Welcome to our alternative poetry readings. live from the Avant Garde Club.
Now I know you've all come tonight to hear Fatso's new anthology "No Superkings, sorry" - (perhaps his most brutal work of all) but let me introduce our newest and freshest warm-up poet - Jenny Smith
(polite applause amid murmers "but I wanted to see Fatso!" and "I hope he doesn't fall asleep this time!")
JS clears throat:
"This is my most radical piece to date:
Half-term! What a load of shit that is!
Its not even christmas. Or Easter.
And the kids get on your tits
And they hog the laptop all the time
if you're not driving 'em to sleepovers that is!
And don't get me started on Halloween...!
(Sounds of "boos" start to erupt dangerously amid murmers of "doesnt' even rhyme" and
"where's the irony? thats what I want to know...")
Look! Its a work in progress, okay?
When the hell is it Monday?
When I can get rid of the bloody lot of them
Daughter says she's got a sore throat
well, I tell you, she's bloody going.......
Ow! No, stop it! Hey! Thats not very ladylike!
(tomatos and paper cups are being thrown now)
"Fatso! Fatso! Bring on Fatso! Get off, you talentless waste of space!
AND you're not allowed to smoke in here!"
Well, sod it then. Did Philip Larkin ever have this trouble, I wonder.