Tag Archives: fun

Manc hester Library Revisited

Its a deliberate mistake in the title before you ask.

The Geordies [aka me] and the Mancs [aka them] have a good relationship overall. Whenever we get together, the banter is great and seldom goes too far. The relationship with the Scousers [Liverpudlians] is not always as jovial. There is a football [soccer to the heathens] rivalry that seems to go deeper than mere sport. But Mancs, Geordies and Scousers know their football and love the game. Some of the chanting that goes on at a match can be heard to take the piss out of the other side, if you ignore the ones concerning Munich and Hillsborough

So the picture prompt over at Magpie Tales was a real chance for me to incorporate some of that rivalry and mickey taking into poem form [sort of] and in no way is any of it to be taken seriously. Its all written in jest, I swear. I refer to Mancs as robbers, crooks, illiterate inbreds [that part is true ;-)] and the Scousers as all being out of work [signing on to claim benefits] but I can assure you, they would all say the same about me given the chance.

Central Library, Manchester, UK, Robin Gosnall


Manc hester is a wonderful place
where Mancs just love to breed
They even gave them a library
But the ijits cannot read

They built the Etihad stadium
And also the Theatre of Dreams
Mancs dont know about libraries
But they know their football teams

One half of the cities red
The other half is blue
But dont ask em where the library is
They wouldn’t have a clue

There’s a bunch of Mancs called Oasis
They write music thats considered cool
They never visited the library
And they never went to school

You get a canny pint of Boddies
Down at the old Sandbar
You dont get that in the library though
But they do a decent cup o’ char

Mancs like to call the Scousers thick
And tell them to go sign on
Tell a Manc theres a job at the library
And down the road they’re gone

You see a library is a place of learning
A building full of books
The reason you wont find Mancs there is
Because they are all crooks

They would steal a penny or a pound
Or sell their granny for a score
They never go to the library
As they are too busy robbin’ stores

The Mancs aint that bad really
If you ignore the robbin’ and incest
They know how to take a joke
As its all being said in jest

But its true about the library
No Manc would be seen dead in there
They dont take kindly to strangers either
So if you meet a Manc beware!

Etihad Stadium: Home of Manchester City FC [Blue]
Theatre of Dreams: Home of Manchester United FC [Red]
Ijit: Slang for idiot
Oasis: Manchester Brit Rock band and proper numpties [like an ijit but worse]
Boddies: Slang for Boddingtons Beer
Char: Slang for cup of tea
Sign On: Unemployed people have to sign on for welfare payments
Score: Sum of money equal to £20


Going for a Song

It’s a dog eat dog world out there,
Especially for the night prowlers,
Who are often just riff raff anyway.

I was driving down the highway to hell,
And I fell into rock n roll damnation,
But hey, hell aint a bad place to be.

I was often shot down in flames,
Thats what high voltage can do to a live wire,
It was just a touch too much.

So I asked, Can I sit next to you girl?
I only want to sink your pink, she slapped my face,
Maybe I should just ride on, like a good rocker does.

Did you hear hells bells ringing last night?
They shook me all night long,
I’m sure it wasn’t an overdose that did it.

I went to see that  woman, Rosie,
I said, what do you do for money honey?
She just gave me the jack,

So here, have a drink on me,
Give that dog a bone, and
Lets just go down and do the bad boy boogie.

One last time!

Submitted to One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry.

For those not in the know, the jack is a slang term for the clap [Venereal Disease] or I suppose a STD  to be politically correct.

I hope someone understands what this is all about, or where its roots are 😉

Bare in Mind

Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, Nobody

This is a little story about four people named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody.

There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it.

Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it.

Somebody got angry about that because it was Everybody’s job.

Everybody thought that Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn’t do it.

It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done

The title is not incorrect, its a play on words.

I have no idea who wrote this, but it wasn’t me. I just think its something we need reminding of from time to time.

Who is Jack Schitt?

“Who is Jack Schitt?”, you ask. Many people are at a loss for a response when someone says “You don’t know Jack Schitt!” Well now it is possible for you to intellectually handle this situation……………………….

Jack Schitt is the only son of Awe Schitt and Oh Schitt. Awe Schitt, the fertilizer magnate married Oh Schitt, the owner of Knee Deep In Schitt Inc.

Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt and the deeply religious couple produced 6 children : Holie Schitt, Fulla Schitt, Giva Schitt, Bull Schitt, Deep Schitt and Dipp Schitt.

Against her parents wishes, Deep Schitt married Dumb Schitt, the High School dropout.

After 15 years of marriage, Jack and Noe Schitt divorced. Noe Schitt later re-married a Mr. Sherlock and because some of her kids were living with them, she wanted to keep her previous name. She was then known as Noe Schitt – Sherlock.

Dipp Schitt married Loda Schitt and they produced a nervous son – Chicken Schitt.

Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt were inseparable throughout their childhood and subsequently married the Happens sisters in a dual ceremony. The local newspaper ran the story ‘The Schitt Happens Wedding’. The Schitt Happens chidren are Dawg Schitt, Byrd Schitt and Horse Schitt.

Bull Schitt, the prodigal son, left home to tour the world and recently returned with his new Italian wife Pisa Schitt.

So now, when someone says “You don’t know Jack Schitt!”……………………………..you can correct them. 

I dont know who wrote this one either, just find it hilariously amusing.

A Dog named Sex

When I went to City Hall to renew my dog’s license I told the clerk I wanted a license for Sex. He said, “I’d like one too!” Then I said, “But this is a dog.” He said he didn’t care what she looked like. Then I said, “You don’t understand. I’ve had Sex since I was nine years old.” He winked at me and said, “You must have been quite a kid.”

When I got married and went on my honeymoon I took my dog with me. I told the hotel clerk I wanted a room for my wife and myself, and a special room for Sex. He said, “You don’t need a special room for Sex. As long as you pay your bill, we don’t care what you do.” I said, “Look, you don’t seem to understand. Sex keeps me awake at night.” The clerk said, “Funny, I have the same problem.”

Well, one day I entered Sex in a contest but before the competition began the dog got loose and ran away. Another contestant asked me why I was just standing there looking disappointed. I told him I had planned to have Sex in the contest. He said, “Wonderful! If you sell tickets you’ll clean up!” “But you don’t understand”, I said. “I want to have Sex on TV.” He said, “They already have that on Cable. It’s no big deal any more.”

Well my wife and I decided to separate, so we went to court to fight for custody of the dog. I said to the judge, “Your Honor, I had Sex before I was married.” The Judge said, “The courtroom is not a confessional. Please stick to the facts.” Then I told him that after I was married Sex left me. He said, “Me too.”

Well last night Sex ran away again, and I spent hours looking all over for him. A cop came over to me and asked, What are you doing in this alley at four o’clock in the morning?” I said, “I’m looking for Sex.”

My case comes up soon.

Just a little something to help pass the day with a guffaw and a smile.

The Mystery Is?

I just played around with some titles and lines and threw them together and tried to play on words here and there. Part of reading will be trying to see if you know the movie referred to in the stanza. That should give a little more to the reader other than just lines of words. Its just for fun, not a serious piece, because Friday is Fun Day.

The mystery is,
What if I had taken the blue pill?
Is ignorance really bliss?

The mystery is,
What if my father had not been shot that night,
Would I still be Batman?

The mystery is,
If you never said Betelgeuse 3 times,
Would I really exist?

The mystery is,
When I said “I’ll be back”,
Did I ever return?

The mystery is,
When I asked you to make my day punk,
Did you?

The mystery is,
What if Sam didn’t play it again,
Would time still go by?

The mystery is,
If I frankly didn’t give a damn,
Would you still have Gone with the Wind?

The mystery is,
If in space, no one can hear you scream,
Did you?

The mystery is,
Are you talkin’ to me? Are you talkin’ to me?
Then who the fuck were you talkin’ to?

The mystery is,
If you prayed for a quick death, which you didn’t get,
Would I be Blonde?

The mystery is,
I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.
Would I still wear a ring?

The mystery is,
If Mickey told Mallory she was a natural,
Would they still have been born killers?

Submitted to Friday Poetically

Angry Young Man

I have been thinking a fair bit about my parents recently. I have not spoken to either of them in years now, how long? I really dont know, four maybe five maybe more.

I come from a somewhat dysfunctional family. My parents split when I was still too young to remember it all. Oh I heard the stories. My dear father was only small, but had a temper that would snap whenever he saw fit. I was told he threw my mother downstairs when she was pregnant with my sister. He was prone to a friday night drink and he could never hold it. Then he got home, no money left from a good drinking session and gambling. He never could pick a winner. So he had little influence really on my infant years. I saw him every saturday afternoon for a few hours, if he was in the country. We could go months without seeing him when he worked abroad.

When the split happened, for obvious reasons, my mother took up with a man 3 doors away. We knew his kids, we played with them for gods sake. He was married, obviously, but that didn’t stop her, or them. The joke is/was, he was/is also a violent bastard. I have lost count of the times we sat on the stairs listening at night to the arguments which always ended with him smacking my mother. She had a mouth on her and never knew when to quit. I am not condoning anything here, just explaining. Its no wonder I swear like I do, I was well trained!

One particular night, when this new relationship was still in its young days, my father turned up, drunk, or close as, and him and my soon to be step father set about each other with knives, fuckin pussies, whats wrong with fists? are they reserved for women and children only? They both got locked up and fined. Served em right, great example huh.

When they finally got married, my step father had a win on the football pools. £11,000 was a lot back then. The first thing they did was move house. Very middle class [inverted snobs, the pair of em] and that when life turned bad for me.

I hated the man with a vengence. I never missed a chance to taunt him. I could run fast in thos days, lol. He worked shofts down the coal mines. Strong bastard, but not too quick. I would come in from school and turn my music up full tilt when he was sleeping off the night shift. Yes, I was a little shit half the time. I often got grounded. With a few bruises to show for my troubles. But I would still climb out my bedroom window and piss off and stay out all night.

Anyway, theres some background. I dont want sympathy or pity, that was life and thats how it was. I just accepted it.

One night, after a bad beating, I decided it was time to leave. I always did a paper round so was always out early. I knicked some cash and some smokes and a few bits of food and did a runner. Me and a mate of mine were avid egg collectors, so I knew my teritory well. A few miles away, along the embankment of the canal, was a good place to hide. I got there, made a fire and settled in for the long haul. Problem was, that night it pissed it down [rained hard] and I was soaking wet and cold. I was 11 and a long way from home. I knew there was a house close by and used the outhouses there for shelter. The old fella who lived there found me asleep the following morning and called the coppers [police]. I did another runner, lol. Good runner in those days. The coppers found me eventually and took me home. I told my mother and step father to fuck off and said there was no way I was going back there.

So my dear father said he would take me in. So off I went. New home, new village, new trouble. I never could stay out of trouble. I got in with the bad boys [smoking always lead you to the bad crowd, they always had smokes]. I was expelled from 2 schools. Always in fights, not just with kids either. I was used to y step father and teachers held no fears. One even went for me with a metre ruler that he used on the blackboard. Mug!

Anyway, after yet another fight with my old man, I legged it again. I loved the headlock, I was good at it. My old man, he bit me and scratched me, lol. How can you respect someone like that?

At the time I was in bother with the law. I had a social worker, my own!! and she found me foster parents. Rcih people who got that way fostering kids. They had three kids of their own, then two long term kids in care, twins and me, a screwed up teenager. I got taken back there one night by the local police and thought that was me, on my way. But they stuck with me [for the money]? I left school at 15, they just could not cope with me. I found a small job, crap pay, but some money was better than none. Then got arrested [again] and sent to a secure unit for two weeks and that changed me. I hated it, completely hated it. I was like a caged animal. I could not get out quick enough. I was in court and got a hefty fine to pay, 100 hours detention, 100 hours attendance and bound over the keep the peace, or it was lock up time again.

Around this time I found glue sniffing. Man that shit was good. Took me away to a place I didn’t care what happened and knew nothing of it either. I was addicted to it. Being in care, you had regular medicals. The local doc asked me if I had tried sniffing petrol [no, not when the cars moving] and that gave me something else to sniff, lol. No glue? go siphon some petrol [was all leaded in those days]. So a full time glue sniffer and part time petrol sniffer and then found dope and other drugs like speed and poppers. Oh and I found I liked to drink as well, lol. I could drink most people under the table. Thats no boast, no brag, it was just how it was. So drink and drugs did not mix that well, but I got by. I also found I had inherited my dear fathers temper. I spent a long long time hating myself. I took a vow, never to hit a woman and I have stuck to that vow to this day. Fuck, I have been close, I have wanted to, but somehow I stopped myself.  I have not stuck to much in my life, but that is one thing I have and I am proud of it.

Anyway, stuck in a small village, no jobs, no prospects, life was only going on way, down! We were all the same, nothing to do but drink, smoke, do whatever drugs we had, sniff whatever and get into bother. How else do you fund your lifestyle with no money? I never did house or people, but did plenty of offices [petty cash always available]. The local coppers knew who we were and who did what and when. Thats village life. You cant fart without someone knowing about it. So we had to be smart, always one step ahead. But that was life and you just got on with it.

But I got the chance to get out of it. I grasped it with both hands and moved to where I live now. That was what saved me I have come to realise. Without that, I know where I was headed, one way ticket. B ut I was lucky, I got an escape route and took it. One of my old mates is dead now. The LSD did it for him. A couple have been in and out of prison and a few I have no idea what happened to them. Its all second and third hand information, so you never know how reliable it is.

So what the hell has all this got to do with my parents really?

Well, although I didn’t know it at the time, it was my mother who instigated my move north. I have thought a lot about that. I was angry, very angry when I found out, but now, I am not so sure. In some ways, she saved me, from myself more than anything. She is not and never was a good mother. Selfish cow most of the time, but, I still have her to thank for getting me out of hell. My father, I dont know, presume he is ok. I went to see him about 8-9 yrs ago. He opened the door and looked at me. He said, and I quote,

” I know your face from somewhere, let me try and place you”

I was somewhat lost for words. I told him I was his fuckin son! I went in, had a cuppa, talked about nothing and left. Not heard from him since and dont want to really. I get second hand info from my brother now and then.

But also one thing that I have discovered is that mental health problems seem to run in the family.

My uncle saw a shrink for yrs. Rich man, beautiful wife, own business, yacht, but never enough it would seem. I lived with him for 3 months when I first moved up here. I worked on his house and office and ended up staying.

My brother recently had a nervous breakdown. He is stupid and stays with a wife who beats him up when she feels like it. She is a real psycho when she refuses to take her meds. I would have broken my vow by now if with her, for sure. But he endures her and a son who has Aspergers [recently diagnosed at 10 yrs old].

My little, big sis, had some severe mental health issues in her teens. Various suicide attempts, bad relationships, bad drugs and time in the nut house. She has found a good man now and he is so laid back he is almost horizontal. He is good for her and for once she seems happy.

I have just had a horrendous year with depression. Only now am I coming out of it. I have had a very good psychologist helping me and for now, I am doing ok. I want to stay that way if possible. But with all that history, is it any wonder I am not of completely sound mind, lol. Oh I can laugh at much of it now. I have a very tollerant partner [I will tell you about her some day] and a beautiful granddaughter who lifts me everytime I see her and a step son [I regard him as my own, we are good mates] who is doing ok. Good job, good partner, gorgeous daughter, lol, so life is not so bad really is it?

But, thinking about all this crap, lead me to write yet another poem that is biographical in some ways [the temper] but not in others [the violence] and just wanted to share that if I may.

Angry Young Man

Anger, passionate anger,
Like ripples on a pond,
Welcome my old comrade,
Of you I am so fond,
You never leave me,
High and dry like love can do,
You are my true soulmate,
We fit so well us two,
Peas in a pod,
Hand in pocket, deep,
Anger, passionate anger,
You are mine to keep,
The mist turns red,
Slowly and then descends,
Like the torrent of a waterfall,
Forever we are friends,
Words flow forth,
Upon a tide of hate it rolls,
Spewing vitriol like acid,
Losing all control,
Anger, passionate anger,
Like a lover in a tryst,
Lustfully together,
In each other we exist,
Rising, rising, rising,
Fist clenching to a ball,
Ready to strike out at you,
Sneering as you fall,
Just a woman,
Unequal in every way,
Just a woman,
No difference what you say,
Beat you down,
Keep you there,
Trapped in my snare,
Esacape? Its a dream,
Or nightmare,
Bitch, listen,
So easy to scare,
This is your life,
This is what you chose,
This is your life,
This chapter draws to its close.

My mother, silly cow, is still with my step father, who recently [3 yrs ago] took to beating her up again. She is not blameless. She has been having an affair and he found out. I wont go down there or speak to her while she is with him. I think I would quite possibly kill him if I saw him, or close to. I pity her for chosing a nice house and possessions over happiness. She is miserable, not in good health and she only has herself to blame. But I am starting to feel guilty about all that when I think that she was the one who was responsible for me being here now.

So there ya go, my life in a few paragraphs, lol. Thankfully and hopefully, I can claw my life back from illness and start to live again. But sometimes, we just have to be thankful for very small mercies that come our way.

Toodle Pip