I do not like him or his hair

I do not like his angry glare

Or riding on a Camel hump

I do not like that Donald Trump

I do not like his orange face

His policies are a disgrace

I do not like his suit and tie

I do not like his beady eyes

He’s about as smart as Forest Gump

I do not like that Donald Trump

I do not like his fascist chums

And his crazy views on the Muslims

I do not like his tiny hands

I do not like for what he stands

I do not like the things he says

Or where on women his hand lays

He is the chief of all the chumps

I do not like that Donald Trump.

I do not like his Mexican wall

To make them pay takes some gall

He moans about the fake news

I hope it’s giving him the blues

You can only ask him stuff he likes

Just like Hitler and his Third Reich

Get rid of him I do beseech

This president we should impeach

With climate change he’ll do the trees in

He’s not afraid of committing treason

In the bin he should be dumped

I do not like that Donald Trump.

I do not like his nuclear expansion

While living in a gilded mansion

He’s got his hand upon the button

His face is like a cut of mutton

I do not like his Stepford wives

Just look at her she has no live

This man child he is a bully

A simpleton with brain so woolly

This bad man he is a racist

He sees the colour in our faces

He treats women like they are strumpets

He grabs a leg and then he’ll hump it

This planet really took a slump

When they elected Donald Trump.

An Imagined Syrian Refugee.

For a writing exercise we were to create a background for a central character. I imagined a Syrian refugee. All of this background is fiction but comes from research I did on the situation…


CHRISTIAN SHAMMAS (A Syrian refugee)

Christian Shammas is a 22 year old Syrian refugee. His mother Camila Abdel-Massih (surname means servant of Christ in the Arabic world) was a Palestinian Christian who fled to Syria as a child with her wealthy parentsduring the 1967 war. His father Tabarank Shammas is an Syrian Arab and Sunni Muslim. His father is from poorer farming heritage.
Although interdenominational marriages are not unheard of in Syria they are not common. His mixed faith upbringing led to bullying as a child.
Christians first name in the Arabic tradition means love and his surname means friendship. He likes to introduce himself by pointing this out.
Before having to flee his hometown of Damascus in 2015 he was studying dentistry.  He is fluent in English and French. (Both popular second languages in Syria although English is preferred.)
Despite being very well educated Christian is profoundly dyslexic which leads to huge problems for him when he has to flee the country.
During the Arab spring of 2013 he was arrested by Bashar al-Assad security forces with 13’000 other online activists and severely tortured leading to him walking with a severe limp.
He has a seven year old sister Mary Shammas who is entirely uneducated in any formal way.
During some carpet bombing Christian and his sister were separated from his parents. He doesn’t know if they are alive or dead. He has no idea which side was behind the bombing but is determined to find out.
As a refugee in Syria he is recognised by two of Assad’s secret police who threaten to rape his sister. He kills them both with a pistol he found in some ruins.
This forces him to flee the country with his sister with money he has stashed. He makes it to “The Jungle” refugee camp in France which is where we find him.
The only physical possessions he has apart from the clothes on his back is an I-pod and charger. The I-pod is filled with the poems of Syrian poet and Nobel Prize nominee Adunis.
He quotes this poetry often to his sister when she is distressed. The I-Pod is also filled with songs by Elvis. Listening to Elvis also helps calm his sister.
Whilst at the camp his young sister is being targeted by human traffickers.
The camp is now to be demolished and to protect his sister Christian agrees to have her moved to the UK. He has no idea how to contact her once this happens. Christian is to remain stranded in France. Whilst at the camp he befriends a Syrian man named Sayid Burhan who helps him with daily life. For the journey to the UK he entrusts his sister to Sayid.   Unbeknownst to Christian he is the leader of a child trafficking group. Christian finds out the truth a day after he last sees his sister.
Some Quotes.
 “To the country dug into our lives like a grave, to the country etherized, and killed, a sun rises from our paralyzed history into our millennial sleep” ― Ali Ahmad Said Asbar Adunis
“What did we lose, what was lost in us? To whom do these distances belong that separated us and that now bind us? Are we still one or have we both broken into pieces? How gentle this dust is- Its body now, and mine, at this very minute are one and the same” ― Adonis, If Only the Sea Could Sleep
 “If only we were not that seedling of Creation, Of Earth and its generations, If only we had remained simple Clay or Ember, Or something in between, Then we would not have to see This World, its Lord, and its Hell, twice over.” ― Adonis

John gets Mad, Class and Elites.

I was doing a gig in a posher bit of town the other night and an elderly lady came up to me and asked, “Why is it that all comedians are on the left?” I replied that there are conservative comedians nowadays. And if you think not so long ago lots of comedians were  right wing or Tories. Just look at Jim Davidson and Bernard Manning. And she replied, “Yes but they were horrible.” I said, “Yeah I know. I wonder why that was.”

I miss the simpler days when there were just three classes. Upper, middle and working. Now we’ve got

  1. Elites
  2. Upper
  3. Middle
  4. Working
  5. Oh my god he’s wearing Crocs.

Class really does inform your sense of humour. here’s a genuine conversation I had with one of the Cambridge Footlights at The Edinburgh festival this year.

ME. So yesterday my front row was four 13 – 14 year old boys.

FOOTLIGHTS. That must have been difficult.

ME. No. They were great. I had a great moment when I did my money bucket speach. I said to them. You young guys don’t have to pay…But I do want a blow job. Don’t worry you still get the free CD.

FOOTLIGHTS. Good God! And the audience were OK with that?

ME. Yeah. Err…It was one of the biggest laughs of the night.

FOOTLIGHTS. Im shocked.

ME. That’s nothing. I shifted another 4 CDs and got a blow job.

FOOTLIGHTS. ( Gazes into the middle distance…. Then goes inside)

ME. Sniggers…

I recently quite inadvertently stumbled on a way to make yourself feel like an Elite. I was in the park and had eaten a bag of pistachio nuts. Obviously when you finish pistachio nuts you’re left with a bag of hard empty shells. Just as I was about to clear them away a gust of wind came and scattered them over the ground. I suppose it looked like I was throwing out grain as a flock of pigeons descended on them… Well, suddenly I felt like the chancellor. I thought “You think you’re getting something. But it’s nothing but empty shells. That’s trickle down economics for you. I get nuts, you get empty shells. Know why? Because you’re vermin.”

And there was this one pigeon that couldn’t fly because it had a broken wing. Well…It was making out it had I broken wing. But I knew better than that. So I started kicking it, “Come on you, you can fly, you’re not fooling me.” Eventually I just picked it up and threw it in the air. It came down with a thud and died. I said, “Fair enough. You’ve passed the assessment.”












On the anniversary of Thatchers Death (song)

Anniversary celebrations…

This just popped up as a Facebook memory. I wrote it on the day of her death. Trust me the sentiment still stands.



(Sung to the tune of Bye Bye Blackbird)


Cut back all our care and dole

So much woe

No tears to show

Bye Bye Thatcher

When nobody weeps for thee

On the street protesters meet

Bye bye Thatcher


You showed us no love or understanding

So Satan’s mark upon your arse is branded

Get out of bed, fight and strike

Go rioting ‘till late at night

Thatcher Bye bye

David Bowie. A fan and friends remember.

Last week due to unforeseen circumstance I had to write about Bowie in ways I wasn’t expecting. Out of respect I’ve let that sit for a week…this is the blog I would have liked to initially post…

 I said to myself. A few minutes later the first tears of many that day arrived.

Around 10 minutes after hearing the news of Bowies passing I discovered an email saying I’d been accepted to university for my BA hons in Drama and Script, something I’d wanted to do since childhood (I’m 46 years old at this particular earth moment). My emotions were now properly roller coasting. My mum who’s now 81 and as decent a Christian type as you’ll meet anywhere said, “That’s David Bowie leaving the planet and passing on some of his life to you.” Yes my mum is awesome. Sometimes she IS Ziggy Stardust. Obviously such a lovely statement didn’t help stem the flow of tears on my 3 hour journey home to Newcastle.

The first message I got was from an old school friend Yanthe. She texted direct to say she was “Blubbing like a bairn.” Next a lot of old friends started to message on Facebook, many remarking on how on hearing the news they immediately thought of me. It was nice to have my life long devotion to him recognised. You should understand that by the time I was 13 my bedroom was like a shrine to him with little wallpaper showing due to images and cuttings and posters and lyric sheets of Mr David Bowie. I once read years ago that the only fans more devoted are Elvis fans. I think we may have way outdone them by now. One message from my friend Andrew reminded me of the night I had him laughing uproariously by playing the Laughing Gnome single at the wrong speed of 33 and a third and then how I’d I’m scared him shitless by playing the start to the Diamond Dogs LP in pitch darkness. Happy memories. Young teenage carefree mucking about memories.

Why Bowie? I dunno. You could ask the millions of other devoted fans and I’m sure there will be many stories of him making us feel accepted as outsiders. I think there’s more to it than that. I think beside all the man from outer space perception there was a feeling of him being one of us that stretched way beyond isolated teenage angst. He was anti establishment/ established ideas of what you can and cannot do. Aren’t we all a bit like that?

I’m not saying this for effect but my earliest memory is of Bowie and the Spiders doing the Jean Genie on Top of the Pops. I was 3 years old.  I remember my mum and dad remarking about “the state of him” I remember my older brothers and sisters saying they liked him. My next encounter with him was when I was 5 and Space Oddity was at number 1. He’s got two different eyes. That really stuck in my head. Next up Ashes to Ashes is at number 1. I was 10 and found the video for the song mesmerizing. He’s dressed as a clown, while being chased by a bulldozer and his nan seems to pop up at the end. What a curious man. Ironically the moment I was confirmed as a lifelong fan was exactly the same moment a generation before me had fallen for him. May 1983 was the 1000th edition of Top Of The Pops, by now I was already taking an interest but when I saw that clip of him and the Spiders doing Starman…well that was pretty much it. There cannot possibly be a better song or cooler man in existence.

My favourite memory is less a memory and more a confirmation of higher forces than me pointing out that we are all supposed to be a fan at some point or another. My favourite book on Bowie is Ziggyology by Simon Goddard. The book begins with a quote by Arthur C Clarke and goes on to examine many aspects of history from cosmology to Pythagoras to Gustav Holts The Planets (used as walk on music by The Spiders) and the crossing of artistic, historical and scientific lay lines that all lead to the creation of Ziggy Stardust. In some ways the book is as much about synchronicity as it is about that period in Bowies life. The dictionary definition of synchronicity is… “the simultaneous occurrence of events which appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection.”

First let me explain my own personal connection to the books author. Prior to publishing Ziggyology Simon wrote the book Mozipedia. a thorough documentation of all things Morrissey and Smiths related. Upon opening Mozipedia  you’ll find on the fist page a preface dedication, “For misery guts of Bonnyrigg.” Where’s Bonnyrigg and who’s Misery guts? Well Bonnyrigg is a small town in the Lothians of Scotland where I grew up and Misery guts is a certain Paul Johnson a school friend of mine who lived just around the corner from me. He and the author have been long time pen pals. He’s as much of an authority on Moz as I am on Dave. We used to listen to both in each others bedrooms. Look at that a book written for each of us…even though Simon doesn’t know me from Adam. But that’s not the great cosmic coincidence. No I have a BETTER one than even that.

I was at Heathrow airport train terminus London, sat on a platform reading Ziggyology. I’d just got to a part describing how Rick Wakeman came to put together the beautiful piano work on Hunk Dory.  I glanced up and there on the platform opposite was Rick Wakeman. Now, knowing the nature of this book I thought no way, you’re willing that to be him stood about 20 feet away.  So with minutes to go before my train arrived I ran across the platforms walkway and up to him. “Excuse me sorry to bother, but you are Rick Wakeman aren’t you?” “Yes.” “Ha! Unbelievable I’m just reading about the wonderful work you did on Hunky Dory.” “Thanks.” “Sorry got to run again my trains coming.”

And that as they say was that. You can make up your own minds from there. The book does finish on a sentiment that I loved upon first reading. After the author makes all his connections and lays out all his evidence he concludes…WE ARE ALL ZIGGY STARDUST.

Couldn’t agree more.  Bye, bye…we love you.

The REAL news episode 2. Poverty. (With special guest Zoe Williams)

In the interests of truth and in reaction to the bullshit perpetrated by our established media,  I’ve decided to start posting regular news columns here on the blog. They will hopefully be a mixture of information and some funnies. Please share far and wide…


Our first item comes from the pages of Zoe Williams excellent book Get it together (why we deserve better politics.)   

Poverty is a thing in this country. The UK is the most financially unequal country in Northern Europe, containing the richest area -inner London- and fully 9 of the 10 poorest areas (the only one of the bottom ten not in the UK is Hainaut, in Belgium) the poorest 20 per cent in the UK are poorer than any of their equivalents in North Western Europe (closer to the poor of Slovenia and the Czech Republic). Average wages have dropped 4% since 2010 and had been flat since 2003. Since 2008, real median weekly wages-income determined by its purchasing power; that is, a calculation of wages relative to prices – have fallen by 10.2 %: only wages in Greece have fallen by more. Our train fares are the highest in Europe, we have the second highest levels of fuel poverty. Don’t get me started on housing. As of 2014 after housing costs, 14.6 million people were in poverty – this is 23.2 per cent of the population, and 3.5 million of them are children (this is slightly over one in four kids). One in five families cannot afford a trip to their nearest beach.  900’000 thousand people went to the Trussell Trust in 2013 alone for food, and this is not the only food bank chain in the country.

Poverty in this country has been rising since the 1980s. We’ve been patching it up with personal debt, which went up three and a half times faster than national income in between 1977 and 2008.  But all of us – from the office for Budget Responsibility, to the Centre For Social Justice (a right wing think tank), to the Resolution Foundation ( a left wing think tank), the churches, to the schools, to the activists, to the person standing behind the person at a cashpoint who’s freaking out – we all know it’s there. It’s like a suppurating wound; it hurts, and often we can smell it. Yet something stops us from taking off the dressing and having a proper look.

EDITORS NOTE (that bit about us being able to smell it is very middle class…but we’ll let her off…she’s onside)

Conservatives who like to style themselves ‘caring’ won’t talk about poverty because they don’t think it’s real. Authentic poverty, to them, is the international measure of living on $1.25 a day; it’s the difference between being able to afford clean water and losing your children to cholera. It’s the gulf between subsistence and aspiration, the 50 cents between just about holding it together so that you don’t starve and getting at least one of your children to a point of literacy. That is true poverty, and anything else going by the name is a masquerade. Don’t complain that you’re hungry until you are starving. Don’t complain about work place conditions until you’re in Bangladesh and a building has fallen on your head. In other words, don’t complain until you are dead.


Well thanks for that Zoe and now some thoughts from the conservatives…

DAVID CAMERON SAYS (genuine quote)



Under the present government suicide rates have soared. the government response to this…

rmeme 6


In an effort to appear more down to earth George Osborn recently claimed to be a regular player of Bingo. A Newcastle resident said, “Yeah we’ve all been playing Tory bingo. Everyone is desperate for a full house so we don’t get hammered by the bedroom tax.”  

In a fresh upset it turns out many politicians have a second job – It’s called being an MP.


A man in Oldham had his benefits stopped for failing to complete a work capability assessment. Our viewers are probably thinking, ‘nothing wrong with that’, however the reason he didn’t complete the assessment is because during it he had a heart attack. EDs NOTE…(This isn’t satire this bit this is 100% TRUE)

attack 2


Ian Duncan Smith says he wants the disabled to work their way out of poverty. Despite many disabled people being able to work. It’s rumoured he recently put his foot on a drowning man to see if he’d grow gills.


News just in…The war on terror has now been officially declared as successful as the war on drugs. Zoo-zoologists have announced, “Perhaps we should have a war on pandas…and then they’d be everywhere.”


Recently we initially armed some ‘rebels’ to overthrow the Syrian government, unfortunately they turned out to be ISIS. ISIS are a direct result of our wars on the Taliban and Al Qaeda in Afghanistan and Iraq. Now we’re forming a coalition with the Taliban to overthrow ISIS and help keep the Syrian government in place. Medal of Honour was never this confusing.

Never mind here’s a photo of a sexy Fox news news 1

That’s just what people want when they’re watching genocide…To be sexually aroused.

The REAL News…episode 1. The Establishment. (With special guest Owen Jones)

In the interests of truth and in reaction to the bullshit perpetrated by our established media,  I’ve decided to start posting regular news columns here on the blog. They will hopefully be a mixture of information and some funnies. Please share far and wide.


Our first news item comes from the pages of Owen Jones’ excellent book The Establishment. Over to you Owen.

The status quo may be treated as common sense now, but future generations will surely look back with a mixture of astonishment and contempt at how British society is currently organized: the richest 1000 individuals worth £520 billion, while hundreds of thousands of people have to queue to eat in food banks; a thriving financial elite that helped plunge Brittan into a vortex of economic collapse, which was rescued by over £ 1 Trillion of public money but continues to operate much as before; a reigning dogma that treats the state as an obstacle to be eradicated and shunned, even as the state serves as the backbone for private interests; a corporate elite, dependant as it is on state largess, that refuses to contribute money to the state; a media that does not exist to inform, educate, as well as challenge all those with power, but which serves as a platform for the ambitions, prejudices and naked self interest of a small number of wealthy moguls. More startling to our descendants will be how this was passed off as normal, as entirely rational and defensible, and how institutions run by the elite attempted, with considerable success, to redirect peoples anger to those at the very bottom of society.

Thanks for that Owen. And now over to London and the Chinese state visit.


rmeme 3

The Conservatives now claim to be the party of the workers. Unfortunately for the United Kingdom, that seems to be the party of Chinese workers. They have sold out British Steel workers so China can dump cheap steel on the UK, which is currently trading on the stock exchange at £7.43 and a bag of prawn crackers per ton.

The Conservatives seem pretty laid back about letting the Redcar steel works close.  They probably think they can all just get jobs in the shipyards and coalmines.


That’s the trouble with Chinese steel…it’s so incredibly moreish. As soon as you’ve had one batch dumped on you, you immediately want some more.


The Chinese were treated to a speech on ivory hunting from Prince William. We assume he was advising them how to do it properly.


It has been noted in the press recently that the Conservative Party are now more left-wing than Jeremy Corbyn.  It’s true.  Jeremy Corbyn wants our power stations and railways built by a socialist state.  The Tories want our power stations and railways built by a communist state.


It turns out when the Tories were talking about a Northern Power House they meant that gay night club just up from the train station in Newcastle.


And now some quick stories from the up and coming BBC guiltathon Children In Need…

First Gary Barlow O.B.E. (Offshore banking expert)


The Conservatives…


Pudsy Bear…


And finally….


It’s been widely reported in the British media (And you know you can trust them kids) That Labour party leader and communist berserker Jeremy Corby refused to bow at yesterdays remembrance services despite global news coverage and footage and around 10’000 paparazzi snaps appearing to show that he did.

Even worse Corbyn (it really is hard to say his name without getting the taste of gerbils in your mouth) then refused to attend a posh VIP dinner after the service and instead opted to stay behind and meet and chat to veterans before attending another remembrance service in his own constituency. The bastard.

On another note here’s conservative MP James Warton sending out some Tweets during yesterdays service…Well at least he bowed his head.


Well that’s us for now. Join us again when we’ll be asking why there are more nuclear submarines in Scotland (4) Than MPs that actually want them there (3). Goodnight. Sleep if you can.