Grimbeau

Scroodles

The Joy of Dudgeon Saxo

 

So, Farewell then, Robert K E E

grand EE old broadcaster.

an historian of note

to boot EE

Kept a fine thick head of hair

under which EE penned

A short history of raised EyEbrows

& A long drawn out short

Ossary of Hibernia

uneven handed, craggy featured whisky puffed spade of flab spills over purple pinned back sable silk scarved collar maxi purple glam rock bold school tie peeps shout in vogue, milk bottle top button unhinged in trad jazz warrior angry lib fulminating at  therms and the causes thrEE of…

Slan Abhaile

bop

Touched
by a
film of frost,
th e
chill cascades
Waspishly
fro m the fanlight
Squirts
Little nips
O f morning,
Bikini weather.
Motorway pile up
neuronal
city women
fret more
about how
they look
than wee fish do.

Pastel shy-blue, sky-blue
off beige clouds

Twenty eight thousand
Miles out
just now

A space boulder passed
by my
Shoulder.

Chitterlings

crunchy nut cornflakes. But the cars. The cars are such a giveaway, roaring, strutting, revving in the frost.

–Brrrm, it’s a cold one, Cleo.

–Yes, indeed it is, fair Romeo. Let’s go for a spin.

For it is well documented that I detest dark mornings. Only last week I spoke passionately on that very same subject to a captive audience of soiled mugs and spoons as the kettled steamed and coffee reeked with promise of chitterling nibbles

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