Friday, 7 October 2016
Prince Dobby Launches Poetry Day
from Anarchy Central’s 24/7 Truth & Rumour Mill – with ‘ring of the
anvil’ dispatches hand forged and crafted into bespoke satire to tempt
the palates of all budding non-conformists, proto-nihilists and career
radical pro-justice revolutionaries who carry the immortal bloodline of
the rebel sons of Belial.
Our once-sceptred isle’s ‘King-in-Waiting’ – HRH Prince Chazzer
Saxe-Coburg-Gotha-Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg-Windsor – of
Wales – is to read Seamus Heaney’s poem ‘The Shitting Forecast’ to mark
the start of the 2016 National Poetry Day.
Charlie Big Ears’ recording will be broadcast on BBC Radio 4’s ‘Crap
Hour’ programme as part of the annual nationwide poetry celebration –
with this year’s selected theme being one of ‘Messages’ – and the
brain-dead, text-addicted common herd ‘public demographic’ encouraged to
‘Say it with a Poem, Stupid’.
The gospel according to National Poetry Day director Candida Mingerot
claims “A poem can reach places that prose just can’t – so that’s why
we’re inviting all with anything important to say to express it in
poetic form. It can be new or old, utterly original or a plagiarised
familiar favourite – but definitely no lewd or vulgar limericks,
“Aspiring lyricists and bards can compose verses of a deep and dark
nature – or funny or memorable too – or with a signature anarchist bent
and toss political correctness to the vagaries of the four winds – as
instanced by coupling words in rhyme that draw attention to a social
outrage or scandal – like the UKIP Party punch-ups – or New / Old Labour
being more fucked up than a soup sandwich – or centre on the Boycott,
Divestments and Sanctions campaign against the rogue state of Israel for
their human rights abuses, land thefts and illegal settlements directed
against the hapless and marginalised Palestinian victim population –
and ‘voila’ – you change the nature of the national conversation and
possibly instigate a long overdue socio-political revolution.”
Other poetry events around the UK will include forty BBC local radio
stations who have engaged no less than ‘forty’ local poets to celebrate
England’s best cherished – and reviled – local landmarks in a love /
hate verse format – such as Fish n Chip shops, CCTV cameras, Flatbrokes
the Bookies, job centres, Poundland stores, fracking sites, Wetherspoons
discount booze pubs, welfare benefits assessment offices, police
stations – and not forgetting London’s ‘traffic jam central’ – the M25.
Four young charity-minded poets in Wales – all members of the Bryn Estyn
Masochist Club – have agreed to be sealed in an abandoned mineshaft to
compose 100 poems in 24 hours while flagellating each other with
scourges made from desiccated jellyfish tendrils.
Not wishing to be outdone by their Welsh sheep shagging self-harm
contemporaries, a gaggle of literary student members of Oxford’s
Bullingdon Vandalism Society will spend the 2016 National Poetry Day
necks-deep in the city’s St Hugh’s College septic tank – (once crapped
in by such esteemed academic alumnus as Burmese political stooge Aung
San Suu Kyi, ex Labour trollop Barbara Sandcastle and the Nasty Party’s
very own incumbent transvestite Prime Minister ‘Terry ‘Testosterone’
May) – composing a rhyming thesis on why two of ex-poet laureate Ted
Hughes’ wives – Sylvie Plath ‘and’ Assia Wevill – could get so sick and
tired of his doubly-depressing Crow poems that they’d opt out for
terminal acts of suicide by sticking their individual heads in the
kitchen gas oven.
In Scotland, 380,000 ‘Nonce Ponce’ expose picture postcards will be
given away by Edinburgh’s Caber Tossers Club – while in grotty Glasgow
Big Tissue street vendors will deliver poetry readings around the city
while stoned out of their heads on Shite Lightning cider and attempting
to dodge speeding runaway bin carts.
Meanwhile, across the water, Ulster Orangemen plan to hold the finals of
the Ireland National Poetry competition outside the Stormont Parliament
Buildings, culminating in their annual ‘Burn a Papist’ bonfire and
conducting a bevy of seasonal Molotov cocktail arson attacks on
Belfast’s Wankhill Road Catholic churches.
In what must constitute an ultimate act of utter of irony, poetry-themed
tickets are to be distributed to luckless commuters and passengers (aka
‘The Forgotten’) squatting interminably on the platforms of London’s
major railway stations – in a pathetic effort to divert their irate
attentions from the fact Southern Trains are on strike again – plus
Rattle Track and Notwork Rail suffering a major disruption to services
after gangs of Muslim immigrant scallies stole signal lights and
overhead power cables from mainline routes.
Following his recital of Heaney’s ‘Shitting Forecast’ poem on Channel 4
Radio, Prince Chazzer volunteered to bore listeners with ‘a little verse
from my very own regal hand – composed specially for this occasion’.
“Oh Mummy dear, when will You croak?
For this sixty-odd year reign is beyond a joke,
I clamour to hear your final death rattle groan
So King Charles, Mk 3, might ascend the Throne.
And while Queen Camilla’s busy baking cakes
I can master the art of the Boston Brakes
Then be shut of this chain-smoking nag –
(Spouse number two in a body bag).
Woe betide the fate of any political fool
That tries to deny My Divine Right to Rule
Anarchists & dissenters – all bound for the Tower
When I resurrect Feudal Law to wield Absolute Power
Spitting Images producers – they’re first for the chop,
Along with Burrell, al Fayed and Haynes’ Republican crop,
Then the Poundbury project shall come home to roost
And My Sovereign Grant cops for a ‘times ten’ boost,
With the NHS dispensing homeopathic tinctures and cures,
A panacea for all ills – galloping dandruff to syphilis sores.
That’s what I want, to hear the common herd sing:
God Bless old Chazzer. Long Live the King.
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