I really can't believe it
Did we play Marine?
I need to pinch myself
Was it just a dream?
A day full of nostalgia
The FA Amateur Cup on show
How much this meant to me personally
You will never know.
It was their 125th anniversary
Just like ours the year before
This was as magical for them
As Altona and maybe more.
The score was immaterial
Even though we won
The only winner was friendship
Under the beating down sun.
I'll never be a northerner
Never mind a Scouse
But if ever I moved up that way
Crosby's where I'd like my house.
Such an open welcome
Greeted from the heart
It was with genuine sadness
When it was time to depart.
The new season starting
Not just Dulwich Hamlet games to go
If anywhere's as great as Marine
They'll have to put on a show.
From the moment we got in the car park
Their Chairman shook our hand
The only thing missing
Was the reception of a local brass band!
A quirky little stadium
Door numbers on the fence
Gave us all free badges
When they could have made a few pence.
I've no idea where my travels will take me
Which strange places I'll explore
But anywhere will be hard to beat
The welcome by the Mersey shore.
No matter where I go
Hamburg will always be the best
But the biggest compliment I can pay Marine
Is that you're the Altona of the North-West.
Dulwich Poet 22nd July 2019
(On 13th July Dulwich Hamlet played a pre-season game at Marine AFC, as part of their 125th anniversary celebrations. This was a year after Dulwich Hamlet had travelled to Hamburg to play our good friends Altona 93 as part of both of our 125th birthday celebrations. In 1932 we had beaten Marine in the FA Amateur Cup final & the FA Amateur Cup itself was there at this special game, brought under security from the National Football Museum in Manchester.)
Monday 22 July 2019
Saturday 8 June 2019
"Second Chance Saloon"
Seven per cent survival
Luck was really on my side
The day I was put in an ambulance
And taken for a ride.
One moment I'm at football
Watching the Royal Engineers FC
Next thing I'm lying on the floor
And it's the end of me.
Completely by a fluke
Collapse at an Army football ground
Fortunately there's trained soldiers
Who give my chest a pound.
No doubt if this was America
I'd be left for dead
Checking if I've got insurance
Before putting me in a bed.
I've been extremely lucky
No damage to my brain
Though I can't quite work out
How they think I'm still sane.
I can't remember the moment
When I was lying on the floor
Never mind the opposition
Or even what was the score.
On the plus side there's no recollection
Of a tunnel full of light
Looking down at the scene from above
As I bade my time on earth goodnight.
That means there's no heaven
As far as I can tell
No dreams of flames around me
Which means no sign of hell.
So many good luck messages
When they didn't know I'd survive
Even people I'd never met
Willing me to be alive.
I still can't get used to it
The fact I should be brown bread
All sorts of weird thoughts
Bouncing round in my head.
Told I'm supposed to be nicer
Glad my heart got to start
But in truth I'm still as nasty
As that little Simpson whose name is Bart.
I'll always hate my enemies
Hoping they die before me
I can't change the way I am
What will be will be.
Having said that there's so many friends
Didn't realise how much they care
I can't grasp how popular I am
In the footballing world out there.
I've no idea why I pulled through
That fickle hand of fate
But it's made me love even more
The close few friends I call a mate.
I am a little bit more grateful
For dodging my funeral just yet
To those men from the Royal Engineers
I'll always be in your debt.
Dulwich Poet 8th June 2019
(On Friday 1st February 2019 I was visiting a friend in Chatham & we went to the Royal Engineers football ground to see them in an Army Football cup tie, with the proverbial one man & a dog in attendance. I collapsed with a heart attack & it was only through my friend getting help from solders present that saved my life. I was in intensive care & am very lucky to be alive)
Luck was really on my side
The day I was put in an ambulance
And taken for a ride.
One moment I'm at football
Watching the Royal Engineers FC
Next thing I'm lying on the floor
And it's the end of me.
Completely by a fluke
Collapse at an Army football ground
Fortunately there's trained soldiers
Who give my chest a pound.
No doubt if this was America
I'd be left for dead
Checking if I've got insurance
Before putting me in a bed.
I've been extremely lucky
No damage to my brain
Though I can't quite work out
How they think I'm still sane.
I can't remember the moment
When I was lying on the floor
Never mind the opposition
Or even what was the score.
On the plus side there's no recollection
Of a tunnel full of light
Looking down at the scene from above
As I bade my time on earth goodnight.
That means there's no heaven
As far as I can tell
No dreams of flames around me
Which means no sign of hell.
So many good luck messages
When they didn't know I'd survive
Even people I'd never met
Willing me to be alive.
I still can't get used to it
The fact I should be brown bread
All sorts of weird thoughts
Bouncing round in my head.
Told I'm supposed to be nicer
Glad my heart got to start
But in truth I'm still as nasty
As that little Simpson whose name is Bart.
I'll always hate my enemies
Hoping they die before me
I can't change the way I am
What will be will be.
Having said that there's so many friends
Didn't realise how much they care
I can't grasp how popular I am
In the footballing world out there.
I've no idea why I pulled through
That fickle hand of fate
But it's made me love even more
The close few friends I call a mate.
I am a little bit more grateful
For dodging my funeral just yet
To those men from the Royal Engineers
I'll always be in your debt.
Dulwich Poet 8th June 2019
(On Friday 1st February 2019 I was visiting a friend in Chatham & we went to the Royal Engineers football ground to see them in an Army Football cup tie, with the proverbial one man & a dog in attendance. I collapsed with a heart attack & it was only through my friend getting help from solders present that saved my life. I was in intensive care & am very lucky to be alive)
"Poetry"
I haven't written a poem for ages
What a fucking delight
Can't beat a bit of rhyming
To go & make my night.
It's something that I enjoy
A little thing I do
My own private bit of therapy
Where I share my point of view.
I've got no proper qualifications
Nothing fancy like English Lit
Just poetry as a hobby
And writing down a bit.
It took me quite a while
To realise a poet's what I am
If what I read out's not for you
I really don't give a damn.
Just because I'm not educated
Or sound all middle class
Doesn't make me any less of a poet
You're talking out of your arse.
Poetry's for us all
Even those Council Estate bred
The thought that we don't belong
We've got to get out of our head.
Don't dare turn up your nose
Because I swear out loud
I can still say that you're a cunt
And be fucking proud!
I couldn't tell you what I write
No idea of poetry form
It's all just loads of words to me
Whatever rules are the norm.
You might even say that I cheat
When I use a dictionary of rhyme
When you've got a limited vocabulary
Is that such a crime?
I can't do my poetry fluffy
All daffodils and walking in a field
We can still do our own poetry
Even if we're not well heeled.
Time to get used to us
We're working class and we swear
If you tut and disapprove
Do you think I fucking care?
We're the voices of the terrace
The boys from the Council Estate
We're your worst fucking nightmare
The poets you cunts all hate!
Dulwich Poet 8th June 2019
( I'm a working class poet, & I sometimes get the feeling that poets like me are looked down on...)
What a fucking delight
Can't beat a bit of rhyming
To go & make my night.
It's something that I enjoy
A little thing I do
My own private bit of therapy
Where I share my point of view.
I've got no proper qualifications
Nothing fancy like English Lit
Just poetry as a hobby
And writing down a bit.
It took me quite a while
To realise a poet's what I am
If what I read out's not for you
I really don't give a damn.
Just because I'm not educated
Or sound all middle class
Doesn't make me any less of a poet
You're talking out of your arse.
Poetry's for us all
Even those Council Estate bred
The thought that we don't belong
We've got to get out of our head.
Don't dare turn up your nose
Because I swear out loud
I can still say that you're a cunt
And be fucking proud!
I couldn't tell you what I write
No idea of poetry form
It's all just loads of words to me
Whatever rules are the norm.
You might even say that I cheat
When I use a dictionary of rhyme
When you've got a limited vocabulary
Is that such a crime?
I can't do my poetry fluffy
All daffodils and walking in a field
We can still do our own poetry
Even if we're not well heeled.
Time to get used to us
We're working class and we swear
If you tut and disapprove
Do you think I fucking care?
We're the voices of the terrace
The boys from the Council Estate
We're your worst fucking nightmare
The poets you cunts all hate!
Dulwich Poet 8th June 2019
( I'm a working class poet, & I sometimes get the feeling that poets like me are looked down on...)
Saturday 11 May 2019
"To Hell & Baku"
What on earth were they thinking
Can you even find Baku on a map?
As a destination for a final
It couldn't have been more crap.
Not caring about supporters
We all know that's nothing new
None of that really matters
As long as corporates' can take a pew.
A meagre ticket allocation
At first glance it doesn't seem fair
But only the rich can afford to go
So do I really care?
It was once the 'Game of the People'
That's been lost in the mists of time
What's happened to professional football
Really is a crime.
Long gone are the days
When football was for the man in the street
Now it's only affordable
If you dress City pin stripe neat.
Toffee nosed posh cunts
Who won't let you shout and swear
Grassing if you stand up
Whining "I can't see it's not fair!"
Two grand minimum for the final
Probably flying in by corporate jet
Loose change they'll lose in a casino
On the spin of a single bet.
People mock Dulwich Hamlet hipsters
But these rich fans are who I despise
They're the ones killing our game
Not Champion Hill's fancy pies.
I'm fortunate I don't have to be bitter
Ni pointing fingers of blame
I missed this mass destruction
Because Non League's been my game.
At least I'm not going to end up disillusioned
Forced to walk away
Needing a fucking mortgage
On my team's Cup Final day.
Dulwich Poet 11th May 2019
( The 2019 Europa League Final between two London sides Chelsea & Arsenal was held in Baku, in Azerbaijan, thousands of miles away from England, with no direct flights, and very expensive to get to. I wrote these just before the game took place.)
Can you even find Baku on a map?
As a destination for a final
It couldn't have been more crap.
Not caring about supporters
We all know that's nothing new
None of that really matters
As long as corporates' can take a pew.
A meagre ticket allocation
At first glance it doesn't seem fair
But only the rich can afford to go
So do I really care?
It was once the 'Game of the People'
That's been lost in the mists of time
What's happened to professional football
Really is a crime.
Long gone are the days
When football was for the man in the street
Now it's only affordable
If you dress City pin stripe neat.
Toffee nosed posh cunts
Who won't let you shout and swear
Grassing if you stand up
Whining "I can't see it's not fair!"
Two grand minimum for the final
Probably flying in by corporate jet
Loose change they'll lose in a casino
On the spin of a single bet.
People mock Dulwich Hamlet hipsters
But these rich fans are who I despise
They're the ones killing our game
Not Champion Hill's fancy pies.
I'm fortunate I don't have to be bitter
Ni pointing fingers of blame
I missed this mass destruction
Because Non League's been my game.
At least I'm not going to end up disillusioned
Forced to walk away
Needing a fucking mortgage
On my team's Cup Final day.
Dulwich Poet 11th May 2019
( The 2019 Europa League Final between two London sides Chelsea & Arsenal was held in Baku, in Azerbaijan, thousands of miles away from England, with no direct flights, and very expensive to get to. I wrote these just before the game took place.)
Thursday 17 January 2019
"Liquid Fools Gold"
Have you overdone it
A little too much Christmas cheer
Time to go and show them
Have a month off the beer.
Cos this will really show them
It's so easy to cope
And I'll really be quids in
Money for old rope.
Look how I don't need that drink
Haven't even got the shakes
See I'm just a sociable drinker
I've got what it takes.
Who are you trying to kid
You're only fooling yourself
In truth you're an Alkie
Pretending to be in good health.
In January you're the pub bore
Spouting out you don't need booze
Squeezing another notch on your belt
Saying how many pounds you're going to lose.
Come the First of February
You'll just have one or two
Then normal service resumed
It becomes quite a few.
Deep down you know the truth
Everyone else knows the score
You're an alcoholic
Even if you're not lying on the floor.
So no more of this pretend nonsense
Stopping in January lark
You're really not much different
Than those dossers in the park.
This peretence of being in control
When alcohol's got you round the neck
It really is a death grip
And you're going to hit the deck.
It's not being a social drinker
Getting pissed until you can't walk
You must know you have a problem
Despite all your normality talk.
Seeing as you're Old Skool old fashioned
Time to use the proverbial phone book
Go search for Alcoholics Anonymous
You need to take a look.
Dulwich Poet 12th January 2019
(It's 'Dry January' apparently. When people give up drink, de-tox for a month, make the sacrifice for charity, or whatever. It also masks people with drink problems pretending they are 'normal' drinkers...)
A little too much Christmas cheer
Time to go and show them
Have a month off the beer.
Cos this will really show them
It's so easy to cope
And I'll really be quids in
Money for old rope.
Look how I don't need that drink
Haven't even got the shakes
See I'm just a sociable drinker
I've got what it takes.
Who are you trying to kid
You're only fooling yourself
In truth you're an Alkie
Pretending to be in good health.
In January you're the pub bore
Spouting out you don't need booze
Squeezing another notch on your belt
Saying how many pounds you're going to lose.
Come the First of February
You'll just have one or two
Then normal service resumed
It becomes quite a few.
Deep down you know the truth
Everyone else knows the score
You're an alcoholic
Even if you're not lying on the floor.
So no more of this pretend nonsense
Stopping in January lark
You're really not much different
Than those dossers in the park.
This peretence of being in control
When alcohol's got you round the neck
It really is a death grip
And you're going to hit the deck.
It's not being a social drinker
Getting pissed until you can't walk
You must know you have a problem
Despite all your normality talk.
Seeing as you're Old Skool old fashioned
Time to use the proverbial phone book
Go search for Alcoholics Anonymous
You need to take a look.
Dulwich Poet 12th January 2019
(It's 'Dry January' apparently. When people give up drink, de-tox for a month, make the sacrifice for charity, or whatever. It also masks people with drink problems pretending they are 'normal' drinkers...)
Saturday 12 January 2019
"Was That Christmas?"
Don't get me wrong I enjoyed it
My sister inviting me to her friend
But it was something I was so unused to
Couldn't wait for the day to end.
What a lovely hostess
As soon as we got through the door
Radiating happiness and goodwill
Despite cooking for a dozen or more.
I felt like an outsider
Is this how ordinary people live
Sat round the dinner table
Not sure what I had to give.
Making sure I controlled my tongue
Careful what I said
Not wanting to make a fool of myself
With the first thought in my head.
They all gave out little presents
I was just my sister's 'plus one'
Not that I was expecting anything
When all was said and done.
Watching their little pleasure
'Pretending' to like what they got
Knowing I've always got it right
By not caring a jot.
Consumerism nightmares
Buying fancy tat
What's the point of more socks or smellies
Not for me where I'm sat.
Hand on heart I'll be honest
It wasn't the ordeal I thought
And my hostess appreciated the diplomacy
Of the bottle of wine I brought.
I liked it more than I should
And the food was top notch
But deep down I felt I don't belong here
Constantly looking at my watch.
I get you all enjoy it
As far as I could see
If only people would understand
Christmas is not for me.
Dulwich Poet 12th January 2019
(My original plans were to visit a friend for Christmas, but it fell through. My sister was going to visit one of her friends, and invited me along. I'm not a Christmas person, it was strange, but also nicer than I thought...)
My sister inviting me to her friend
But it was something I was so unused to
Couldn't wait for the day to end.
What a lovely hostess
As soon as we got through the door
Radiating happiness and goodwill
Despite cooking for a dozen or more.
I felt like an outsider
Is this how ordinary people live
Sat round the dinner table
Not sure what I had to give.
Making sure I controlled my tongue
Careful what I said
Not wanting to make a fool of myself
With the first thought in my head.
They all gave out little presents
I was just my sister's 'plus one'
Not that I was expecting anything
When all was said and done.
Watching their little pleasure
'Pretending' to like what they got
Knowing I've always got it right
By not caring a jot.
Consumerism nightmares
Buying fancy tat
What's the point of more socks or smellies
Not for me where I'm sat.
Hand on heart I'll be honest
It wasn't the ordeal I thought
And my hostess appreciated the diplomacy
Of the bottle of wine I brought.
I liked it more than I should
And the food was top notch
But deep down I felt I don't belong here
Constantly looking at my watch.
I get you all enjoy it
As far as I could see
If only people would understand
Christmas is not for me.
Dulwich Poet 12th January 2019
(My original plans were to visit a friend for Christmas, but it fell through. My sister was going to visit one of her friends, and invited me along. I'm not a Christmas person, it was strange, but also nicer than I thought...)
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