Poets Corner

Title: The New Man from Italy for England. (Once Bitten Twice Shy)

I do like to listen to the radio when it’s time to use the bog, so there I am on this particular day when there was breaking news saying that the F A had offered Fabio Capello the England job. But for me the only good thing about that braking news, “was that it helped to start me off.

It was the 13th of December when the F A gave notice to appoint England a new manager and this was also going to be only the second overseas manager that our national team has ever had,” but I just found myself saying so.... what’s the point in that.
Oh sure here is a man with all of the credentials, but his name is Capello and English he can never be.

So there I am listening to the radio whilst sitting on the bog, and I’m sure that I did an extra one, for all of those who gave this man such a very very highly paid job. The radio show was a phone in and I heard so many people say “so why can’t the new manager of England be English and I wondered if anyone was listening from the boardroom of the F A, and yet this silly cow who was hosting the radio show was now taking the phone in fans to task, but I tell you there was one particular man who drove home his points so well, that I shouted “go on my son, and to the radio, “now shove that up your arse. So I wiped my bum and gave a sigh as the true English man that I am, and thought to myself who really pays for all this? Is it really the F A’s purse? Or is it from so many millions, who simply call themselves fans.

To me the answerer is plainly obvious and was so prevalent in 66 when the England flag was the union jack and the home nations pride stood tall within that mix. There was Jock and Sean with Taffy too, each having a proud part of those colours and in the sharing of the pride from the home nation’s teams we would share the pride in each other, but boy have we had some battles royal when playing the game of football against each other. But from peace to war each have shared the past of Great Britain and each other. So you can bet for sure that each had cheered Sir Alf lads when Sir Bobby held up the world cup for England.
Now sadly all of that is a part of yesterday, and it is now that we must keep our eye on. With so many foreign managers flogging there crafts all around the world, and yes we’ve even had one who did quite well when taking his craft to Ireland. But is that truly the way it should be when you assemble a national team for a nation. It’s all gone completely ga’ga to me, in a game that is supposed to be played among nations.

Collin Smith....London DEC 2007.

Title: Tev

Hear I go here I go here I go, here I go here I go here I go’ow.
Do I stay do I stay do I stay; I don’t know I don’t know?
Hear I go here I go here I go, here I go here I go here I go’ow.
There you go there you go there you go, there you go there you go.
Hear I go here I go here I go, here I go here I go here I go’ow.
Hear I go here I go here I go, here I go here I go.

Do I stay do I stay do I stay, do I stay do I stay do I stay’ey.
Do I go do I go do I go, I don’t know I don’t know.
There you go there you go there you go, there you go there you go there you go.
I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know, I don’t know I don’t know.

Cont..... Excuse me, would you like to say that again?

Lyn Bucket. Posted 21July 2007

Title: Demolition Man ( as sung in the style of that old song, Music Man )

I am the demolition man, who comes from round your way. If you cant play, if you cant pay. I'll bring the BIG plant in. Smash it, smash it, smash it down, your worthless ground, smash it down. Smash it, smash it, smash it down, can you keep me away, Hey!

Gazza the Rainham Ram

Title: Turds 'R' U

How many shit's does it take to make a poo? There must be hundreds of you, you jumped up turds are all the same. Its money that's ruining the game, and you lot are surely to blame. From the fans to their team and the staff, each one with the club at their heart. Then its you with your eyeballs on money doing deals with a shake of the hand, you don't love the club or football its all for money and if you could, you would build on the land.

Rob AFC

Title: The useless divide of society

What do we see, both you and me, in a useless divide of society. Cops and robbers, pimps and muggers, wayward streets, little buggers. Sharp as knives, blunt as lead, the scum aspires, or ends up dead. We see it all, on channel shit, where millions are made, and yet you watch it. There'#s blood and guts, with sex and scorn, and in the middle of all this shit, a baby is born. Hearts go out to an infant child, just tomorrows crap, don't it make you wild. And the mum struts out, in a month or two, pushing her stuff, the way slag's do, while the dads fucked off, he don't need that shit, leaving baby to learn that this is all there is.
You've seen it, you watch it, you want it, you do. There is even a film plan, a sequel for the new scum two. With music and hatred designed by the scum, but the question remains, who is number one? Well is aint you, you stupid lump of shit, neither is it you, you worthless lump of crap, you wouldn't know decency if it stood up and bit ya, and besides there's not enough profit in that. So what will you do, nothing at your home, or in your zone, for those who live in the human zoo. Its all a great big game, and no-one understands it, apart from the ones at the top, who move like a formation of cancer, leaving all those behind them to rot. The young are so easy to trigger, and no-one can tell them when their wrong, so the users just feed them with garbage. In film, media and song.
Its a wrap, and that's the producers decision, answerable only to those at the top, and the artist or writer may ponder in the mix, or what is in the shot. So there it is all laid out before you, you can take it, or you can leave it alone, like a drug that is thankless and unforgiving, until there is no place left to call home. They say that home is where the heart is, but with a heartless divide on the street, we must now always look over our shoulders and be careful of those that we meet.

F-S-P Baz training to be a vic

Title: England Manager, "No Chance!"

England Manager, no chance, so who will the next one be? But could we have a say in this? No, no, not you and me. I Like the sound of Stuart Pearce, he's England through and through. With passion and pride i could see him there, oh yes for me he'll do. Ok you might have another name, and even me, i've got a few. But the main thing is that we have our shout, with a voice from me and you.

Jenny XX

Title: Who's the slapper at the bedroom door?

Who's the slapper at the bedroom door? COME ON ENGLAND, COME ON ENGLAND. S*** gave it one, made he's dick raw. COME ON ENGLAND, COME ON ENGLAND. Oow shake it all about. Be quick to put it back, before they catch you out. Oow La shake it up and down. And we all go round and round.

Amec Manchester

Title: The Premiership

Me and some mates are moving on down into a different kind of culture.
Where the fans are the club, and the club loves its fans. Where your not just a number, or a seat in the stands. Where a drink in the bar can often bring friends, where footballs a laugh, without supermen. And the directors are carers - not P-L-C's, and they all pull together, for you him and me.

Ross Hampshire