Cobwebs (Poem)

Had that dream again…wrote a poem.

There are certain cobwebs that just cannot be reached
And as I wake from dreaming you’re back here among the sheets
Over years the dream it changes as the mind rewinds
Memories that first were scathing turn into something kind
Young love is strewn with flowers bright as early morn
But some flowers like the roses also come with thorns
And upon those thorns we get pierced and we see a little blood
But time is like a plaster that mends you back to love
And now that both our lives are fine and strangers we remain
You remember only good things so it wasn’t all in vain
There are certain cobwebs that just cannot be reached
They dance and stir upon the air they rest on memories beach
Some cobwebs are for keeping
To be snagged on when you’re sleeping
And I send you my love
With a laugh and a smile and a shove

Why I’d Love A Progressive Cross Party Alliance.

A few years ago I was lucky enough to see Tony Benn speak at a couple of May Day Rallies. Both times he finished with this anecdote.

“Once upon a time in a town not unlike this a small boy fell down a well. The towns folk gathered to try and get him out. “The blacksmith said, “Hang on I’ve got some rope, we can throw it down and get him out.” But when he tried the rope was too short. Then the librarian said, “Hang on we’ve got rope at the library that may work.” But again it was too short. It was the same with the teachers rope and the nurses rope and the janitors rope. Finally losing his patience the young boy cried upwards. “Come on you people…Just tie the rope together.”

 

Needless to say I was soon getting messages from frustrated Nationalists pointing out they’ve offered an alliance with Labour. It was turned down at the last election and it’s been turned down now. Trust me I fully understand your frustration and I still find the Scots Labour leadership to be a pretty hopeless/Blairite bunch. I also completely agree with the Scots turning their backs on what was Tory Blair’s idea of a Labour movement. But on the notion of an alliance I wouldn’t take everything being said at face value. Milliband’s  Labour party of non alliance were a very different beast to the Labour Party of this moment. There was little difference between a Labour, Lib-Dem or Conservative MP around that time. They were self serving and not much more than puppets of  large corporations and media Barons. I would hope people on all sides of SNP, Lib-Dem and Green could at least agree Jeremy Corbyn isn’t that kind of politician. And in that one initial agreement suddenly we all have something in common.

It’s no secret large swathes of the Labour party don’t want Corbyn there. I feel that after the dust settles on this election he may sadly be gone. If he is I would say, “Good effort, well done for standing up to a corrupt/biased media who dragged your name from the word go. Well done for standing up to members of your own party who’s only interest was career and self preservation. Well done for increasing the Labour party membership by hundreds of thousands and giving ordinary people a choice in who represents them. Well done for getting proper old Labour socialist policies back into the public domain.” The point is that now Jeremy has got these policies out there it’s vital that they are kept on the table. There are people within his party keen to see this happen.

I know there are prominent/ potential leadership figures in both Labour and SNP who do favour a progressive alliance. Just because it’s not out on the table yet doesn’t mean it would never happen. We have to stand back a bit from current dialogues and try to look at a bigger picture. If Corbyn was to come out and say yes to an alliance just now the English/British media would finish him off. There would be cries about England being ruled by the Scots. In short it would be a disaster. But what I hope Scots nationalists should understand is there are hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of people living in England who are entirely sympathetic to Scots self rule and see the SNP as a credible party. That huge group of people have a voice and one day Scots may be reliant on them. If the second referendum fails then the only way forward for the Scots would be an alliance.

In a perfect world a cross party alliance could finish off the Tories for good. Many European parliaments have been built on alliances. So try to put current grievances aside. Try to admit to yourself that many ordinary people all across the UK are all after the same thing. Try to be patient. Tie the rope together.

Consume (poem)

Just recently I found myself saying “Over thirty years ago we decided we were all just consumers…and now we’re utter c**ts because of that” So that inspired a wee poem

CONSUME.

I want I want I want it all
Work buy get paid
Hoping to get laid
Give me more stuff
As I work rest
And get played
For that new phone
Over glass I would crawl
I only let Nike
Ever kick at my balls
I need I need I need everything
G string nose ring
Cling to the bling
Only drink this brand
Cos its the real thing
Eat drink
Piss in the sink
Work hard play hard
For everything else there’s MasterCard
I have I have I have all the best stuff
I bet he drinks Carling
He looks kinda rough
Gas coal and oil
The planet it boils
Screw it
Just do it
Who cares if it spoils
If there is shit
Then we’re shovelling it
But we care not a bit
Because we are loving it
This can’t last forever
It’s a fairly safe bet
Is this really
The best a man gets
Consume deplete
Live in compliance
This is the rot
The appliance of science
Advertising hoods
Finger lickin’ good
My health fuck it
Eat shit by the bucket
This credit card’s a git
Don’t leave home without it
We’re ravers and cravers
We’re masters and slavers
Lost sight of ourselves
Should have gone to spec savers
Does this fit that bit
Cashmere fine knit
Close pit job quit
Because we’re really worth shit

 

 

 

Stop calling Intolerance “Populism” It Isn’t.

DISSENT.

noun: fascism
  1. (in general use) extreme right-wing, authoritarian, or intolerant views or practices.
     
noun: populism
  1. Support for the concerns of ordinary people.

I’ve put the definitions of the two words, as you’ll find them in the dictionary, above. The reason I’ve done this is I worry about a future situation where we say to ourselves…Perhaps the biggest mistake we made was calling those with fascist leanings populist…as I’m herded into a camp for being a dissenter.

The Dutch election results are in and Geert Wilder’s far right Party for Freedom failed to live up to supporters’ expectations in a closely-watched Dutch general election. All through the election his party was referred to as “populist” Their key manifesto point is a ban on Islam and zero immigration from non Western countries. So as “populists” they reflect the views of “ordinary people” …unless you’re a Muslim. As far as I remember…

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Being a Tory at Easter.

meme 43.

Of all the ironies this life can throw at us the one I find raises an eyebrow most is the notion of the Conservative Christian.  Ruth Davidson proudly claims to be one (and a feminist) while pursuing brutal policies against women just this week. David Cameron did the same while his appointed welfare minister Ian Duncan Smith’s policies contributed to over two thousand deaths of those declared “fit for work.”

The list could go on for days. If there’s any truth in Christianity, the hypocrisy of being both Conservative and Christian is perhaps among Satan’s best work.

There’s a joke I sometimes do. It goes…”So I see our Tory prime Minister has declared themselves Christian. That makes sense. Because Jesus hated the poor didn’t he? There was that time he cured the cripple. He said those famous words. “Take up thy bed and walk…You’ve been declared fit for work you scrounging bastard.”

And now a poem…

  

CONSERVATIVE CHRISTIAN.

So you’re a Conservative Christian

Gods Heaven is your future

To me you’re just a paradox

Like some vegetarian butcher

Did Jesus cure the cripple

With almighty power of kirk

Just to sanction all his benefits

‘Cos now he’s fit for work

Two Thousand disability deaths

Of the lame you are a hater

I don’t think “blessed are the money lenders”

Were the words of our creator

So you’re a Conservative Christian

Because you go to church

Yet immigrants from holy lands

You’d like to give the birch

I don’t think Jeesy Peeps ethnicity

Sits well with Nigel Farage

Does this mean that you proclaim

“I’m a car” when standing in a garage

So you’re a Conservative Christian

Your Pro Life stance is nonsense

The stuff of fluff and gloss

For once we’re born into this world

You couldn’t give a toss

So on you go you hypocrite

Ring loud the old church bell

If your imaginary friend goes by his book

Well see you all in hell.

 

 

 

Endings.

I’m writing a new show that will be biographical and feature tales about mental health. Last time I felt the black dog tugging on his leash was after the death of my dad. In truth though that wasn’t depression it was me grieving, which is perfectly natural. I feel it’s important we recognise that and don’t define ourselves via a condition…some of these jokes are in bad taste…good.  

I hold everything the NHS does in the highest regard. Being Scottish I’m quite reliant on them. I hate these twits that say, “Ah but you can’t expect free care forever.” It’s not free. We pay for it. And being an ex smoker of 20 years, with the amount of tax I’ve paid, when my time is up I want a gold plated bed and disgraced Tories washing my feet while I whack their arses with a rolled up copy of the Morning Star.

I’m not claiming NHS care is perfect. I used to have an uncle who had an NHS pacemaker and every time he farted the garage door would open.

My dad went out in an NHS bed. Not so much to do with a Scots lifestyle and more to do with he was chock a full of white asbestos from his job. The funeral was lovely and very well attended but his cremation went on forever.

That was the last time I felt depressed. But the point is it wasn’t depression I was just grieving. We should recognise that, I feel it’s very important we don’t define ourselves via conditions. Being sad is sometimes the right way to be. I really don’t like how we romanticise bad mental health. Poor old Van Gough get’s that, “Ah well, the reason he was so great was because he was so tortured.”
Bullshit. They claim his last words were  “la tristesse durera” meaning  “The pain is eternal” Well that was conveniently poetic of him wasn’t it?…and just not true. You know what my dads last words were? “You maybe better get a doctor. I think there’s something really wrong with me.” Which makes perfect sense. He wasn’t rattling out little bon mots on the nature of being. “Ah the universe is a hurricane and we are nought but farts.” What? What’s he saying? I’m not sure, something about farting like a hurricane. Ah…it’s probably the mixture of hospital cabbage and morphine.

I reckon Van Gough’s last words probably were more along the lines of, “Speak up you fool, I’m missing a lug. What? No I don’t feel like getting it down in a painting! I’m really fucking depressed! Send out for some prostitutes and Absinth, that tends to work”

And if those really were his last words then he was wrong. Pain isn’t eternal…Well unless you’re watching Scotland in a world cup qualifier. In which case it can feel like it. The point is you get better. Of course I can still feel a swelling of emotion when I think of my dad, but it’s a nice feeling. I was just thinking today how he could be full of constant surprises. I remember watching indie band The Smiths on telly one day and he looked up from his paper and said, “What a lovely singer that man is. Perfect diction, you can make out every word.” I was stunned. As far as music went he wasn’t into anything post Sinatra. Now he’s gone from Sinatra to The Smiths and cut out pretty much everything in between. That’s some gap. Or maybe he just liked the idea of “hanging DJs” Then there was the time gay icon Boy George first appeared on Top of the Pops. Again he looks up from his paper, “What’s that.” He enquired? Not who, what. I said, “It’s Boy George. He’s gay.” To which he replied, “Well if gay means happy then that man’s ecstatic.” A joke I feel good enough to go in this show.

Although the death of my dad from cancer was anything but pleasant I didn’t find it horrific either. Life kind of prepares you for such stuff. And even in among all the pain nice things would happen. The day before he went he decided to rally round and find the strength to watch Scotland play England at Rugby. We hadn’t defeated England in an age…that day we won. Nice one God. I always reckoned if he did exist he’s probably Scottish and invented England to punish us for our sins.

Even on the day of his passing quirky stuff was happening. My family is like The Broons. There’s as many of us as them and like The Broons if one heads out to solve a problem then another nine follow behind them. On the day my dad was at the end he had been put into twilight to ease his pain. It was decided a word with the nurse was required and in typical Broons/Scott family tradition nine of them set off down the corridor and I was charged with watching my dad as I had a “nursing background”. I’d worked for nine months in a psychiatric hospital about ten years prior. They hadn’t been out the room more than two minutes and my dad decided, from whatever level of consciousness he was on, It seems to have gone a bit quite I’ll just sneak away now. And he stopped breathing. I got a fright. I then said, “Shit dad they’re all out the room. Could you please just hang on.” And he promptly started breathing again.

So then I lean out his room and call on the family. As I was doing this I did the most ridiculous thing of keeping one hand on his bed, like you do with a shopping trolley in the supermarket…in case someone is looking for exactly the same groceries as you and makes off with your stuff. I’ve no idea where I thought he might be going. I think the chances of him leaping up and announcing there’s maybe some time left for a final bet at the bookies were slim.

PS My dad’s the one on the left in this photo.