Green Envy

Green Envy

When I’m a grownup with knowledge and cash,

A big, fancy wrist watch and Tom Selleck tash.

I’ll never think about what it’s like to be small.

I’ll just act the prick and a complete know it all.

With my shiny red hatch back blaring Coldplay all cool,

God I can’t wait to be that fucking tool.

‘Cause it seems to be normal in the grownups I see,

To be an absolute arsehole to kids like you and me.

Disregarding our education as if it’s a joke

And being condescending even though they’re all broke.

But it’s your fucking problem, you made this mess,

We’re all out of here; it’s not worth the stress.

So when you’re sixty five and your pension is due

There’ll be no fucking money and the joke is on you.

’Cause we’ll all be in London living the dream

I guess we’re not that fucking stupid…….. or so it would seem.

Ugly Duckling???

There once was an ugly duckling, with feathers all scruffy and brown,
And all the other ducks said, "quack, my God, quack, quack, oh my God, You're too mingin' for L.A. town".

The poor little ugly duckling was laughed at and teased and he cried.
He withdrew from the word and stayed in his room and away from the world he would hide.
His gnarly rough feathers were covered in tears as he reached for the biscuit tin,
He sat there and balled as he looked in the mirror; He now had a double chin.

The years they passed by as he sat in his room, immersed in the dreams in his head.
The Pixies, Bob Dylan, Wilde and Bill Hicks, his best friends while he lay on his bed.

When Uni came round he packed up his bags. He prepared for life in a battle,
He waddled on campus despite points and sneers in a college just north of Seattle.
The classes he chose were both varied and fun and the things that he liked the most,
Like politics, arts and the history of man, way up on that Pacific coast.

He learned to play drums, even formed his own band but just of the online kind,
Too afraid they wouldn't accept his strange face, anonymity was best he did find.
But from all of this work that he did on the net, he hatched a plan one fine day,
To start a podcast with music and chat and just see where his venture might stray.

He discussed John Lennon, the Pope and Iran, his honesty won him some fans,
With humour and research and knowledge and style a change from the usual fake tans.
A few months went passed and just by word of mouth, the listeners numbers grew big.
Refreshing to hear him not speak of himself like the usual self righteous pod-pig.

A radio station not far from his flat, got wind of this show on the web
And over the phone he was offered a job, he'd be heard from L.A. to the Leb.
His wages as well, quack quack oh my God, he couldn't believe his blind luck.
By just being himself he could do just fine for such a strange and fat ugly duck.

Now in his 50's with a wonderful wife, he opens the news every day
And reads about all the ugly real life that goes on all the time in L.A.
With divorces and face lifts and prescription pills and battling the day that you die
He smiles at his wife with his four meals a day.........polished off with a nice pecan pie.

Confused Bee Enthusiast and the Dread of Colony Collapse Disorder

While sitting watching telly, late last Thursday night

I heard some tragic news, which gave me an awful fright.

The disappearance of the B, vanishing across the land.

"Who really cares though?" I thought and I dismissed it out of hand.

But then they made another point that made me jolt awake,

About the colonies we’d lose and just what was at stake.

Cause then  it got me thinking, exactly what we’d lose

If all the colonies we had would soon become old news.

India and Bangladesh, Ireland and Oz

And little Fiji out at sea, its as if it never was.

And all because the B was lost, gone from our alphabet,

It seemed so strange, I was confused and I then began to fret.

For Bobby Charlton, Benny Hill and Alexander Graham Bell,

Would be erased from history as if vanished by a spell.

The Bacon Butties, Beer and Beans would never touch our lips

Fantastic for cholesterol  and wonders for our hips.

But culturally our foods not great at the very best of times,

With Boveril and Battered Bars, all culinary crimes.

And Beacons of our great  empire, the BBC and old Big Ben,

Would not stand up for Brittishness , We’d be off to sea again.

Even us, our country, our very name Britain,

Would be gone forever, lost it seems, as if it were never written

And Blur, Kate Bush and David Bowie would never touch our ears.

Imagine if the Beatles had not been with us all those years?

So yes I guess its not a shock, the British empire's in collapse.

We’ll have to write to all the schools and change all of the maps.

We underestimate you little B, and all the things you do

I hope its not too late dear friend and that we may rescue you.

Lucky is the Dog.......................

Look

If you hit a dog with a dirty big old hammer,

I’d beat you till your teeth fell out and leave you with a stammer.

Your bowels would never work again, your piss now always leaking.

Nobody would talk to you cause your clothes are always reaking.

Because you smashed his head in and left him there to die,

You really deserve the same yourself and by fuck I’d make you cry.

Apart from  branding your face all red, blistered by a poker.

I’d tie you on a motorway, neck held tightly by a choker.

And all the cars that drove that way, would throw stones and hiss and spit

When they read the sign above your head, telling them you’re such a shit.

And you’d stand there in your pissy pants, stuttering like a fool,

I bet you’d then regret being so fucking cruel.

So why the fuck d’you do it? What the hell was in your head,

When you opened up that nice old dog, and left him there for dead?

I’d really love to know the answer to the question that I pose

But I know you’re just a scumbag and would complain about your woes.

How the government won’t buy your food or new nappies for your spawn.

Get a job and sterilise yourself, your excuses make me yawn.

On second thoughts I think I’d just like to see you on that road,

Suffering the pain you deserve you prick and paying the debt you owed.