Idiots At Home

For those that don't have Sky TV and can't watch the new Gervais/Merchant show "An Idiot Abroad", I've saved you the trouble...

Pilkington rides into town,
Sent by a one-trick pony
Who likes to mock his so-called 'friend',
To amuse his Merchant crony.

The hapless chap takes lots of crap
And visits seven wonders,
While Pony sits upon his ass
And points out all his blunders.

Eventually the luckless Manc
Has trouble with the natives,
And causes a controversy
By saying something racist.

The Pony's shocked; The 'friend' is dropped:
"We never knew he'd be that blunt!"
And that's when people realise
That Pony's just 
A fucking genius
A comedy genius
The funniest man to walk the planet since Jeremy Beadle! 
Give him awards! 
Give him awards! 
Hallelujah! 
Hallelujah! 
Why do I even fucking bother?

On Behalf Of The Nation, I Apologise To Thomas Cromwell

In five hundred years we've heard the ideas of Paine, and Huxley and Blake,

For five hundred years we've been the premiers in learning for learning's sake.

In fifty decades we freed the slaves and gave women the right to vote,

In fifty decades came Shakespeare's plays and all that Darwin wrote.

In all those days we've changed the ways that we think about science and space,

For all those days we've striven to raise the wisdom and deeds of the race.

Given that time, it seems like a crime to welcome a bigoted Pope.

But needless to say, I'd hug him today if I found out he really smoked dope.

On God's Time

To Laurence and John, lovely blokes the pair.

I stared up at the clock on the tower of St Saviour.

I hadn't really noticed this church before, but

Even though it was ten to seven,

The clock said five to four.

And I wondered about an omnipotent god who couldn't wind his own watch, and

Was always late to brunch.

I thought that maybe God deliberately set the clock to a different timezone, so

Whenever he was in Norwich, He'd know what time it was in Suriname.

I wondered if He had different churches all round Norwich,

Showing the times around the world,

Like they do in the White House, and

Whether He had a team of wise-cracking advisors like Martin Sheen.

And then I wondered why I was wondering, because

I don't believe in God.

And then I realised,

I was probably the massive spliff that UNNAMED FOR LEGAL REASONS and I just smoked.

The Last Poets' Barman

Another one for the Last Barman Poet project:

I'm the Last Poets' barman,
They're in here all the time,
Dreaming of revolution,
With a mix of jazz and rhyme.
Progenitors of hip-hop,
Embarrassed at their luck,
To be considered father
To a bunch of rappers who suck.
Who rap about the rocks they got,
And their new clothing range,
Hardly weighty verse designed
To engender social change.
I'm the Last Poets' barman,
I help them drown their sorrow.
I pour a round and call a toast:
"The Revolution Starts Tomorrow!"