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That’s enough larking around singing and dancing – madness!

POP! lyrics for poetic examples! (back o’the ‘ead with a plastic cup!)

and baggy trousers… one the dog’s not scoffed – archival CD that is… not piracy… I’d take a chance they’d agree Suggs’n’all… (but I’ll be in trouble with Colleen cos her nice little beaded bracelets in bits and dog-g’d’amn’IT and I’ve yet to find all the links! Living room looks like a barn, kitchen looks like a shed! Explicit lyrics – I did go for the zip wallet and Eminem (I hear he goes for his often AND I’m not mentioning archival CDs there, unless I’m honest and chatting with the man his-sen* – but that’s what I came out with for hair of a dog… and i DO wish there was a bourbon for breakfast (but I mean cookies honest – only we call them biscuits as I’m sure the wholeworld knows and don’t need reminding…)

[*as well as sounding like a snake, either of us i mean, his-sen is Nottinghamian for himself, would you believe… and pronounced more hiz senn in some parts by people who are really trying with a bit less slacky talk; I’m not sure it’s how the city-folk’d spell it but they wouldn’t even tell you if you ask cos they all disagree on such triviality as spellings for dialect… and I’m not gonna mention County or it’d be back to football and there’s always an argument…]

…and so begins another weary day… but I had  a good boogie and a bit of a wail and I actually stayed tea-total for more than half a year, luckily never awake tht long – not that I have a problem with alcohol, other than not getting and being too polite to accept drinks from a stranger while I can’t reciprocate – although there was enough loo roll for this party at the weekend that no-one had to dash for the corner shop – good thing cos there’s not one, just a little row of a near useless half handful stores at one end of the village and another collection just round the bend and eight miles of running on empty later and I’ll be just fine… and I’ll sleep well for sure!

I keep NOT writing anything I mean to! That’s the problem with a homework sheet that seems to suggest you’re doing poetry by pictures, maths, magic, and this WATER prompts reminded you of drainage and plumbing!

Seriously, from my notes made at theory class:-

“so… confused like Soap…the long way round the plug and right down the drain left by the gulley…water…(arrived by that’s the way to go…) no form yet… just lots of dodgy word…”

[Soap. Joey!]


“…extending the task – i’ll be a while managing seventeen syllables in three lines!”

So,  a few hours to drop-in at any ole class for the ACTUAL poetic attempting bit, but I’ll probably sit at the back and shrink, pretend to have laryngitis and broken digits or something, wave a droplet and wave a fistful of rough notes from TheoryFairySecretary (Ed) for that plastic cup and having to spend a penny for not having the dime…

I’m not sure I like tutor types giving out three lines each at midnight and how many poor souls can’t sleep for spellings with poetry and the multiduous meanderings with meaning we can find ourselves glued to…