Tuesday, 20 April 2010
Saint Georges Day Lament
Not a kindly word,
or phrase of celebration.
Choking on the lies,
abandoning the nation.
Flags unfurled wave free,
shackled by false hate and fear.
Burying our souls,
in prescription drugs and beer.
Saint George has been slain
and no-one stopped to blink.
A nation with no pride,
as if recruited not to think.
Not a single word,
was heard in protestation.
Can you hear the sound?
The dying of a nation.
First Published in the Mudhutter Football Express Issue 28, April 2010
Sunday, 18 April 2010
An Open Letter to Ashley Cole
What the fuck is up with you son? You’re shacked up with one of the most beautiful women in the world and still you can’t get it right! It’s symptomatic of you and your ilk. Pampered footballers, who want it all and care not a jot who they shit on to get it.
How the fuck could you do this to sweet, sweet Cheryl? If I had a bird like Cheryl I’d do everything to keep her. If Cheryl said “cook me Lobster Risotto, I’d cook it”, if Cheryl said “I want romancing in a bath sprinkled with roses” I’d chew the fucking petals off to provide it. Are you getting the idea Ashley?
Surely it can’t be a lack of action in the bedroom Ashley? If Cheryl was mine I’d ride the hole clean off of her. I’d throw her petite and highly sexed body all over my mansion. I can see her now with a kitchen apron on and as she turns her back to me she has nothing on underneath except her stockings and suspenders. Her taught arse delicately covered with see through black panties. She’d bend over all seductively, placing her index finger naughtily by the corner of her bright red lip-sticked lips. Her eyes wide open and helpless like a fox cornered in a woodland glade, begging to be taken in manly fashion.
Do you like the thought of another individual being bent over Ashley? Do you like the smell of the sweat and testosterone in the shower after a particularly arduous training session son? Rumour has it that you and a certain ray of sunshine were very close during your time at Arsenal? The boy has done good since returning to the heart of the North London clubs defence eh? Not that is a defence for you fella.
Don’t even get me started on your “hurt” at only being offered a pittance of 55k a week contract at Arsenal you selfish little cunt. What motivates you Ashley? Is it an unquenchable need for acceptance? Or is it a tangerine in the mouth and wearing your Mam’s tan tights that keeps you cheating on sweet, sweet Cheryl?
Sometimes when a bird looks dirty you can bet your bottom Euro that they are anything but experimental. But Cheryl? Nah, I bet she’s a dirty wee fuck, the type of lass that spreads her arse cheeks and begs to be anally violated. A right filthy ride!
Of course it could be the fall out from an unwanted but necessary alliance. Let’s face it, you were being closely monitored for your post-match bath antics and allegedly Cheryl twatted a non-white skinned girl in the bogs, which I may add I don’t believe. Talk about killing two birds with one stone.
My advice to you son is this. Let Cheryl go and let her find a REAL man, someone like me.
If Cheryl was mine. . . . . .. . . . . .you know the fucking rest.
Dirrrrty (give me 5mins alone with Mrs Cole) Oldman
First published in the Mudhutter Football Express Issue 28 April 2010
Thursday, 15 April 2010
Absolution
Forgive me oh my Lord,
for I know not what I do.
Mother turned her back,
whilst Daddy thrashed me blue.
So I kick and punch
and hit and slap,
each one in my wake.
I laugh and sneer
and spit and crack,
the fear in every face.
I'm a sensitive wee soul,
buried deep within this hate.
Full of anger, love and fear,
from a childhood that was raped.
Forgive me oh my Lord,
I despise what I've become.
Save me from myself,
please let me feel your love.
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