There was no shirt of Beckham, And no Zinedine Zidane, And no quaint named shirt of Totti, Who’s apparently a man.

The view from the pub window was interesting – A traditional Mrs. Miniver Cotswold village film set, Upstaged by a technicolour turncoat house at the end of the lane, All four walls completely covered with new money Christmas lights, Like some festive 2 fingers to the rest of the sequestered vale. With a scene like […]

When The steel doors slammed And the gas started its mazy waltz Through the crowd packed chamber, He tried to climb on top of his comrades, Searching for the drops of oxygen To keep his strong lungs pumping, Just like he did a decade ago, Jumping with the wind and clouds, To head the ball […]

First they came for our goalkeeper, He was a Communist, But I wasn’t, So I said nothing. Then they took our wing backs, They were Socialists, But I wasn’t, So I said nothing. Then both our centre backs disappeared, Trades Unionists, But I wasn’t, So I said nothing. The mid-field was hit next, 3 Jews […]

I knew of Mick and I knew of Nick But I didn’t know of your existence, Until early one morning on the number 46, When I was reading a Swindon Town programme, Back in 1992, And you told me that Nicky was your nephew, And I looked at you, someone I had never met or […]