(21 June 2006)
I was prepared for a public lecture by being hypnotised in a dentist’s chair by a man in a white coat whom I suddenly realised was Jools Holland.
I was very tense but suddenly went all loose. I opened my eyes to see Jools and a nurse with dark curly hair both laughing uproariously
‘What’s so funny?’, I asked.
The nurse said: ‘Well, we just moved all of the bad things out of your head and put in good things from mine.’
So here they are:
Wongo the Wonder Dog
(theme song for a new TV series)
Wongo the Wonder Dog
Smarter than the average cat
She can steal a bone
Eat a parking cone
And shit in your favourite hat
Wongo the Wonder Dog
Is definitely man’s best friend
She can scramble an egg
While she’s shagging your leg
She’s the living end
Wongo the Wonder Dog
Ah Wow!!
Ghosts on the Line
darling, we’re ber-ake-ing up itseeems
could be your phone, maybibby mine
listen – I’ll ring you in my dreams –
ghosts on the line
make booze, not cars, the robots cry,
down the mass production belt pours blue wine
I’m too fucked-up to reason why –
ghosts on the line
hang all your dirty laundry in a gallery
throw your clean clothes into the Serpentine
let plasticated corpses earn your salary –
ghosts on the line
the London Underground regrets to say
this train’s been stopped by a huge porcupine
who’s singing Yip-Eye-Addy-Eye-Ay-Eye-Ay –
ghosts on the line
the artist draws his love through tears
which drop and blotch that soft outline
he hasn’t seen the woman for ten years –
ghosts on the line
after I’m dead, I’ll visit you each spring
as long as you consider you’re still mine
later you may still hear me whispering –
ghosts on the line
TELL ME LIES
or Truth-Ache in the Anglo-American Empire
At the Crossroads
I built the best of England
With my brain and with my hands.
Liberty Equality Fraternity –
That’s where I took my stand,
And the people called me Old Labour
The brave heart of this land
I walked out of the smoky streets
To enjoy some country air,
But when I came to the crossroads,
I saw a weird sight there –
A man in a silver business suit
Swivelling in a black leather chair
He jumped right up and shook my hand
And giggled with mysterious glee.
Then he stared and said: ‘Old Labour,
I can tell your destiny.
I’m the Great Political Entrepreneur –
Would you like to do a deal with me?’
Well, the style of his smile and the size of his eyes
Made him look like a shopping mall.
I told him straight: ‘I’m a socialist,
I support fair shares for all.
He said: ‘Capitalism means fair shares,
Provided that you play ball.’
I said: ‘I can think of something
Capitalism can’t arrange
And that’s the common ownership
Of the means of production, distribution and exchange.
And war makes so much more profit
That the idea of peace is strange.
‘I was born for peace and justice
For every race and nationality
I’m for people, not for profit,
I want to see the children free
With no more than twelve kids in a class
Revelling in liberty.’
‘But let’s not talk about the people,’
The sophisticated stranger said.
‘You must have targets of your own –
Let’s talk about you instead.’
And my brain was enthralled by his silver voice
Though my heart was filled with dread.
‘I know you have a heart,’ said the shining voice
‘And I know you have an excellent mind.
Why not become an Entrepreneur –
Leave those people of yours behind?
You shall live in mansions and grand hotels
And be constantly wined and dined.
‘You shall have your own island and bodyguard
And your own show on TV,
And a heated pool and a gymnasium
And become a powerful Celebrity.’
‘I think I could fancy that,’ I said,
But what’s the cost going to be?’
Well, I knew. But I signed – in my own life-blood.
He extracted my soul with care
And placed it in his credit card case
And gave me his black leather chair
Then he laughed and said: ‘You are New Labour now.’
I said: ‘Thank you, Mr Blair.’
Tigers and Monkeys
(for the Campaign Against the Arms Trade)
A tiger, trying to hunt a herd of deer
is followed through the woods
by hooting monkeys in the trees,
who warn the deer:
There’s a killer coming –
Long live the monkeys!
The Doorbell
I was in bed, the silvery light of dawn
blessing our quiet suburban street,
when the window darkened,
and the doorbell rang.
Pushed my face deep in the pillow.
but the doorbell kept ringing
and there was another sound,
like the crying of a siren,
so I slopped downstairs
unbolted, unlocked, unchained
and opened the front door.
There, on the doorstep, stood the War.
It filled my front garden,
filled the entire street
and blotted out the sky.
It was human and monstrous,
shapeless, enormous,
with torn and poisoned skin which bled
streams of yellow, red and black.
The War had many millions of heads
both dead and half-alive,
some moaning, some screaming,
some whispering,
in every language known on earth,
goodbye, my love.
The War had many millions of eyes
and all wept tears of molten steel.
Then the War spoke to me
in a voice of bombs and gunfire:
I am your War.
Can I come in?
Peacetime Haiku
Try one hundred years
Without any wars at all –
Let’s see if it works!
Dust And Ashes
The Cedars of Lebanon have been stripped of their bark,
cut down to the sap, hacked down to the roots.
Now they are ashes floating over blackened villages.
Israel has locked herself in the bathroom
and is slowly cutting her own throat.
England is hunting down insurgents in Iraq
and terrorists in London,
While selling weapons to anyone who wants to kill.
The USA arms the world at an enormous profit
under the trading name of Shock and Awe.
Washington is the new Rome
whose rulers plan the domination of the world.
What if the weird Barbarians resist?
Bomb them to dust and ashes.
Before we
’re through
the whole world of Aliens
will become a desert.
Yes the buildings, the cedars, the animals
and the people will be one dust storm,
a nuclear dust storm swirling round the world..
And when all the men and women and children are dead
in Dubai, Chicago, Beijing, Sydney, Rio de Janeiro and Paris –
when they are all dead
and all the animals
and all the trees
and all the birds
and all the insects –
their ashes will fly in their hot agony
and descend upon the waters,
and the poison ashes will murder the oceans
and all life will be wiped out –
goodbye, my love.
The Question
a favourite pond on Hampstead Heath.
a village in Lebanon, after an air raid.
peace or global suicide?
you decide.
watching over the pond, a wise heron.
in the village, a crushed house.
peace or global suicide?
you decide.
the heron takes flight as three dogs splash into the pond.
in the ruins of the house, a rescue party.
peace or global suicide?
you decide.
three dogs gallop out of the pond.
one of the rescue party shouts, Come here!
peace or global suicide?
you decide.
the dogs shake themselves and all the children laugh.
like a midwife, the rescuer draws a baby out of a heap of dust.
peace or global suicide?
you decide.
children and dogs scamper over the Heath.
the baby is covered with cement dust.
peace or global suicide?
you decide.
Is it all right to Kill People?
I was watching the war
with my Mum and my Dad.
I said: is it all right to kill people?
Dad said: If you’re a soldier in a war
it’s OK to kill enemy soldiers
otherwise they’ll kill you.
Is that the only time it’s right to kill?
Well if a burglar broke in
and held a knife to Mum’s throat –
it would be OK to kill him
How would I kill him?
Well, if you had a gun
you could shoot him.
I might hit Mum.
You could edge round from behind her
and shoot the burglar.
Can I have a gun?
No.
Then what am I supposed to do about Mum?
You’d better sneak out and phone 999.
Is it OK to kill a maths teacher?
Only if he’s going to kill you.
I think my maths teacher
is trying to kill me
very gradually with maths.
Why do enemy soldiers want to kill us?
Because they’ve been taught
we want to kill them.
So they want to kill us first.
So are you teaching me
they want to kill me
so I’ll want to kill them first?
Listen, son.
You’re not the kind who ever learns
to clean and load and fire a gun.
What kind am I, Dad?
You’re the kind who asks questions.
You’re the kind who gets killed.
Peace and Pancakes
(A song, with music by Andrew Dickson, from the epic play, The Fear Brigade, first performed at the Global Village, near Maidstone, Kent, on 7 August 2006 to 5000 international young people. The play was commissioned by the Woodcraft Folk.)
the old world began
with a big bang
a big bang, a big bang
the new world begins
with a big song
a big song, a big song
it’s got a strong beat
like your heartbeat
so use your two feet
to stomp out the beat
of a big song
of pancakes and peace
of a big song
everybody sing along
everybody loves pancakes
and everybody loves peace
you can find pancakes all round the world
north south west and east
dosas for breakfast in India
with spicy veg in the middle
Canadian maple syrup
on buckwheat cakes hot off the griddle
long live peace and pancakes!
the Greeks make pancakes with semolina
Russians make their blinis with yeast
red-hot quesidillas in Mexico City
yes pancakes turn any meal into a feast
long live peace and pancakes!
in Beijing they fill pancakes
with plum sauce and roast duck
every Shrove Tuesday in England
my pancake always gets stuck
bad luck!
long live peace and pancakes!
the Koreans call their pancakes pa’chon
and cook ’em with sesame seeds
the Romans serve cannelloni
pancakes are the banquet everyone needs
long live peace and pancakes!
South Africa’s banana chapatis
Brittany’s crêpes suzettes
every woman and man from Chile to Japan
they’re eating all they can get
everybody loves pancakes
and everybody loves peace
you can find pancakes all round the world
north south west and east
long live the planet earth
long live the animals
long live the birds and fishes
long live the forests and the oceans
long live the man
long live the woman
who use both courage and compassion
long live their children
long live peace
long live peace
long live peace and pancakes
To Whom It May Concern Remix
Come all ye –
wartbrain psychics
with asteroid sidekicks
prostate agents
and plastic Cajuns
royal doggerellas
cluster bombsellers
alternative surgeons
torturesport virgins
heavy vivisectionists
columnists, Golumnists,
priests of the beast
who are secretly policed
by highranker bankers
playing pranks with tankers
ghost advisers
death advertisers
vampire preachers
sucked-dry teachers
beheaded dead bodies
of blank-hearted squaddies
billionaire beauticians
fishing for positions
from poison politicians
with obliteration missions –
I’m alone, I’m afraid
And I need your aid
can’t you see – can’t you see – can’t you see?
I was run over by the truth one day
Ever since the accident I’ve walked this way
So stick my legs in plaster
Tell me lies about Vietnam
Heard the alarm clock screaming with pain
Couldn’t find myself, so I went back to sleep again
So fill my ears with silver
Stick my legs in plaster
Tell me lies about Vietnam
Every time I shut my eyes, all I see is flames
I made a marble phone-book, and I carved all the names
So coat my eyes with butter
Fill my ears with silver
Stick my legs in plaster
Tell me lies about Vietnam
I smell something burning, hope it’s just my brains
They’re only dropping peppermints and daisy-chains
So stuff my nose with garlic
Coat my eyes with butter
Fill my ears with silver
Stick my legs in plaster
Tell me lies about Vietnam
Where were you at the time of the crime?
Down by the Cenotaph, drinking slime
So chain my tongue with whisky
Stuff my nose with garlic
Coat my eyes with butter
Fill my ears with silver
Stick my legs in plaster
Tell me lies about Vietnam
You put your bombers in, you put your conscience out
You take the human being, and you twist it all about
So scrub my skin with women
So chain my tongue with whisky
Stuff my nose with garlic
Coat my eyes with butter
Fill my ears with silver
Stick my legs in plaster
Tell me lies about –
Iraq
Burma
Afghanistan
BAE Systems
Israel
Iran
Tell me lies Mr Bush
Tell me lies Mr Blairbrowncameron
Tell me lies about Vietnam
MY LITERARY CAREER SO FAR
My Literary Career So Far
Come on Everybody Page 35