Tea is not just a drink,
it is a fundamental human right.

It makes me think
that there might actually be a God.

See, if I was told
it was grown in Elysian Fields,
and brewed by Jesus, I’d believe it.

Look at it! Take a sip!

It goes down, brown and smooth, Continue reading

Make Love To Ireland

I want to make love to you Ireland,
one last time before I go.
Place a kiss in every county,
run my fingers through your hedgerows.
Lick you all around your outline,
you’ve got such a sexy coast:
Malin Head To Mizen Head,
tastes like Cheese & Onion Tayto.

I want to ride you like a lovely horse,
I want to take that horse to France, Continue reading

10 Things to Remember on International Women’s Day

1/ Dads, when you’re looking after your own kids it’s not called “babysitting.”

2/ Once she is over three she is not a “baby,” once she is over eighteen she is not a “girl,” and she was never, ever a “chick” – that’s not respect, that’s just basic biology.

3/ However, nobody puts baby in the corner.

4/ Never ask a childless woman in a relationship, “Will we hear the pitter patter of little feet soon?” Some women can’t have children. And some women don’t want to have children, on the sound basis that children don’t pitter or patter: they piss and poo all over your peace of mind.  Continue reading

Pasta and Meat

“Breakfast,” I said to Sophie. “Pasta and Meat,” she said. Normally I would say no, but it was Saturday morning, and my parenting principles are a little weaker on the weekends. I found myself saying one of those sentences I never thought I would say before I became Sophie’s dad: “First Rice Krispies, then Pasta and Meat.”

Martha and I have tried to get her to say, “Spaghetti Bolognese,” or “Spag Bol,” but Sophie is not one for synonyms – or else she has something against the Italians. I’m pretty sure she’s not racist: I suspect she just thinks about words-for-things the same way that most sensible human beings think of the Trump Presidency: she doesn’t see any need for a second term.

Continue reading

Sing it for her

If he said, ‘I don’t like The Cranberries,’
you wouldn’t shift him.
Not even a little bit.
(Or maybe you did shift him, but I bet it was shit.)

Born in the 70s, dragged up in the 80s,
but the 90s! The 90s were the fucking business.
And as far as you were concerned,
The Cranberries were it!
With that world-straddling Limerick Lilt.
Your first song, your first love, your first gig.

The songs would still bring you back,
The dodgy haircuts, the even dodgier slacks.
Bringing the wrong boys back to your flat.

‘Oh my life is changing everyday
In every possible way.’
That’s how you felt!
All those years ago
Discovering yourself,
Getting your heart broken
When the only thing that helped
Was screaming along to Zombie
Until you had no voice left

Today, Dolores died,
Far, far too young
So much of her life,
Left unsung.
So, tonight,
Put those old CDs on,

And sing it for her.


To Be Continued…

America’s number one villain, GunCrime, had struck. Again.

“We need a hero,” said Most of America: “This sounds like a job for GunControl.”

“I’m ready to go whenever you are,” said GunControl, very sensibly.

“Actually, we have a better idea,” said The Politicians.

Instead, they despatched their number one GunCrime-fighting duo: Thoughts & Prayers.

“Fear not, citizens, I am going to think about this,” said Thoughts
“I, too, am going to think about this,” said Prayers, “but in my own very special way.”

However, despite the best efforts of Thoughts & Prayers, GunCrime managed to escape. Again. (I know, it’s hard to believe.)

“I am very sad,” said Thoughts.
“I, too, am sad,” said Prayers.

“There’s nothing more you could have done. You’ll get him next time,” said The Politicians.

“Er…maybe I could have a go next time?” suggested GunControl, helpfully.

“Shhhh, now is not the time to talk about that, can’t you see that people are sad,” said The Politicians.

“Are you for real?” said Most of America, and The Rest of The World.

Apparently, they were.