• It’s possible to shout that in umpteen different languages And still mean it. ‘Fee, Fie, Fo, Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman’ And what does that smell like? It smells of Prehistoric Beaker Folk from Europe, Of Celts and Romans and their Auxiliaries from Africa and Asia, Of Picts, and Scots and Angles […]
  • “Is it a tale of self-abuse Or non-violent direct action? Or is it playing fast and loose With discipline and not faction?”
  • Forest Green on TV in the FA Cup, Down here, near Stroud, in the village, Nailsworth, Where I penned this little poem, this poem that I send, Please read the explanatory notes, down at the poem’s end: THE JOURNEY He had a last pint in The Railway in Nailsworth, A gas light shone bright in […]
  • Did anyone else in the crowd at Gloucester City, Watching the football on that cold autumn day, Also see the ghosts of Black Britannia, As I did in that dying sun’s ray, For there they were in numinous glory, And this I tell is their true story: He, African, an auxiliary, She, from the Dobunni, […]
  • By all that’s calendrical, Black History month seems somewhat tokenistic Don’t you think? By all that’s zodiacal, It amounts to just one twelfth of the total, Just 8 point 3 per cent of the annual, Leaving 91 point seven per cent of the year Allocated, presumably, and understandably, To the ceremonies and rituals That mark […]