Spoken Word Poetry
Showing posts with label Fekenham Influences. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fekenham Influences. Show all posts

Thursday, 5 November 2009

Pressed Rat and Warthog



A sly fox of a song, one that slipped onto Cream's 1968 album 'Wheels of Fire' in between some incredible songs by Jack Bruce and Pete Brown plus some of Clapton's finest guitar playing. This song was by Ginger Baker and Mike Taylor and somehow fitted in neatly with this more experimental album.


Pressed rat and warthog have closed down their shop.
They didn’t want to; ’twas all they had got.
Selling atonal apples, amplified heat,
And pressed rat’s collection of dog legs and feet.


Sadly they left, telling no one goodbye.
Pressed rat wore red jodhpurs, warthog a striped tie.
Between them, they carried a three-legged sack,
Went straight round the corner and never came back.


Pressed rat and warthog have closed down their shop.
The bad captain madman had told them to stop
Selling atonal apples, amplified heat,
And pressed rat’s collection of dog legs and feet.


The bad captain madman had ordered their fate.
He laughed and stomped off with a nautical gate.
The gate turned into a deroga tree
And his pegleg got woodworm and broke into three.


Pressed rat and warthog have closed down their shop.
They didn’t want to; ’twas all they had got.
Selling atonal apples, amplified heat,
And pressed rat’s collection of dog legs and feet.






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aNOtHEr dIp INtO ThE mAGpIE mEMOrY pOOoL.

Tuesday, 29 September 2009

Under Milk Wood




I know little of poets apart from this man and even then, to my shame still not enough. I recall it being said by one of my English lit masters that Dylan Thomas was often thought of as being too fond of wordplay. As ever in my school career, I was at odds with this point of view as I was with much of what I was taught, or rather what I wasn't taught. Dylan Thomas was everything that I would want a poet to be: passionate and wordy. Oh, for sure I love the works of Basho and also of Haiku but I have always found far too much math is employed in the construction of poetry and at times that can blind you to the real joy and beauty of the piece. Of course, that is just my jaundiced opinion.

This incredible radio play, as it was originally, is, as far as I am concerned, poetry. Richard Burton's warm tones add a depth and richness to the tale that in itself weaves its wordy way through the dreams and day to day doings of this fictional Welsh town. The characters are as real and surreal as you could ask for; their lives resonate with a truth. It was and still is a fabulously imaginative play.
I often place the cassette ( a thing of the past those) into the slot and have a quiet hour or so's listen.
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aNOtHEr dIp Into ThE mAGpIE mEMOrY pOOoL.

Saturday, 11 April 2009

The Carry On Films




Where would my Village Tales of Fekenham Swarberry be without this wonderful series of films? Bawdy, risqué and sometimes just damn silly but always funny, the irrepressible Carry On series that featured so many irreplaceable and unique character actors and all under one banner. I mean, how could the likes of Frankie Howard, Sid James, Charles Hawtrey, Kenneth Williams, Kenneth Connor, Joan Sims, Hattie Jacques, Barbara Windsor, Patsy Rowlands, Peter Butterworth, Terry Scott, Jim Dale, Peter Gilmore, Bernard Bresslaw, June Whitfield, Jack Douglas and Dilys Laye all appear, at different times of course, together on one set? Just the thought of Sid James besides Kenneth Williams is enough to set the pulse pounding. A truly remarkable set of films that can never be replaced or repeated so I wonder why on earth someone intends to start them up again?



Wot a fab Carry On!

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aNOtHEr dIp INtO ThE mAGpIE mEMOrY pOOoL.

Monday, 24 November 2008

DaDs Army






Without a shadow of doubt, this is my all time favourite TV comedy, sorry, SITCOM. Oh, there have been comedy programmes that I have enjoyed over the years that have been nearly as good but nearly isn't good enough, is it?

The characters of course are what made this terrific series. Aged, Grumpy, soft around the edges, curmudgeonly and wonderfully idiosyncratic. All of them, apart from Ian Lavender, were of course actors near the ends of their careers and this seemed to give a relaxed and natural performance to the show. The scripts were delightfully silly and yet, one suspects, far nearer the truth than anyone would like to admit.
The overly pompous Captain Mainwairing and his ever brow beaten number two, Sargeant Wilson. Corporal Jones whose memory of previous wars and battles burnt ever bright. The Scottish undertaker who always had a rum tale to tell. Each character uniquely different to the other. So very British and so very funny.
They don't like it up 'em and they don't write 'em like this anymore.
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aNOtHEr dIp INtO ThE mAGpIE mEMOrY pOOoL.