Bored Meeting

For all the homogeneous
Boards and executives
Need the bottle
Shaken up
For the needle
The cultural injectionist
Presents
The mash butty
Covered in
Catsup

Pieku

Fake mince season nears

Santa baby’s treason is

Not at all gravy

Black & Shite Friday

Black & Shite Friday

Clock on to this:
Where
The wind behind
Black Friday sails,
Stinks no end,
Where
Human rights fail.

Where
If your gender
Makes you sick,
This time of month?
Tough shit!
Where
You’ve worked
12 straight
Docked toilet breaks?
‘S not good enough, is it?!

Where
No fucks are given
For mouths you feed,
As rows of yous
Top table wait,
There’s none
For your plate,
My mate.
Fuck off home,

Hands off our crumbs,
You’ve zero hours and
Six strikes son,
Where
Pros are nothing,
It’s all just cons.
The tannoy barks
This battery life,
Your card is marked
They’re watching you
‘Scum’.

Clock out to this:
Where
The road to Wigan pier
Is set,
Graft three more
Without your pay, or
There’ll be no work
Tha’ ‘morrow, pet.
Where
It’s workhouse rule,
It’s a life threatener,
Down Ashley’s
Shirebrook
Detention centre.

#AshleyOut

Sleep Shopping aged 13

Here’s an often visited
Town bus station
A teenage
Brain combobulation

It’s 12:15
There’s too much noise
It’s Toys ‘R’ Us
Without the toys
It’s BoyzIIMen
CD cellophane
It’s 12:15
Have a lie-in again

And your eyelids
Are darts
From JJB Sports
Your engine’s
Stolen from Ivor
You saw a dream
In a magazine
And it only cost a fiver

The ever rain
Plays havoc on your trainers
The market smells of bacon
Hair’s a disgrace
But grows a shaver setting
By the time
That you awaken

Kicking burgers
Round the cold town centre
When the
Smell of lurkers
Entertainment that’s
A bus day tripper
Where’s the punks
Outside Boots
You saw as a nipper?

You wonder what
The time is for
And why the scallies spit
Staring at the football tops
Wishing you w’ good at it

You know the names of skateboard tricks
But no clue how try them
You know the names of girls at school
Fuck-all about them either

Taste in music awful
Sense of direction shit
A Saturday lone ranger
The poll tax what is it?

With a sports bag full of questions
A pocket devoid of answers
When pubs were as much use
As libraries
Before you learnt to dance
Son

Quilted for Ashley

Is your jacket quilted?
Your bog roll,
The same pattern?
While your Sports Direct derrière
Does prepare,
On the golden throne
You’re sat on?

Pants by ankles, hoping
The golden retriever,
Doesn’t leave you,
Jilted on the John.
After you wipe your arse
With our season tickets,
Just remember who
You’ve shat on.

Time is tight

Time is one up before 5 minutes of extra
Time is five down after 5 minutes of closing
Time is TIGHT

Bonfire Night Tanka

Remember it’s that
Time of year to remember
This’ll show ’em what
Remember to set fire to
How much money that you’ve got