F***wit Wayne

This poem was composed in the library. I should explain that at the time I was under pressure, stressed and could quite easily have popped. Its at this point when some idiot entered on his mobile phone and he wasn't talking. He was bellowing. Everyone in the Library turned as he argued with the missus, without so much as the common courtesy to leave the room. I named him Wayne and this is dedicated to him.

Now let me explain
I'll try to be succinct.
I came to the library
and was already on the brink
of losing my own sanity,
so let me clarify
without using profanity
the problem and what I think.

See, I'm sat here typing
and I'm struggling to care
about anyone elses problems
as I'm tearing out my hair
at the unalterable prospect
of writing more words,
when this f***wit Wayne
(no swearings gone, oh no)
for the lack of a better word
comes walking through, straight past me
making no attempt not to be heard.
He's got his mobile phone,
he's talking to his 'bird',
at least I presume this
as at first he calls her 'babe'
which I'm sure is a pigs name
so how it is a compliment is a point to be made.

Anyway I digress,
This f***wit Wayne
as this is clearly his name
is now arguing witth his dame
without sharing the same courtesy
expressed by the others
who, like me, are stuck in a book
attempting to read it cover to cover.
Yet Wayne has chosen his spot
and christ, its right next to me!
Just a quick study session
wasn't meant to be.
So try as I might
I can't help but listen in,
either through my own nosiness
or the fact the waynes making a f***ing din.

Now, Wayne has a problem
with lets call her Claire.
(This is nothing on the name
just to make sure I'm being fair.)
But Claire from what I can decifer
is about as eloquant as Wayne
and he won't deny her,
the fact that she has problems and he is to blame.

It starts with a "Wha'? Wha' did I do?"!
Apart from talking to loud in the bloody library
flashes across my tounge
and I almost speak out
before deciding that would be wrong.
Wayne cries out "WHO?"
in a somewhat unintelligible shout
before leaning back, hiding
under his superficial post-adolescent pout.

Call me presumptuous
but this happens everyday
between these two idiots
with nothing of any real worth to say.
There is clearly no passion
there is clearly no clout,
this relationship started with sex in a downstairs toilet
or a nightclub cloakroom, there can't be any doubt.

Now, Claire says Wayne has been seeing other girls
How this could be remains to be seen
as Wayne looks like a mouldy pile of potatoes
and I doubt Claire is a 14 year olds wet dream.
But she says he tried it on,
with her mate Michaela.
He denies it vigourously,
explaining that he's never even met her.

Now my tensions are high, I'm running out of sympathy
for dearest Wayne and his plight
but silence is golden
as I don't really fancy a fight.

But inside I scream
why do this to yourself?!
being this wound up
can not be good for your health.
Theres clearly a lack of trust involved
this much is clear
but allow me to offer some advice
put forward a suggestion, an idea....
Leave the library!

Desperate Jeremy?

This week public outcry raised its vindictive, somewhat hydra-esc head. In a week where an estimated two million people decided to voice their anger toward the current Con-Lib government it seems to have taken a back seat to what I will refer to as Clarkson-gate. Perhaps Clarkson-gate mark thirty two may be more appropriate due to amount of trouble the man has been on the end of the “politically correct” brigade for as long as he has been spouting controversy on the screen. Whether or not that has been properly deserved is another question, this discussion is about the recent tirade against the “tall shouty one from top gear”.

On the BBC One Show the Doncaster born car fanatic seems to have finally pushed others too hard. His comments about the Union strikers being “executed in front of their family” caused over 21,000 people to complain and Unison (the country’s biggest public service union) calling for his sacking.

It’s worth mentioning that there were only 5,000 complaints on the day of broadcast yet once the press got hold with its Bullterrier like grip this almost quadrupled.  Also worth mentioning that he actually said on air, that the comments made were not his views and let’s be honest anyone who couldn’t see that it was a pop at the bureaucracy of the BBC is devoid of common sense or a sense of humour.  

I am a fan of Jeremy Clarkson. On the odd occasion he does get very close to the knuckle in terms of his on screen comments. This is what I like about him. Controversy is fun.

Without controversy, television is a reality fuelled, non offensive, sofa sitting, Adrian Chiles’ filled glorified bore box that challenges nothing. I was forced to sit through the masqueraded vapid drivel called “Desperate Scousewives”. Unfortunately the masquerade was a backdrop of a city desperately  close to my heart. I deny outdated, insipid stereotypes of citric coloured women and chauvinistic men. I deny the fact that the people of Liverpool all strive to be as useless as those who were paraded on the screen as the “real Liverpudlians”. I wish them all the best in their future carers in which one of them will be forced to eat a Kangaroo penis while two rather smug Geordies laugh their cheques all the way to the bank. And to the rest of them when they get paid £200 pounds to arrive and smile at slaughtered students on “Monday night madness”...

I don’t want or need this sort of reality TV. Television doesn’t need it; there is enough of it surely? What television needs are actual personalities....

I’m harbouring thoughts of creating a Union and going on strike until I get it....

But you never know Jeremy might arrive with a crossbow...