Come on Everybody

by Adrian Mitchell

(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