk and i walk,
and i walk and i walk and i walk and i walk,

if i were a rich man,
still living off of Student Finance England loan payments,
but now i am a poor man,
still in eternal atonement for my Music degree,

i linger in the dim-lit corner of the reduced section,
like a singer in some crap Lynch-esque exploitation,

Ken Loach, can you hear me,
Mike Leigh, can you see me,
begging you on my knees,

21.07



Saveloy Eternal

Where phallic dreams split the seams,
A lifetime of unrest,
So long sausages, so it seems,
My lifeline of excess,

Oh, my chip fat drenched jeans,
Stand tall now,
Stand proud,

Oroborus,
My saveloy eternal,
Its constitution: reconstituted,
International,
Never internal,
Something about rectitude,

The saveloy that met no end,
A sausage dog on repeat,
Mr Freud awoke before dawn,
And is dancing in the street,
Hand in hand with the hand of fate of the saveloy eternal,
The saveloy eyeball,
The saveloy arsehole,
It’s the saveloy eternal,

08.01



Universal Credit

I've got universal credit,
I've got absolute merit,
Take a look at my debit,
Card man, pure, plastic, feel it,

Pay heed all you students,
All ye of little faith,
Now take a look at my debt,
It'll never touch me at my pace,

Someday soon they'll give me a bus pass,
A near lifetime of subsidy,
Just plant me on the right side of the road,
And I'll go far, you'll see,

Varnish vanishes upon the screen,
Between the taps I'm fading,
Two sugars in my tea, please,
Lost in the rumble and grunt of the engine,
From the backseats where I warm my bones,
I watch the black sheet warn the homes,
And I surrender, to the rain,
And I remember, catching trains,

20.08



Gone Bovril

Drinking Bovril is pretty neat,
It has mystical properties,
Gelatinous qualities,
And goes well on toast,

God this Bovril can't be beat,
Unilever, never leave me,
I am but your lowly serf,
Till death do us part,

How could Bovril taste so sweet,
Fortuna Virilis can only blind me,
To the misfortune that awaits,
And marks my coming fate,

God this Bovril's got me beat,
Let the closing credits roll,
Mother, paint my tombstone brown,
Mother,

27.11



Why Do Perfume Adverts Always End on Rooftops?

I chased her to the rooftop,
And threw myself off,
Dior,

19.11



The Number You Have Dialled Has Not Been Recognised

Fry's Chocolate Cream,
And a thousand agonising screams,
These are the things,
That plaster my dreams,

In some fool’s kitchen,
I once said I'd know who to call,
If I ever woke one night,
In a cold sweat,
With thoughts of human geography,
With thoughts of aeronautical engineering,
With thoughts of criminology,
But I have forgotten their number,

Now I've a gullet full of Alka Seltzer,
And I dream of,
A bullet for the mullet,
Like 1990,
Like 1990,

27.11



Above the Community

my frozen fingertips,
stick to the gutter,
of whatever church roof i am upon,
beneath me is community,
above me only sky,
i am become the forsaken son,
for this gutter comes undone,

cast me through a stained glass window,
drown me at the altar,
put your faith in me,
and i will surely falter,
and i will surely die,
in this missionary position,

01.12