the wood man

It was out of bounds, punishable by flogging if caught, and so tempting.
Wisps of smoke rose aimlessly from the low chimney that could only be seen from our dormitory window. I knew I could not go alone Peter would have to go too. We said nothing just looked nodded and smiled.
The pathway by the side of Matrons block, was hidden from view, by a thorn bush. The cut thorns left scattered on the path to act as a deterrent. But we had a weapon, Shoes. All the children ran around shoeless in the summer months. In winter cast off sandals were issued, it was not cold enough for sandals but too cold for bare feet. Peter was the only child with shoes, large ugly bulky black leather. The shoes were attached to the callipers for his legs, keeping them in place. He moved slowly over the ground pushing the odd thorn twig with his crutch or shuffling them aside with his shoes, many thorns were impaled the soles. I followed slowly treading only where he led. Soon we were in the woods amidst the soft leaf litter and buoyant grass. The structure was in a clearing, hidden on the house side, by a lush green hedge.
It seemed deserted. The woodshed was not just one structure, there was a number of angular buildings conjoined. The walls were wood and the roof either thatched, wood tiled or bark. A rustic disturbing place that had no windows just half doors. No one was around so we went closer, and opened the top section of a door. The interior basked in a red glow from an oil drum brazier. Above the brazier was a large funnel that drew smoke into the metal chimney. Logs were piled against the walls; the large circular saw dominated the space with a splitting area for long logs beside it. There was large odd shaped wooded block at the other side for chopping. On further inspection it was the root of a tree that had been felled to create space, for the ramshackle building.
Should we go in?
We had come this far why not, but then we heard a sound, behind us, we turned around to see the tall stooping man looking at us. He was close, we could smell him but he did not move, as if waiting for us to run. Peter could not run, so I would not. We looked defiantly back at the man as if right was on our side, which it was not. He blinked first; ignoring us he opened the door pushing us aside and walked in. He was not that scary, he said nothing, did not tell us to go away, so we did not. We stood outside the building looking in. Ignoring us he opened the Hessian sack he was carrying, took out a dead rabbit, and began to skin, and prepare it. We watched. After he had completed his work, he placed the meat into a pot, collected water from a barrel with a ladle, and placed it directly on the fire, after removing a large kettle. The innards of the rabbit he wrapped in moss and put them on the fire. The smell was revolting. We continued watching. He tilted his head in a gesture we took as “ enter if you must”. He indicated for us to sit, so we pulled up a log each and sat opposite, feeling the warmth of the fire. The flickering flames lit up the features of the man. He wore a floppy felt hat with a cloth underneath that covered his shoulders. His face was distorted, his left eye half closed, and the skin on his face stretched as if pulled at the corner of his eye. He had facial hair on the right of his face the left side was smooth and shiny. He saw us looking. He poked the fire then busied himself with making a hot drink. After he made this, he removed the hat and cloth. We watched but said nothing, or made any sound of alarm. The left side of his face was badly burnt, with twisted skin from below the neck unseen, to three fingers wide, above the shrivelled ear. Grey hair covered the rest of his head as normal. He drank from his mug. We watched. After a while, drinking and watching, he passed us the mug to drink. It was hot with a strange grassy smell, more a hay meadow than tea. Small bits of stick floated on the top, but we drank filtering the floating debris with out lips. It tasted sweet and muddy. When the meat was cooked he placed some on a wooden bowl for himself and a wooden board for us. We ate and drank but did not talk. He looked at us and we looked at him, and for the first time in years I felt safe. After a while he started working and we rolled the logs for him to split. I say we, but only I was working Peter could not bend enough.
After what seemed like loads of chopping, the woodsman stopped and looked at Peter. He circled his fingers indicating for Peter to turn around, he pulled his shirt up over Peter's head and traced the curvature of Peter’s spine with his finger, then pulled down the shirt. He measured the distance from under Peter’s arm to the ground on one side and then on the other. They were not the same lengths. Peter had only one short crutch. No one except this strange silent man, noticed or cared. That was the first time we saw the woodsman. It was not the last. Many days we escaped, to the house in the wood, to help. Peter had new crutches made that were adjustable with holes and pegs. No one noticed his crutches, or the changes. It never occurred to any of those in charge, that Peter had one short crutch but now had two.

human husbandry by Eric the goat

Humans are social animals and can give years of enjoyment and support to all goats. THEY SHOULD NOT BE KEPT ON THEIR OWN (a cruelty issue), but thrive if allowed to interact with other humans. The ideal number is two but a complete family from grandparent to children and grandchildren can be housed together with caution. In a feral state humans congregate in large numbers in unhealthy communities called cities. This human environment is hazardous to the planet as it consumes vast amounts of power, water, and food. The only products of a city are pollution waste and toxic substances. Rescuing a human or two from that environment is not only humane and worthwhile It can be extremely productive for goatkind.

CHOOSING YOUR HUMAN

As said previously, humans are social animals but getting the right one for you is important. Highly spiced varieties, especially curry should be avoided. They have a tendency to turn feral and eat flesh. A normal pair bonding of a male and female is the acceptable beginners bundle. However surprising results have been achieved with two males or two females. They have tended to be more caring (having decided not to have children themselves) and dedicate their lives to that of goats. There is great competitions for these humans and fierce rivalry between dogs and cats for ownership. It is unlikely that a goat would be able to secure one of these pairs. The odd hermit blokie or hermitus spinsterus if available can be an ideal lifelong companion, but again they are very rare.

Going for the standard model of a male and female, normally they start with open toed sandals, long hair, beads, and flowing long skirt, the females are similarly dressed. Do not worry at this stage they have a capacity to learn. You would have checked that one is vegetarian, the other can be converted in time.

HOUSING

Unlike goats that only require shelter from the elements and good ventilation the needs of human housing is a mine field. The city feral human worships his byre. They adorn them with knick-knacks and junk they call art. Humans for some reason invented an abstract commodity called money, their housing, must reflect, the vast amounts they do not have, of this invention. Do not worry the humans you will come into contact with have already rejected money, or will have after two years as a goat companion.

Goat friendly humans think we need, what they need, in housing, so the goat byre will have running water, electricity, totally weather proof, and soft comfortable bedding. After seeing to goat needs, they will convert the derelict farm house, into a hovel, having run out of that money stuff. Don't feel guilty or worry about it, crofters thrive in squalor. They seem to be able to do without hot water, and power for years, before buying a static caravan. Crofters (as they now call themselves) spend most of their lives in caravans waiting to do up the farm house. They normally sell up long before the farm house is completed and turn feral, back in the city. The croft being sold to a feral city dweller, looking for the GOOD LIFE.

FOOT CARE

unlike cloven animals that only require hoof trimming and treatment for foot rot and scald, human feet are greatly neglected. They only have two feet, so one would assume they would look after them. Humans are exceptionally negligent with their feet. When young and the bones are malleable, they cram them into ill-fitting shoes in pursuit of fashion, (another abstract concept similar to money). By the time we see them their feet are a mess. They have corns, bunions, hard and cracked skin and athletes foot. You will note the open toed sandals of the males, and the open toed stilts of the females. The tall female shoes play havoc with their backs, by thrusting out the mammary glands to the front, and the rump to the rear. The odd shape achieved, is suppose to stimulate the male. You must act fast and stamp on their feet as quickly as possible. If you can contrive to turn the gate entrances into a quagmire, they will buy steel toe-capped Wellington boots. Wellies are the acceptable attire for the crofter. Once forced into Wellingtons they will remain the foot wear of choice.

PARASITES

Humans have limited resistance to worms. They seem to be totally resistant to lamb dysentery, pulpy kidney, struck, tetanus, braxy, blackleg, black disease and clostridial metritis so do not need regular injections of Heptovac. All crofting humans claim to suffer from Bank Managers, agricultural reps, vets, solicitors, DEFRA, and accountants. NO TRACE of these parasites have been found in the organs of crofters, but they obviously exist and an overburden of a number of these parasites can prove fatal.

FARMERS LUNG

This is a deadly fungal spore found in mouldy hay. It enters the lung and colonises the damp recesses of the air sacks, and spreads. A crofter infected must give up crofting and turn feral or die. They can wear face masks and protective clothing, but that would need a considerable amount of common sense and logic to achieve. Crofters lack both. The only solution is to trample all hay into the ground and reduce it to bedding as quickly as possible.

DIET

Unlike ruminants that have four stomachs, and camelids that have three, humans have only one stomach. You would think they would take care in what they put in it! Humans can and should eat raw food, but have a taste for anything cooked. They can survive well on fruit, vegetables, and protein in the shape of eggs fish and dairy but choose not to. The feral city human does not prepare, or cook food, but has it delivered hot to the door, or eats out. Eating out (another abstract invention similar to money) is an art form, apparently greater satisfaction is obtained if the food is minuscule and expensive. Feral humans prefer ready made to fresh, E numbers to vegetables, and everything must be wrapped with a sell by date (a fictitious number designed by shops to encourage sales). Feral humans have bookcases of recipe books, how to, and what to cook, seasonal, and otherwise. They watch endless hours of cookery programmes on TV, but make nothing more adventurous than a cup of coffee. Your crofting human tries to break the habit, by growing his own and cooking from scratch. This normally resembles green goo, but one of them seems to like it. They naturally dislike the colour green, unless in clothing, and Wellington boots, and like to cook anything except cabbage and sprouts. Sprouts are only used for one day in the winter. They are put on the plate, surrounded in meat, and moved around the plate, until everything else is eaten. On completion they are thrown away. Goats get all the peeling, but the delicious center of the sprout, is ritually boiled and discarded. This ceremony normally brings on the new year, and growing season, therefore must be adhered to. The crofting human does prepare the delicious banana skins for us goats, by removing the toxic white center. This revolting part of the banana plant has to be eaten between two pieces of bread to neutralise the toxicity.

The crofting human is in a constant loosing battle with slugs and snails in his vegetable patch. Everything he eats had holes in, just bolted, or past its best. Goats are given the lions share of the vegetable patch production, so this futile past time should not be discouraged.

Of more concern is the “Indian” a hot and spicy dish delivered to the door. We suspect that this is the source of the parasite DEFRA as the human scours badly for days after consumption. They can spend hours in the toilet from just one meal, It is horrifying to watch.

REPRODUCTION

This should be discouraged. It is logical to think that a crofted human will raise offspring, to continue the good work, of tending to all goats needs. In reality they are educated and sent to university, where they abscond to the city, to become feral in pursuit of money. Humans do not have a rutting season or a period where males smell particularly pungent and alluring. That is not to say that the males do not smell. They just do not have a season to do so. They smell quite revolting throughout the year. They have scent glands all over their bodies, unlike goats that have them behind the horn. You can not remove the horn and scent gland and reduce unwanted odours, as the most pungent area is under the arms and the groin.

It is a wonder that so many males are fertile, you just do not need that many. Some females, think males can be done away with altogether, with an efficient AI programme. The natural bonding seems to be one male and one female, so we have to be on the look out for broody behaviour of the female. A kick or head butt in the male groin can postpone breading for a month, but it is not a long term solution. Prolonged poverty and fatigue is more efficient. If you slip up and one of the humans becomes pregnant do not be discouraged. The male will try to compensate working hard for long periods, doing the work of two continuously. Any further pregnancies are very unlikely.

The gestation of a human is nine months. Four months longer than a goat. Yet they can not stand or reach the teat at birth. The young human is looked after in a secure sterile environment thus does not develop immunity and is frequently ill. You will not normally see a young human until it is about four years old, when it enjoys you eating its hair. At this age, they bring treats to show they are friendly.

THREATS AND DANGERS

The biggest threat to the crofting life comes through the post. Mail is a constant worry for the crofter, but you can spot the danger signs.

1. an increase in letters from a solicitor.
2. Letters from debt management companies
3. postcards from friends abroad on hot sandy beaches
4. notification of a visit by environmental health

Another danger is the increase in visits of close family, especially the mother in law.

They never bring Wellingtons, although allergic to, clarts, dung, mud and dirt. They carry with them boxes of wipes which they flourish at the sight or smell of anything organic. Their greatest regret is, that Jemima took up with such a wastrel, and are determined to restore the feral disciplines of greed and grab.

Any increase in the visit of tradesmen is of great concern, especially if they had spent time working on the derelict farm house. These tradesmen have failed to believe a cheque is in the post and will not be fobbed off.

A vigilant goat is a happy goat. A successful crofter is a fallacy. They are just one debt from disaster. Be mindful of what you have got from your crofter, and assist them to keep sane. Always remember, an animal sanctuary is the final resting place of a negligent goat. You must do all you can to keep your crofter, and avoid the inevitable.

Gourmet Britain

Gourmet Britain!

Nothing defines a gourmet lifestyle like purchasing prowess. The British if nothing else are dedicated shoppers. They avidly read all labels and take note of all E numbers, although not caring what they do, or what they are. They always check on the country of origin, although “Buy one get one free” and “reduced to clear” are not officially recognised as independent countries by the United Nations. (Nanny sate NIMBYism )

Buying British is important but free trade should not be overlooked, and can be ethically beneficial. Equal importance is thus given to UK goods as to the intergalactic republic of Saturn and Jupiter.

Quality marks

Britain is a nation of animal lovers and are environmentally concerned. This is why stringent rules and regulations exist in the UK to ensure animals and crops are farmed ethically and compassionately.

To ensure the public are aware of the high standards various marking systems exist. For example the red tractor means expensive, compassion in farming -very expensive, and Organic, don't be daft put it back. All products bearing these markings will remain on the supermarket shelves indefinitely until trumped with a large yellow label clearly stating “Reduced to clear.”

High street vs Supermarkets

The high street is for charity shops, bookmakers, banks, and loan sharks.

Supermarkets is where you buy everything.

It is true years ago there were independent shops selling vegetables, meat, fish, clothes, and groceries. Now this is done by the supermarkets. Supermarkets do no serve the public, they make profit for shareholders. Shareholders compete with other shareholders for market domination. This is called a price war. Price wars are what consumers want and need. During these wars, prime steak can be cheaper than Spam, dairy products cheaper than water, and alcohol cheaper than screen wash.

Innovation is the weapon of the price war. Dairy products can not be sold unless in the shape of a teddy bear, or cheese in strings.

Footfall is vitally important in price wars. The footfall of customers coming into the supermarket indicates how effective price wars can be. The footfall of producers leaving the supermarkets indicates short sighted the profit margin can be.

Vegetables

all supermarkets have fresh fruit and vegetables near the entrance. The waste of fruit and vegetables is phenomenal. Vegetables mature and rot at differing rates. It is a perceived fact that the conversion of vegetable starch into sugar reaches it optimum 4 seconds before the fruit rots. The pursuit of this 4 second fruit Nirvana is all consuming. This is why shoppers head straight for the reduced to clear rack to gain a march on the Nirvana moment. Refrigerators throughout the UK are full of sprouting, moldy, slimy, fruit, and vegetables that have just past the Nirvana by a second or two.

Meat and Fish

All meat and meat products are hygienically wrapped in disposable wrapping. It is essential this wrapping is disposed of safely. You would not want a child to eat the wrapping as they would have difficulty in discerning the plastic wrapping from the plastic meat. The packaging informs you if the meat is Dry cured, air cured, brined, smoked, hung, beaten or just neglected. It doesn't mention taste, Why should it if there isn't any.

Fish can be sold even if the eyes are dull and there is a strong smell of ammonia providing a reduced to clear label is firmly attached.

Labels and allergens

some people have allergies to certain foods. These can be life threatening, so it is important the food is labelled correctly. This does not mean that labels should be boring and uninteresting. Products containing Whey can be written in Portuguese or Serbo Croat, to stimulate the British linguistic skills.

At present there is little opposition to the domination of the supermarket. Attempts have been made to promote grow your own. This would mean dirty hands broken nails, and looking at snails.

The alternative is Farmers markets. Isn't that what they do abroad?

Fresh fruit and vegetables, meat and dairy products sold by the producer. All food tasty, and traceable, with the ability to talk to the producer about keeping, handling and how to cook.

I doubt if it will take off, just because they do it in the rest of the world is no reason the British should follow suit. After all Britain is a gourmet country.

Morish

Scar face Scarlatti's last requests was handed to the judge. Scarlatti was due for execution in the morning and it was customary to grant one last request. However requesting something that was morish was not acceptable.




The war on drugs was being won. Class A, B and C drugs were almost extinct. The battle against morish indulgences was not so easy especially Brie. Penicillium camemberti bacteria was difficult to control. Prisoners had been known to soak sponges in milk and leave in a warm place until the white mould grew. A black market of Brie culture soon sprang up in all prisons. When prisoners put the warmed culture in the ventilation shafts the prison soon became a breeding ground. If they could not control morish products in prison how could they control it in the outside world?




The government took firm action and created a Morish Czar, with overreaching powers, but not too over reaching. Every action or idea must first receive political approval. The first action was to classify morish with a system of letters, Class A the most serious included Brie, Chocolate, Cheesecake, souffle, and gateaux. Class B, sticky toffee pudding, ice cream, and Pavlova. Class C, Hobnobs, shortbread, Dundee cake, Selkirk bannocks and Border tart.




It was a known scientific fact that morish food is responsible for obesity. Obesity is the prime cause of diabetes, stroke, heart attack, bowl cancer, IBS, and listlessness(The prime cause of unemployment). Without morish food, the food industry need not invest in fancy packaging and brand identity. Brown paper sacks can be used for all vegetables as a carrot looks just like a carrot so no need to put it in a see through wrapper.




All morish food comes from abroad, i.e. chocolate and anything French. Strict border controls have to be enforced. Anything sounding foreign should be stopped and returned to country of origin. This rule came quite handy when dealing with Nigel Farage.




A crackdown was instigated on the organizers of morish food and advertising. Jamie Oliver, Delia Smith and Mary Berry were placed in special measures. A new quango was set up Offood to investigate reports of miss selling carob and sugar substitute. A special watchdog was set up under the education department to ensure all children, no matter what age or background receive wholesome bland food in school dinners. Fortunately considerable work had already been done with school dinners to ensure a bland conformity across the board. Even schools such as Harrow and Eton have been in the forefront with sago and tapioca. The most controversial area seems to be Marmite where half the population think it is a luxury indulgence, while the other think it should be used only in prison reform.




Great strides have been taken against morish food, which only leaves the problem of Scar face Scarlatti's last meal. The judge knew it could become a precedence. Finally a judgement was made. Scarlatti would be taken to a cell and injected with heroin. He would be allowed to snort two lines of cocaine before being given a portion of mousetrap cheese. He will be so far out of it, that he will not notice, or care, that the cheese is not Brie.

birthright

“I Sean Rafferty the fourth. 2.1 leprechaun fifth class (failed) claim my birthright.”

“Sean Rafferty the fourth.2.1 means.” asked the Judge

“My grandfather was the fourth Sean Raffery. There were twelve in all, but he was the fourth. My father was the second Sean Rafferty out of sixteen but I am the first Sean Rafferty from my father.”

“How many Sean Rafferty's does your father have.”

“There are only twelve at the moment, but I'm the first.”

“You could use another name apart from Sean?” the judge said

“We do.” said Sean

“Oh really and what name is that?”asked the Judge

“Rafferty” replied Sean

“Remind me again” said the judge “what actually is your birthright?”

“Dat I am the stupidest ting on earth, dat I am believed to have a crock of gold at the base of every rainbow, and only Irish men that have drunk fourteen pints of Guinness, on the Saturday of the 29th February, can be believed, to have seen me.”

“You surely have that.” said the judge “Stop wasting court time.”

“Dats the ting your honour, the owner of this bowler hat is stupider than me.”

“Don't be so perverse. Case dismissed. Next”

“No wait yur honour, not so hasty. Admittedly I don't have the eiijit that owns the bowler hat but I have this mortgage proposal form.”

Sean handed the proposal form to the clerk, who in turn handed it to the judges bench. The three judges studied the proposal.

“but this is a proposal from the Bank of Made up Names and Make Belief, formally HSBC.”

“That is true your honour.”

“And how, may we ask, did a fifth rate leprechaun get such a proposal. Have you ever worked in the laundry?”

“Never yur honour, I've never done an honest elves days work in my life.”

“I should hope not, can't have leprechauns speculating that they are honest. What did you do to elicit such stupidity, you surely must have played a trick, or used some sorcery?”

“No yur honour it was like this. I was hav'in a few with with the elves and fairies it being 17 of March, and I must have had a bit too much. It was hard to believe as I was only having small sips,”

“Many small sips I imagine.” Said the judge

“Well the Jamesons was two for one, the Guinness buy one get one free with triple nectar points, and the Bushmills on special with quadruple nectar points if you bought home made Irish stew. So I had a word with the cashier, swapping the bought and free ones until in the end, I ended up handing back the nectar point and the stew and taking the booze for nothing. It's what leprechauns do.”

“I assume you had small sips of what you bought, or not from the shops,”said the judge. “And the small sips added up to?”

“Just two bottles of Bushmill two bottles of Jamesons and a crate of the dark stuff.” said Sean, “well it was an elf holiday the day after.”

“I thought you leprechauns were always on holiday?”

“That's true your honour but when its an official holiday we don't have to pretend to be lazy we can do it natural like.”

“The man in the bowler?” asked the judge.

“Dats the ting, I was above ground when the sun cum up, I had no where to hide. Then I remember that new building site, for affordable homes, they were going to build for the workers of the new Chinese factory, before the recession. It's just rubble now, so I thought I'd hide among the demolished buildings, and pretend to be an unwanted gnome. I saw a piece of wood with Dunroamin on it, and an old cauldron, so I just sat between, hoping to be missed.

Then the man in the bowler arrives picking over the rubbish, when I belched. Cheese and onion crisp, always makes me belch, nothing to do with the Jamesons.”

“Of course not.” said the judge.

Quick as a flash the man in the bowler sees me and the cauldron and says that I was a leprechaun and he claims my crock of gold. Then he looks in the empty cauldron and asks if its mine. Well it was at the time because I had touched it and what a leprechaun touches automatically becomes his by default. Well he is not best pleased.”

“Well what happened?” asked the judge.

” the man in the bowler soon established the cauldron, the rubble, and the land, was mine by default and he offered me a loan.”

“On what, the rubble?” asked the judge.

“ No. On the six bedroom detached bungalow, swimming pool, and tennis court to be built on the site.”

“Are you expecting us to believe you will do a days work, and build a bungalow.”

“Certainly not your honour, I just has to lie that I will. It's what leprechauns do best.”

“And the man in the bowler hat owns the land, right.”

“No yur honour, I own the land. I don't really, but on paper I do. And I am going to build a house. He gives me the money for that, with a mortgage. I can then buy gold, to give to him, as forfeit.”

“where does the money come from?”

“The bank yur honour, only not from the bank because the money is dirty.”

“It has stains?”

“No you honour, I wish you'd keep up. The money belongs to the Mafia, and terrorist, but they are not suppose to have it, as it is all in cash, not cheques. So the bank has to lend it out, to get rid of it. So I have the money, or the man in the bowler has the gold.”

“But you don't earn money, how can you pay it back?”

“Ten percent of the money I am suppose to get, pays insurance for non payment to the bank. The loan is now an asset. If they bundle it with other assets, they become a security, and securities can be traded as derivatives on the market.”

“No one is going to be that stupid to buy money, and assets, that don' exist. I just can not believe you it could never happen.”

“Fred Goodwin RBS your honour.” said the clerk

“OK, one off, RBS.”

“Lehman Brothers.” said the clerk

“OK maybe Lehman as well, but no one else.”

“Northern Rock, Merrill Lynch, Goldman Sachs,”

“Point taken.” said the judge “So why Sean did he tell you this.”

“Because I asked him, and if I agreed, and knew, I wouldn't tell any one else.”

“That's disgraceful.” said the Judge

“But I did the right thing, I told him I was an undercover finance reporter.” said Sean

“What did he say.”

“Well he asked what paper, so I told him the Daily Mail. And he said he would have preferred it if I was from the Telegraph, but the Mail is OK. Then he took off, leaving his bowler hat behind. So the man is obviously stupid, and I thought that might endanger my birthright.”

“Did you tell any one.”

“Yes yur honour I told the fraud squad.”

“In Ireland.”

“No.”

“In the UK then?”

“No,”

“Well who did you tell?”

“I told the fraud squad in Switzerland.”

“You told the fraud squad in Switzerland, about fraud in a Swiss bank, and expect them to investigate. Your Birthright is secure, you must be the stupidest leprechaun I know. Get out and stop wasting my time.” said the judge

public art

The ancient planning chairman


said that they should start


with the nutter of a Druid


with his local public art



the Druid had been there before


and some committee men he knew


so his second circular installation art


he named the thing O2



he even brought a model


for comment and inspection


but he didn't see much enthusiasm


so suspected a rejection



this art he said is for display


for culture and enjoyment


and all the stones needed


will increase local employment



the committee began to warm at this


but with health and safety fears


demanded workers had stone capped sandals


and protection for the ears



the Druid saw some interest


curiosity had won


so he explained the building aim


and what was to be done



stone quarried from far and wide


would be brought to the site


then placed in a circle


before standing them upright



then when they were quit steady


and did not need a prop


the remaining quarried stones


would be placed on top



from fifty thousand oxen


they would take the hide


stitched together it would cover


everything inside



the Druid liked it to a large pimple


or and inflated female breast


more a like large carbuncle


said a planner less impressed



the large capping stones


was a clear health and safety hitch


so the Druid suggest he could dig


a safe excluding ditch



Sadly the plans were past


and after the opening ceremony


there was a large hole in the funding


and the canopy



so when the gales blew from the sea


as happens this time of year


the canopy blew clean away


and some stones disappeared




now O2 is called Stonehenge


an architectural monstrosity


but to us mere modern mortals


an ancient curiosity

if you believe

Martyrdom is the goal
religions all aspire
with heaven full of virgins
for your earthy desire
to go out in a bang
leaving families to grieve
that is what your life is for
is that what you believe?

dole queues will diminish
a policy for the poor
but the youth are disillusioned
have no life worth living for
they should get on their bikes
from family must leave
there are jobs for those that want
you seriously believe?

Money can only trickle down
from rich to poor below
with the greed incentive
the economy will grow
the rich pay their due taxes
and never will deceive
that are wasted by a government
how could you not believe?

The borders are wide open
migrants flood in where they can
roam the street to beg and steal
in antique caravan
from a destitute frozen homeland
their families will leave
the land you spend your holidays
and yet you still believe?

Santa has a toy filled grotto
tooth fairy knows you're good
fairies live in your garden
and pixies in the wood
angels sit on your shoulder
tugging at your sleeve
steering you from what is wrong
all this you believe?

Next year will be elections
and you at last can choose
between tosser,liar, and crackpot
the honest one will loose
right are left and left are right
they hope to deceive
only fascist show compassion
if you still believe?