Parenting in the 21st Century : Volume I

Fat kids
fat prams
gormless dads
clueless mams
maladaptive coping plans
the future's looking bright.

First Published in The Mudhutter 15, May 2008

Ask your Grannie

Grannies are great aren’t they? Well maybe not. My Grannie, or Nan as she preferred to be called, was an absolute tyrant of a woman. A woman so evil in fact that she wouldn’t have looked out of place sat in the company of the worlds most feared dictators. If she wasn’t knitting me jumpers that were designed with one thing in mind, to strangle me, then she was making me eat her homemade cooking. The cracks around the head were also memorable as well, and reminiscing about the violence still fills my heart with joy on those balmy summer evenings of thoughtful meanderings.


In between her attempts at prematurely ending my young life she seemed intent on using me as a guinea pig for a variety of experiments. I have to admit to being
impressed with her in-depth knowledge of every non-medical remedy known under the sun, and quite possibly beyond.

Her vast knowledge and life experience also lent itself to beauty tips, gardening and plethora of handy hints. She was in fact a walking of Bella, Woman’s Own and Home & Garden rolled into one. So, with that in mind here are a few of Grannies, sorry Nan’s pointers for a wholesome and fulfilling life.

Bacon in a stocking - Placed around the neck for a sore throat (what a waste of food and lingerie)

Cabbage leaves in your bra - To keep breast’s cool in summer (I’ve got no tits, maybe she thought I was one)

Potatoes in your pockets - To help ease arthritis (Bag of crisp would be easier)

Bathing feet in a bucket of piss - A cure for athlete’s foot (Erotic pissing? Not for me Nan)

Butter - For a bang on the head (Where she had hit me AGAIN!)

Salt Bath - To clear infections (Fart and burn your ring piece)

Tea leaves - Good for plants (Even special herb gardens in the loft)

Spicy food - Induces labour (I’m just big boned)

Crusts - Curly hair (I don’t want a free Chris Waddle)

Buttercup under chin - To see if I liked butter (Just ask me Nan)

Tea bags - Used for fake tan when she’d used up all her wrinkled stockings to help cure my sore throat (See No 1)

Dry biscuits - Hangover cure (You drank too much anyway, didn’t you, GRANNIE)

First Published in The Mudhutter 3, February 2005

It's a question of taste

The beauty of being able to understand and appreciate the written word is an often underestimated art in our twin turbo, go faster stripes world we live in. Why take the time to develop an interpretation of something, when you can have it served up to you in a one size fits all fashion that requires little thought at all. Think Cheeky Girls and you'll understand where I'm coming from.

The prosecution will now provide evidence that flies in the face of the usual literary shite dished up. Thus proving categorically, that the written word is still King.

The Cure - Faith

catch me if i fall
i'm losing hold
i can't just carry on this way
and every time
i turn away
lose another blind game
the idea of perfection holds me...
suddenly i see you change
everything at once
the same
but the mountain never moves...

rape me like a child
christened in blood
painted like an unknown saint
there's nothing left but hope...
your voice is dead
and old
and always empty
trust in me through closing years
perfect moments wait...
if only we could stay
please
say the right words
or cry like the stone white clown
and stand
lost forever in a happy crowd...

no-one lifts their hands
no-one lifts their eyes
justified with empty words
the party just gets better and better...

i went away alone
with nothing left
but faith


As a written piece it's pure poetry. Set to it's music the words take on another dimension. Especially with Smith's voice gliding softly, but deliberately over the stark arrangement. 1989 seems a long time ago and my trip down to the Wembley Arena to see the last two nights of The Cure's European Tour seems a distant memory. The make-up that was painted onto my young drunken face never did seem to be completely rinsed away and the words remain embossed on my mind forever.

The prosecution rests.

Once upon a time in Spring

What’s the point
in looking back
at memories
and photographs.
When I can
sing
dance
and laugh,
making memories
with you.

April in Autumn

Ten little fingers
ten little toes,
an ocean spray
of love cascades,
to bathe my waiting soul.

May all of your hopes
and all of your dreams
flow endlessly,
relentlessly,
like the deepest
summer stream.

April in autumn,
my summer, winter, spring
fill my heart with love
with all the joy you bring.