Bagful Of Broadsheets

Note to self;

Write something about enterprising young people, paper rounds and readers of big papers with supplements...

She had a bagful of broadsheets from the golden triangle

Called up that newsagent since she was 12, coz they paid best

Her dad took her there in his builders van - she told me

More than she'd ever said to me in one day - and you've got to love 'em more

When it's zero hours contracts and leave your life at the door

So she made that paper round hers and found the chattering classes

Reading Marketing at Goldsmiths now - she learned the hard way:

Some folk need more paper, more supplements and talk louder

Than others - £28 a week for years and the knowledge came free

Other people are going a long way and they deserve it too.

Credit to you all together son - u might want to keep hold of that one!

Love Story

"it's kind of like Hell's antechamber. I've got used to it. Leave me alone"

He said, imagining she was listening.

Youme

I'm so fucking ME that, apart from definitely never ever being you
(of, for with or to)
I'm just ME.

Not fucking you
(soz)

I don't want to appear selfish
but self promotion dictates
love thyself

Go to Pilates.

That does't rhyme ME
Oh fuck off - YOU.

Troubles Of Bob

You gave me your heart
I gave you my blood
It cut thru the iron
An' flattened the mud

On Monday, you were with me.

Strangers compared
What we knew was all dead
They looked in your drawers
An they looked in your head

On Tuesday, you were with me.

You threw the book at me
When you went away
Someday i might read it
If you'll come back and stay

On Wednesday, you were with me.

No other days of the week are represented in this song due to international licensing issues. We're sorry if this interrupts your listening pleasure in Stadiums Of The Damned.

x

Alarm Call

Let's borrow some language:
Say, from newsreaders or -
Two office workers covert talk in a lift.

Let's then, cleverly, deliver it in the style of,
Say, the other. So, two office workers:

"In the markets today, the Dow is one and a half points up
While the Nasdaq remains steady at four thousand and forty four".

and the newsreaders:

" She fucked him - in THIS lift! can you believe it?
Christmas Eve and I was in the other one waiting for the service
engineer and panicking like a bastard. You could hear everything down
the wires - gave her a right seeing to mind you he did"

(chuckles)

Then we carry advertising and the commissioners ask for another 12 weeks.

Great.

On the other side it's Snooker.

Somehow, after a while making people laugh becomes old hat,
you slip away in breaks during filming where you can watch the news being made
and you listen to the gossip of journalists who have given up on telling the truth
so long ago that they neither know what it is or have wilfully learned to forget.

Sure, it's just a media fantasy. All you can piece together of a life you didn't live
But you've seen 'Network'. You know the score on Plato's wall. The counter ticks.

There's something about Paul Nuttal announcing UKIP will stand in 'most constituencies'
You have begun to engage with the media narrative and you get the private innuendos:
Corbyn's not a leader. Nuttal's a prick. You notice the double standard and wonder why..

There's another strange article about whether people have it harder than did the miners..?

'Pit - Lattes Classes For the Working Classes', you think, having become good at this language business. (your back still hurts)

Then, you notice a hedgehog - that time already. Shouldn't someone be painting or writing poetry?

Best crack on.

She's So...

Jumble up these to fuck
no use to anyone now
Some you find on pavements
others come like hallucinations

At strange times of the day;
Worth collecting across borders
Sometimes an occupation drills
new terminology, reveals social mores

There's flighty stuff on new economics
New cuisine and new techno appliances
There the IOT and the smart car
3d printers, robots and women

It's all pretty foreign really.

Mostly, attraction runs the show
Happiness carries on shameless
as a dance in a graveyard full of
fresh-dug holes waiting for the dead.

Dirty little monsters.