Off the Blob

The fire burns low

The wine has diminished

She looks deep in my eyes

Whispers those three magic words

‘My period’s finished’


The painters have gone

She’s off the rag

Her fanny is no longer flying the Japanese flag

She’s waved goodbye to Auntie Flo

Code red has been changed to green for go

The communists have been shown the door

The Red Sea has parted

Dracula’s teabag is no more

She has taken off her crimson glove

Leona Lewis has stopped singing Bleeding Love.


Ode to a Gypsy Cream 

Oh Gypsy Cream,
My Sweet brown Heaven
The biscuit of my desire
Your very name trips off my tongue
And sets my loins on fire
Oh Gypsy Cream
My dark delight
All night with you I’ll ramble
Two sweet brown orbs
Divided by cream
Like that dream I had about Naomi Campbell



(or Paul McGuinness is a Cunt)

I saw you with her behind the bike sheds Paul McGuinness
You both broke my heart with a kiss
With the stinging tears of betrayal blinding my eyes
I ran and I ran all the way to your house
And fingered your little sis’



I met you when I worked in the library Natasha
I said to you I have books of many styles
Take one, take two
In fact take many
Because I’ve got piles
You asked me for a book on suicide
Your mood that day was black
I looked you up and down then said
Fuck off!
You might not bring it back!
You left me high and dry Natasha
In the rains of a summer storm
But I will always have my memories
And your spare false leg
To keep me warm.