I stopped playing by the
Thursday, 31 October 2013
Wednesday, 30 October 2013
Politics and ice cream. Really?
Politics and ice cream. Erm.
My favourite ice cream is Notarannis ice cream from South Shore in Blackpool. It's rich but not too rich, unlike the Conservatives and their buddies. It never compromises on it's standards, unlike the Liberal Democrats. Its sometimes served with a flake, pretty much like our coalition government. It never leaves an unpleasant aftertaste, unlike most politicians. It's always better with a bit of red on it. Like all politics. Oh god don't let them get in again in the next election. Do try Notarannis though, it's lovely.
Tuesday, 29 October 2013
Utopia.
I never took much interest in politics until the last few
years. The mysteries of the world didn’t appeal to me as I was enthralled with
the worlds I could create in my head. You could seethe about the ignorance of
this, the fact I was a writer and yet had no real knowledge of what happened
beyond the four walls of my bedroom. That changed though. It had to eventually.
The phrase “ignorance is bliss” had never made more sense to me than in the
last few years and particularly in the current state of our political world. I
didn’t suddenly decide to engage in the affairs of our world (past and present)
on a whim, of course it takes far more than a whim to kick a teenager up the
arse and motivate them.
Studying Shakespeare’s ‘Measure for Measure’ at A level was
what kicked me up the arse. It is, succinctly, a play criticising King James
1sts ruling, the puritan beliefs that dominated at the time it was written
(1603-04), the way the lower classes were controlled, the presentation of
marriage and lots more but the way the society in the play was presented as
being engineered by a corrupt ruler and a set of beliefs swaying how we live
and stringently behave actually frightened and disturbed me. I had always loved
literature, but that play started my passionate exploration into texts old and
modern, which then started my interests in philosophy, history, religion,
politics and psychology. It was then that I realised, to be quite frank, how
fucked our modern world is everywhere and not just in this country.
Recently I’ve been reading Thomas More’s ‘Utopia’ which
nicely coincides for this blog. A lot of the ways in which this fictional island
work I agree with. For example, and this
will come as no surprise to those who know me, their treatment of the natural
land is with preference to cultivate instead of exploit. They reap the full
potential of what the earth provides without destroying it. Their society works
with no particular hierarchy; all Utopians work and wear simple clothing of
undyed wool or linen over practical working clothes. There is no need for
individual display. Nothing is private; the Utopians have evaded private
interest and civil law. Money does not exist. The Utopians have an intense but
healthy appetite for knowledge with lectures lasting throughout the day with a
heavy focus on Greek studies. There are slaves in Utopia, but their slavery is
imposed as a crime not inherited. Foreigners, or prisoners of war, also become
slaves often willingly as it is better than to be subject to poverty which
would be the alternative. This is a penal system that rehabilitates prisoners
rather than merely provides a labour force. When Utopians population rises,
they establish colonies on the mainland wherever there is unused or neglected
land.
These are all wonderful ideas, and portray my own ideas of a
perfect society but what it doesn’t do is consider the raw ugliness of human
nature. Ownership and greed has always streaked through human nature like the
skid marks on a toilet. Property and cash has nearly always been a problem. So
has the fact that those two aspects are only consistent for a select group of
people in society. The penal system, religion, clothing, education have always
been at the mercy of that select group in society.
Perhaps, instead of taking the political ideas of “Utopia”
and questioning its ability to function in our real society and likewise with
other political ideas such as communism, we should instead ask what the hell is
wrong with ours and why (maybe not for us all) Utopia seems so glories, and so
out of reach. Dreams tie hand in hand with politics. The changes, good or bad,
within society start with a dream. My dream is to live in a world where you don’t
have to pay disgusting amounts to be educated (and I want to me a teacher) or
to be fed or to have shelter or to receive healthcare, where the forests and
oceans still flourish and stand in all their glory, where a hierarchy doesn’t
set a cruel status quo, clothes don’t determine who we are, the media doesn’t
manipulate how we receive the news of the world, music and art and literature
are as necessary as breathing, people
don’t kill each other over theory and fancy…. And ice-cream should be 100%
completely free.
Monday, 28 October 2013
Politics, Ice creams and Dreams
Politics, Ice creams
and Dreams
I had a dream
And in that dream there
was trust
And that trust was
justified
And that trust was
gratified
And that trust was
unified
With all my brothers
and sister
I had a dream
And in that dream
politicians cared
And that caring led to
happiness
And that caring rid us
of hopelessness
And that caring gave us
wholesomeness
For all my brothers and
sister
I had a dream
And in that dream love
conquered all
And that love put an
end to hunger
And that love stopped
the warmongers
And the love silenced
the guns of thunder
Between all my brothers
and sisters
Then I woke from this
dream
And I spoke of this
dream
Told my MP about this
dream
To make reality this
dream.
But I might as well
have been driving
A car made or ice cream
For the good it did me.
Sunday, 27 October 2013
Trust: My list of ridiculous experiences.
As Plebgate rolls on and on, for 'lists' week I thought I'd share my most memorable encounters with the police.
I will start by saying that, on the whole, I like to think I could trust the police. Most coppers I have met genuinely want to be a force for good, strive for an excellent service and, rather a lot like soldiers, are tarred by one or two knobheads that decide torture and power are perks of the job. This is ultimately headlined, written in large on the Daily Mail and made as fact. I like to think I could trust 99% of them, but in making this list, perhaps that number is just wildly optimistic.
Saturday, 26 October 2013
Dead Good Poetry Show - Live on Air!
on air now!
Just a reminder that tonight's edition of the Dead Good Poetry Show will be playing for the next two hours on Fylde Coast Community Radio.
Tonight's show will be following a theme of lists. I'm delighted to announce that I have a live interview with local poet and all round top bloke - Emmanuel Tully.
Poetry will come from Robert Frost, William Wordsworth, Carol Ann Duffy, Christian Drake, Roald Dahl, Robert William Service, Sylvia Plath and Andrew Marvell.
And, as always, there will be some great music, related poetry and lots and lots of fun.
If you want to participate can tweet poems to @deadgoodpoets on Twitter, or share poems through the Lancashire Dead Good Poets FaceBook page, or send mail direct to deadgoodpoets@hotmail.co.uk.
As always, we'll read the best stuff out live on air.
To be a part of the experience find Fylde Coast Community Radio on any one of the links below.
Just a reminder that tonight's edition of the Dead Good Poetry Show will be playing for the next two hours on Fylde Coast Community Radio.
Tonight's show will be following a theme of lists. I'm delighted to announce that I have a live interview with local poet and all round top bloke - Emmanuel Tully.
Poetry will come from Robert Frost, William Wordsworth, Carol Ann Duffy, Christian Drake, Roald Dahl, Robert William Service, Sylvia Plath and Andrew Marvell.
And, as always, there will be some great music, related poetry and lots and lots of fun.
If you want to participate can tweet poems to @deadgoodpoets on Twitter, or share poems through the Lancashire Dead Good Poets FaceBook page, or send mail direct to deadgoodpoets@hotmail.co.uk.
As always, we'll read the best stuff out live on air.
To be a part of the experience find Fylde Coast Community Radio on any one of the links below.
David Cameron's Things To Do List
sell some UK assets
help an oxbridge chum
screw the country's voters
soundly up the backside
line the bankers’ pockets
get Nick Clegg on his knees
sanction fuel price hikes
make the old folk freeze
give away Royal Mail
make sure my friends get stocks
keep employing Georgie Osborne
keep sucking Tory lollipops
help my friends dodge taxes
do my business chums a favour
advise the poor to buy jumpers
blame it all on labour
beatify dear Maggie
locate George Osborne's brain
kill more old folk than Harold Shipman
screw Nick Clegg again
destroy a once proud nation
reside at number 10
screw Cleggy for one final time
get voted in again
Friday, 25 October 2013
Brain, don’t fail me now! Oh! You just did!
I
had always thought I was good at remembering things, but when the time came for
me to do my own grocery shopping for the first time, my brain decided to step
out for a while. That’s how it has been ever
since. It will generously allow me to
remember stuff like Birthdays, Anniversaries, appointments, telephone numbers
and Bank Account details most of the time.
But items needed from the shop?
No! Not a chance! You know how
guys hate going shopping? Well that’s my
brain! I once bumped into Ash in a
certain well known supermarket. I was in
a world of my own desperately trying to recall what I needed when he said
hello. It took me a minute to realise
that someone was talking to me, then another moment to realise who it was, my
brain struggling to switch between my own little world and the real one! I seem to recall an amused expression on his
face at the time.
I’d never been one for writing lists, but as I’ve got older, I find it has become a necessity, mostly To Do Lists and Shopping Lists. I also write my appointments on my calendar, although that didn’t stop me forgetting one last week. Thank God for my Mum, who reminded me in the nick of time! I’ve come to the conclusion that it all boils down to age, and tying in with last weeks’ theme, information overload! As an advanced society, we’ve managed to complicate our lives to the point of ridiculousness.
Lists, I’d be lost without them!
I’d never been one for writing lists, but as I’ve got older, I find it has become a necessity, mostly To Do Lists and Shopping Lists. I also write my appointments on my calendar, although that didn’t stop me forgetting one last week. Thank God for my Mum, who reminded me in the nick of time! I’ve come to the conclusion that it all boils down to age, and tying in with last weeks’ theme, information overload! As an advanced society, we’ve managed to complicate our lives to the point of ridiculousness.
One
of my favourite poems’ is “Leisure” by W.H.Davies. So taking his words on board, I’m making time
to “Stand and Stare” and have a little chill out time to clear my thoughts and
remind myself of the simpler things in life.
I think we all need to do this once in a while. De-clutter, de-stress
and the mind flows much more smoothly.
Perhaps then I’ll be able to remember what I went shopping for …..
I must, I MUST remember …….
Why is it I can
remember Birthdays?
Bank account and
telephone numbers,
Anniversaries
and appointments?
But when I’m
shopping my memory slumbers?
It abandons me quite
suddenly,
While I’m
standing in the supermarket,
I stare blankly
at the Brussels Sprouts,
As my neurons
spark and then short circuit.
What did I come
in for?
I’m sure there
were at least a dozen things!
I wander the
aisles aimlessly,
In the hope inspiration
springs.
Was it: eggs,
potatoes, milk and sugar,
Ham, Apples,
juice and spread?
Or was it none
of the above at all,
Just toilet
rolls and bread?
As a result I
end spending money
On items I
didn’t need to buy.
At home I’m well
enough stocked in ketchup,
To keep me going
‘til the Apocalypse is nigh!
I must, I MUST
remember
To write a
shopping list
And when
completed, pop it in my purse
So, when I go
out, it can’t be missed!!
Lists, I’d be lost without them!
Thursday, 24 October 2013
This is Narrow Land
Help! It's turtles all the way down this week! Here's where I started...
'What's the derivation of the word 'list'?'
*looks up 'list' on Google*
'Oh, hang on, I remember writing a blog post about listing once before and I was a proper clever dick, referring to the list of a ship.'
*pauses to bask in the glow of her own glory*
'So, I could write some lines of poetry about being on a boat as it leans into the wind.'
*realises she knows sod all about sailing*
'But hang on, listing is about angles and what I'm doing now is trying to come up with an original angle on the subject of lists...'
*mind temporarily blown*
And that's as far as I got before I started to type this up, such was my amazement at the whole circular list/angle thing. So I guess it's angles all the way down.
*heads back to Google to look up the Angles*
'Wikipedia reckons that the derivation of Angles, as it pertains to the area in Germany (Angeln) where the Angle tribes originated, either means narrow or hook. If I had to pick,'
*I don't have to pick*
'I'd go with narrow and make a joke about the EDL being the 'narrow land' defence league. Narrow land for narrow minded folks who forget that we're all from somewhere else.'
*I have now typed narrow too many times and it looks wrong.*
This reminds me of an observation I made this morning while sitting on the porcelain throne and observing a shiny five pence piece. The lions are fabulous. Have you looked at them recently? So cartoonish. Anyway, it made me wonder why we still use the lion as an emblem of England (Narrow Land).
*heads back to Google to look up lions and England and wonders about the word 'passant' before skimming through a lot of stuff about what it means if the lion's got a paw raised or an eye winking and more 'probably interesting to someone else' information*
'It's French innit? All that heraldic stuff came in with the Normans.'
Conclusion: Initially I'd thought we should get shut of the lion and replace it with a badger. It's fierce, it's native to England and it'd look cute on coinage. But then I realised that the lion shows how we've been exchanging ideas and culture on a global scale for a bloody long time. From Romans to Angles to Normans. And us buggering off round the world looting and discovering and interfering. I daresay we did some good stuff too (but the British Museum should probably give that stuff back even though it's lovely).
So that's my list. It's the order in which stuff fell out of my brain. No poetry I'm afraid. Just ideas.
P.S. I have now also googled 'Narrow Land' by Jack Vance after looking for a suitable image. Apparently it's a book of short stories with the eponymous tale being about 'alien life forms in a hostile environment - and evolution'. Sounds like England to me.
'What's the derivation of the word 'list'?'
*looks up 'list' on Google*
'Oh, hang on, I remember writing a blog post about listing once before and I was a proper clever dick, referring to the list of a ship.'
*pauses to bask in the glow of her own glory*
'So, I could write some lines of poetry about being on a boat as it leans into the wind.'
*realises she knows sod all about sailing*
'But hang on, listing is about angles and what I'm doing now is trying to come up with an original angle on the subject of lists...'
*mind temporarily blown*
And that's as far as I got before I started to type this up, such was my amazement at the whole circular list/angle thing. So I guess it's angles all the way down.
*heads back to Google to look up the Angles*
'Wikipedia reckons that the derivation of Angles, as it pertains to the area in Germany (Angeln) where the Angle tribes originated, either means narrow or hook. If I had to pick,'
*I don't have to pick*
'I'd go with narrow and make a joke about the EDL being the 'narrow land' defence league. Narrow land for narrow minded folks who forget that we're all from somewhere else.'
*I have now typed narrow too many times and it looks wrong.*
This reminds me of an observation I made this morning while sitting on the porcelain throne and observing a shiny five pence piece. The lions are fabulous. Have you looked at them recently? So cartoonish. Anyway, it made me wonder why we still use the lion as an emblem of England (Narrow Land).
*heads back to Google to look up lions and England and wonders about the word 'passant' before skimming through a lot of stuff about what it means if the lion's got a paw raised or an eye winking and more 'probably interesting to someone else' information*
'It's French innit? All that heraldic stuff came in with the Normans.'
Conclusion: Initially I'd thought we should get shut of the lion and replace it with a badger. It's fierce, it's native to England and it'd look cute on coinage. But then I realised that the lion shows how we've been exchanging ideas and culture on a global scale for a bloody long time. From Romans to Angles to Normans. And us buggering off round the world looting and discovering and interfering. I daresay we did some good stuff too (but the British Museum should probably give that stuff back even though it's lovely).
So that's my list. It's the order in which stuff fell out of my brain. No poetry I'm afraid. Just ideas.
Wednesday, 23 October 2013
10 things I think are quite poo
I don't do lists. My head is a mishmash of randomness, as a result I forget things a lot and am very disorganised. I'll give it a try though. Perhaps I could list some things I dislike. Shouldn't take long.
1. The Daily Mail. A huge cup of bile which whips it's readership into a furious rage over breakfast. This rage lasts throughout the day and is shared with anyone sorry enough to encounter them and can't get away quickly enough. Vomiting unfounded 'facts' and fury on buses to startled passengers is a common side effect of reading the Mail.
2. Licorice. It's just horrible. Tastes like satan's dangly's.
3. Blue cheese. If I want to eat mould I'd just get it straight from the bread bin.
4. Game requests on Facebook. Oooh, I have a new notification, I wonder if I've been tagged or if one of my friends has said something interesting on a comment I post...FUUUUUU!
5. People who can't have a debate about an important issue without taking offence or getting personal. This is particularly rife on the tinterwebs. Adolf Hitler's regime is usually used as a comparative at some point.
6. Shabby Chic. Yes lets paint a perfectly good piece of furniture white and 'distress' it badly and flog it to people who think they're being 'alternative'. But they're not, everyone's doing it. Tweeeeeeeeeee.
7. Twilight. The books and movies. Do I really need to explain this one?
8. Crappy crafting blogs. You made jewellery box out of a pringles can an some old doilies? Well done, very productive. Enjoy your cheesy smelling jewellery.
9. Wasps. Sadistic blighters who terrorise BBQ's and small children with ice lollies, no need for it. Stripy winged weapon wielders.
10. Sub list here. A list of words I don't like;
a. Flange
b. Gusset
c. Moist
d. Claggy
e. Clunge
It's just the sound I dislike about these words. Particularly in a sentence all together. A moist claggy clunge in a gusset. Shudder.
1. The Daily Mail. A huge cup of bile which whips it's readership into a furious rage over breakfast. This rage lasts throughout the day and is shared with anyone sorry enough to encounter them and can't get away quickly enough. Vomiting unfounded 'facts' and fury on buses to startled passengers is a common side effect of reading the Mail.
2. Licorice. It's just horrible. Tastes like satan's dangly's.
3. Blue cheese. If I want to eat mould I'd just get it straight from the bread bin.
4. Game requests on Facebook. Oooh, I have a new notification, I wonder if I've been tagged or if one of my friends has said something interesting on a comment I post...FUUUUUU!
5. People who can't have a debate about an important issue without taking offence or getting personal. This is particularly rife on the tinterwebs. Adolf Hitler's regime is usually used as a comparative at some point.
6. Shabby Chic. Yes lets paint a perfectly good piece of furniture white and 'distress' it badly and flog it to people who think they're being 'alternative'. But they're not, everyone's doing it. Tweeeeeeeeeee.
7. Twilight. The books and movies. Do I really need to explain this one?
8. Crappy crafting blogs. You made jewellery box out of a pringles can an some old doilies? Well done, very productive. Enjoy your cheesy smelling jewellery.
9. Wasps. Sadistic blighters who terrorise BBQ's and small children with ice lollies, no need for it. Stripy winged weapon wielders.
10. Sub list here. A list of words I don't like;
a. Flange
b. Gusset
c. Moist
d. Claggy
e. Clunge
It's just the sound I dislike about these words. Particularly in a sentence all together. A moist claggy clunge in a gusset. Shudder.
Monday, 21 October 2013
I just haven't got a clue what to do
This weeks theme is
LISTS.
To be honest, I'm not
very good at TO DO LISTS. If I make one, I forget to look at it, or I
forget to make one in the first place.
This is the only way I
would ever succeed with a TO DO LIST
2. Do at list one thing on your TO DO LIST
3. Go to the pub to celebrate crossing 3 things off your TO DO LIST
I'm not very good with other kinds of LISTS either. SHOPPING LISTS make me buy stuff I
haven't written down. FAVOURITES LISTS drive me mad because I can
never choose a top 5 anything without arguing with myself. Sometimes
my personal discussions escalate and I end up taking myself outside
for a fight, which I'm also not very good at and have lost the last five
times this has happened.
I tried making a HIT
LIST, don't kill anyone. I had a go at a BUCKET LIST but gave up
after I'd acquired a yellow one with a blue handle. I even wrote a
THINGS TO DO BEFORE I'M 50 LIST but then realised I'd actually achieved
most of them already.
It's safe to say that
LISTS and me do not get on. It's just not how my mind works.
LIST OF LISTS (found in
this blog)
2. SHOPPING
3. FAVOURITES
4. HIT
5. BUCKET
6. THINGS TO DO BEFORE I'M 50
LIST OF LISTS (not
found in the blog, but are now in this blog due to this LIST)
2. WISH
3. WAITING
4. PROS & CONS
5. CONTENTS
6. NEW YEARS HONOURS
Sunday, 20 October 2013
Information? We’re swimming in the useless bits.
Evening all.
Firstly, I am mega sorry for being so late with this blog today. I’ve been thinking about the way in which we are provided with so much information sometimes on the news- not necessarily corresponding, nearly always conflicting, that it is hard to even make out what you’ve actually just been told.
One example from this week was that the economy is apparently growing- and yet record numbers are turning to food banks. We hear that HS2 will benefit huge swathes of people and then that a different poll- looking at a completely different set of what if criteria thinks several places might not benefit as much- which isn’t the same as a loss, is it.
The very same mis-information with fracking. How many people have heard the companies themselves admitting that it will make little to no difference to our gas prices (the rest of the world already being so far ‘ahead’ of us)- but on the same report that these things aren’t mentioned on, we hear how it could potentially bring a boom to industry and energy security.
We’re all pretty fed up of the bull, aren’t we. Isn’t it time people were treated as decent, thinking beings and given a decent outlet- I dunno, something like “The News”, on which to see the facts presented, spin free, in bare form and then talked through. This, I suspect is a pipe dream, but until then, we’ll just have to keep filtering through the heaps of partial fact they keep spooning us, in the hope at least then we can find an ounce of sense or reason behind the next scandalous decision (like the most hated disability minister in years being given a new job, enforcing the bedroom tax, for instance). .
Firstly, I am mega sorry for being so late with this blog today. I’ve been thinking about the way in which we are provided with so much information sometimes on the news- not necessarily corresponding, nearly always conflicting, that it is hard to even make out what you’ve actually just been told.
One example from this week was that the economy is apparently growing- and yet record numbers are turning to food banks. We hear that HS2 will benefit huge swathes of people and then that a different poll- looking at a completely different set of what if criteria thinks several places might not benefit as much- which isn’t the same as a loss, is it.
The very same mis-information with fracking. How many people have heard the companies themselves admitting that it will make little to no difference to our gas prices (the rest of the world already being so far ‘ahead’ of us)- but on the same report that these things aren’t mentioned on, we hear how it could potentially bring a boom to industry and energy security.
We’re all pretty fed up of the bull, aren’t we. Isn’t it time people were treated as decent, thinking beings and given a decent outlet- I dunno, something like “The News”, on which to see the facts presented, spin free, in bare form and then talked through. This, I suspect is a pipe dream, but until then, we’ll just have to keep filtering through the heaps of partial fact they keep spooning us, in the hope at least then we can find an ounce of sense or reason behind the next scandalous decision (like the most hated disability minister in years being given a new job, enforcing the bedroom tax, for instance). .
You’re a better man than me if you make sense of it. Until
next week then, here’s a poem.
Dear Controllers of Information.
Feed me all of the statistics
I want to see each little bit
I’ll make up my mind before it gets refined
I’m long past trusting BBC tricks.
I want to see each little bit
I’ll make up my mind before it gets refined
I’m long past trusting BBC tricks.
I remember I learnt in my schooldays
How music is organised sound
How knowledge is power but vast reams of data
Need sorting for their meaning to be found.
How music is organised sound
How knowledge is power but vast reams of data
Need sorting for their meaning to be found.
So don’t tell us one side of the story
This is Britain, we’re not in a Cold War
Don’t we deserve to know, where the money did go
Why the rich pay less tax than the poor
This is Britain, we’re not in a Cold War
Don’t we deserve to know, where the money did go
Why the rich pay less tax than the poor
Because projects might not come in on budget
But the pros can still outweigh the cons
Tell us, why should we back everything you put past us
After so many times, you’ve been wrong.
But the pros can still outweigh the cons
Tell us, why should we back everything you put past us
After so many times, you’ve been wrong.
I propose then a shake up of stats feeds
A straight ban on biased bits of news
Present facts from all sides- if there’s nothing to hide
Then we’ll make up our own bloody views.
A straight ban on biased bits of news
Present facts from all sides- if there’s nothing to hide
Then we’ll make up our own bloody views.
Thanks for reading, S.
Saturday, 19 October 2013
Dead Good Poetry Show - LIVE ON AIR
on air now!
Just a reminder that tonight's edition of the Dead Good Poetry Show will be playing for the next two hours on Fylde Coast Community Radio.
Tonight's show will be a little different. After last week's 'Spot-the-obvious-mistake episode', where most listeners managed to spot that the show wasn't being played, we're back in the studio with some bad tunes and some wicked rhymes.
There will be a live interview with Louise Barklam, I'll be chatting with Nigel, poet in residence for the phone box on Abingdon Street, and we'll be having lots and lots of fun.
As always, you can tweet poems to @deadgoodpoets on Twitter, or share poems through the Lancashire Dead Good Poets FaceBook page, or send mail direct to deadgoodpoets@hotmail.co.uk.
.
To be a part of the experience find Fylde Coast Community Radio on any one of the links below.
Just a reminder that tonight's edition of the Dead Good Poetry Show will be playing for the next two hours on Fylde Coast Community Radio.
Tonight's show will be a little different. After last week's 'Spot-the-obvious-mistake episode', where most listeners managed to spot that the show wasn't being played, we're back in the studio with some bad tunes and some wicked rhymes.
There will be a live interview with Louise Barklam, I'll be chatting with Nigel, poet in residence for the phone box on Abingdon Street, and we'll be having lots and lots of fun.
As always, you can tweet poems to @deadgoodpoets on Twitter, or share poems through the Lancashire Dead Good Poets FaceBook page, or send mail direct to deadgoodpoets@hotmail.co.uk.
.
To be a part of the experience find Fylde Coast Community Radio on any one of the links below.
It's worse than that...
by Ashley Lister
Captain's log, Stardate 24601.69.
Over the past week or so there have been some changes here
aboard the NCC-Dead Good Blog. Away teams have been lost. New crew members have
beamed aboard. Radical shifts in the space/time continuum mean there have been
some alterations to the programming schedule of the blog.
These changes are ongoing for the moment.
,_ENT.jpg)
We hope regular readers appreciate the good stuff we’ve had
and, like the rest of us aboard the NCC-Dead Good Blog, look forward to the
great stuff that’s still to come.
As soon as the shit is wiped from the fan dust
settles I’ll explain more about the new line up. By then you’ll probably have
worked it out for yourself. You’re an astute reader and there’s not much slips
past you.
But, until everything has settled, I thought I would share a
song. Perhaps it will help to explain what’s been happening. Or, perhaps it won’t.
Captain's log, supplemental. As always, we aim to keep the
Dead Good Blog fun and, over the future months, we look forward to boldly going
with you, where few poets have gone before.
Friday, 18 October 2013
R.I.P. I.Q:
It’s strange isn’t it, how, when given a topic you get a marvellous idea of what to write, only to sit down and end up going off in a completely different direction? I had a Poem in mind which was written some months ago now, perhaps even last year, when informed of the topic for this weeks’ blog. I wanted to use it and sound reasonably intelligent. Instead, this following piece came out. Just a mild word of warning, those who have met me at the LDGPS evenings will know that I am an easy-going, laidback kind of individual, this however is, for me, a little vitriolic!
Day to day (because I am currently out of work) besides completing household chores and other necessary tasks or Volunteering at my Son’s School, you will find me sitting in my Kitchen either writing poetry or reading a good book, deliberately avoiding daytime TV and glossy magazines. This is purely because I cannot stand the inane and constant drivel about “Celebrities”. Whether it’s “Who said what”, “who is doing this that or the other”, “who is overweight and hasn’t shifted her baby weight yet”, “Who just had a boobjob or some other cosmetic procedure”, “Which Footballer is the latest weak Sod who couldn’t keep it in his pants”, blah, blah, blah! WHO CARES? Why do we need to know? With all the other problems in the World, in annoys me intensely that there are people who DO give a monkeys about all this “Celeb” rubbish, and shows how shallow society has become. This constant drip feeding of information has overloaded our brains, fattening them with calorific data that has no valid use in OUR lives, to the point where they are turning to mush! I have watched as previous colleagues who I have been able to have a reasonably intellectual conversation with, have turned into shadows of some famous person or other and ended up with the conversational skills of a Cod.
Society has become obsessed. Girls are starving themselves to emulate their idols, having unnecessary plastic surgery and dental work, demanding Designer clothes …. And shoes …. And handbags ….. and jewellery! How have we allowed this to get this far? Would the World end if we didn’t know about Celebrities so called private lives? Of course not! They are people (just about) who are supposed to entertain us …. In Films, on the TV, on the Pitch …. I don’t want to know about their private lives. If they want to act like idiots, fall out of Bars wearing no pants, attack a bystander and get thrown in jail, then that’s entirely up to them. But let us not reward them by giving them MORE attention in the media. Cretins! I have no respect for people like that.
“So? You’re a Celebrity!?”:
So? You’re a Celebrity?
How jolly nice for you!
You get paid lots of money
To do the things you do!
Well, that’s Super, Smashing, Lovely!
You’ve got lots of possessions and a book
About your life, but not written by you
Guess what? I don’t give a F*** !!
You’re in a unique position
You’ve got the attention of the hoards
Find a Cause and get stuck in
Raise THEIR profile across the board
Use your Status for the good of Man!
For Woman and for Child!
Do something useful for God’s Sake!
Not just look pretty and party wild!!
Use your millions that you couldn’t spend
In 10 lifetimes or even more
For the benefit of those less fortunate
For Wildlife, the World, less War!
And don’t do it half-heartedly
Choose something you can do with dedication
Maybe then you gain true acclaim
For Ambassadorial amelioration!!
Ok, deep breaths, calming down now! Thanks for reading! ;-)
Thursday, 17 October 2013
Paper
Eventually, you start closing doors.
It seems that all your life you wanted windows and open vistas. You wanted to visit every country, talk every language, kiss every frog. But saturation comes hard on the heels of the flood.
Eventually, you draw the curtains.
Two hundred television channels scream obscenities, distract with a vacuity you crave. Somewhere, you insist, somewhere amongst the self-assured voices exists a nugget of existential enlightenment. An answer and a question.
Eventually, you flip the switch.
In the dark, LEDs flicker. Something is waiting, the blinking lights tell you, someone has spoken. And you reach for a button and you answer and then you wait.
Eventually, you pause.
There's a sound beneath the gnashing, tapping, humming, screeching, sighing web. It's a whisper, like flesh on paper. It's the sound of breath held. It's fingernails nibbled and hot drinks quietly sipped. It's a biscuit flopping into a mug and the Taoist indifference to its loss.
Eventually, you return to the page.
And the page welcomes you home, prodigal child, as if you'd never been away.
It seems that all your life you wanted windows and open vistas. You wanted to visit every country, talk every language, kiss every frog. But saturation comes hard on the heels of the flood.
Eventually, you draw the curtains.
Two hundred television channels scream obscenities, distract with a vacuity you crave. Somewhere, you insist, somewhere amongst the self-assured voices exists a nugget of existential enlightenment. An answer and a question.
Eventually, you flip the switch.
In the dark, LEDs flicker. Something is waiting, the blinking lights tell you, someone has spoken. And you reach for a button and you answer and then you wait.
Eventually, you pause.
There's a sound beneath the gnashing, tapping, humming, screeching, sighing web. It's a whisper, like flesh on paper. It's the sound of breath held. It's fingernails nibbled and hot drinks quietly sipped. It's a biscuit flopping into a mug and the Taoist indifference to its loss.
Eventually, you return to the page.
And the page welcomes you home, prodigal child, as if you'd never been away.
Wednesday, 16 October 2013
Get out of my brain you invasive w***ers
The government aren't much better, meddling in my life and lying to me. The smug faced politicians insisting they are doing the right thing by my family and me and I know they are shafting me. Get out of my head, you make my teeth itch and I couldn't give a flying f*** at a rolling doughnut what you say, I know you're wrecking society.
But I'll carry on as normal, hide away when I need to and try to restrain myself from screaming out loud at the unknown entities who try to control every aspect of my life. It's hard though. Twitch.
Monday, 14 October 2013
Saturday, 12 October 2013
Annabel Lee visits Blackpool
a collaboration between Edgar Allan Poe and Ashley Lister
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee
And she worked by the tower,
for three quid an hour
Near that bingo that sells
the cheap tea.
I’d just left school and
she’d just left school
In this kingdom by the sea
This was back in an age,
before minimum wage
I and my Annabel Lee
When three quid an hour,
wasn’t bad by the tower
In this kingdom by the sea
We worked day-long shifts,
selling rock and crap gifts
I and my Annabel Lee
We worked all summer-through,
flogging plastic dog-poo
To those visiting by the sea.
And we loved with a love that
was more than a love
I and my Annabel Lee
With a love that the managers’
watching above
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that,
long ago
In this kingdom by the sea
That the bosses, those
tossers, who wielded the power
Came down from their seats in
their ivory tower
Decrying and lying, defying
belief
Blaming her, claiming that
she was a thief
And sacking my Annabel Lee
Cruelly firing – no chance of
rehiring –
My beautiful Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger
by far than the love
Of those bosses that tore us
apart
Yes, she’d taken some stock,
Twenty gross of cheap rock
But she also had stolen my
heart
And some cuddly toys, And
kids hats for small boys
But she also had stolen my
heart
And a case of key rings, And
some other cheap things
But she also had stolen my
heart
Now the moon never beams,
without bringing me dreams
Of my beautiful Annabel Lee.
She works on a car boot, selling
dodgy nicked loot
From this kingdom by the sea
And the managers watching,
covetously above
Can never dissever my soul
from the love
Of my beautiful Annabel Lee
And, cos I keep supplying,
the stuff that she’s buying
In this kingdom by the sea.
Our love is uplifting,
because I keep shoplifting
For my beautiful Annabel Lee.
Thursday, 10 October 2013
Being Human
It seems only right that I asked my daughter, Raven, to join me on the blog this week. She memorised the eponymous poem some time ago but most of it has now been replaced in her head by less useful material such as the periodic table, quotes from Supernatural and unforgettable scenes from fanfiction. Personally, I think if your name is Poe you're going to write poetry. Likewise, if your name is Raven you're going to rave, or make a lot of noise, or scare sickly writers. Something like that.
Raven decided to honour 'he of the macabre symbol' with this poem:
Poe
Edgar Allen Poe quoth the word nevermore
Eighty five years before the Second World War
Wed his sickly cousin, who was only thirteen
Then killed off his players like young Usher Madeline.
Renowned world wide as an author workaholic
But also for his tenancy as demon alcoholic.
His image is iconic, as is his facial fur
His hands were always busy with ink or liqueur.
Til his untimely demise put a stop to his quill
Discovered in the early hours of Boston's autumn chill.
And from the words of a long dead poet inspiring a young, new poet to a very short review of something equally wonderful. Last night David Riley and I drove to Manchester University to see the staging of Neil Astley's incredibly popular poetry collection, Being Human. Three players took to an economical set to perform a selection of poems from the anthology. If you want to read what the audiences and critics have said, go here. I don't think the praise goes far enough. David and I are ruined for poetic performances for the foreseeable future. Je ne regrette rien.
Being Human: Poetry in Performance is like a concentration of every momentous life event from birth to death, wrapped up in all those quiet moments, the shrieks and the murmurs. It pulls in love and war, fear and hope and it reminds at every moment what it is to be human, to share this experience of living. These powerful, rich, poignant, careful poems are embodied by the players so that the emotions are raw and close. I cried several times. I cried out of sadness, at the futility of war and harm, I cried at the beauty of the human condition, at the depth of loss and at the empathy which reminds us that we are the same for all our differences. More than anything else, this performance nourished me to my core. I can still feel its warmth at my centre.
Put simply, I cannot recommend this highly enough. This is exactly what poetry in performance should do. Every word was clear and every image delivered with a simple honesty. I can honestly say I understood every poem. One piece, an excerpt from Turkish Poet Edip Cansever's Table, was performed several times with a different emphasis on each occasion. The poem is about life and what we choose to put on our table. By performing it with a positive slant, then with an angry attitude and finally as a group performance, an extra dimension was added to that poem which neatly summed up the idea that life is what you make of it. Both David and I were moved by Doris Kareva's poem, Shape of Time, and its hopeful message of unity. There wasn't a dull moment in the hour long event.
If you want to see how powerful poetry is. If you want to know how poetry must be performed. If you want to know what binds us and why we need each other. If you are breathing. You must see this performance. You'll have to travel a bit further to catch it next but trust me on this, it is absolutely worth the journey.
Raven decided to honour 'he of the macabre symbol' with this poem:
Poe
Edgar Allen Poe quoth the word nevermore
Eighty five years before the Second World War
Wed his sickly cousin, who was only thirteen
Then killed off his players like young Usher Madeline.
Renowned world wide as an author workaholic
But also for his tenancy as demon alcoholic.
His image is iconic, as is his facial fur
His hands were always busy with ink or liqueur.
Til his untimely demise put a stop to his quill
Discovered in the early hours of Boston's autumn chill.
And from the words of a long dead poet inspiring a young, new poet to a very short review of something equally wonderful. Last night David Riley and I drove to Manchester University to see the staging of Neil Astley's incredibly popular poetry collection, Being Human. Three players took to an economical set to perform a selection of poems from the anthology. If you want to read what the audiences and critics have said, go here. I don't think the praise goes far enough. David and I are ruined for poetic performances for the foreseeable future. Je ne regrette rien.
Being Human: Poetry in Performance is like a concentration of every momentous life event from birth to death, wrapped up in all those quiet moments, the shrieks and the murmurs. It pulls in love and war, fear and hope and it reminds at every moment what it is to be human, to share this experience of living. These powerful, rich, poignant, careful poems are embodied by the players so that the emotions are raw and close. I cried several times. I cried out of sadness, at the futility of war and harm, I cried at the beauty of the human condition, at the depth of loss and at the empathy which reminds us that we are the same for all our differences. More than anything else, this performance nourished me to my core. I can still feel its warmth at my centre.
Put simply, I cannot recommend this highly enough. This is exactly what poetry in performance should do. Every word was clear and every image delivered with a simple honesty. I can honestly say I understood every poem. One piece, an excerpt from Turkish Poet Edip Cansever's Table, was performed several times with a different emphasis on each occasion. The poem is about life and what we choose to put on our table. By performing it with a positive slant, then with an angry attitude and finally as a group performance, an extra dimension was added to that poem which neatly summed up the idea that life is what you make of it. Both David and I were moved by Doris Kareva's poem, Shape of Time, and its hopeful message of unity. There wasn't a dull moment in the hour long event.
If you want to see how powerful poetry is. If you want to know how poetry must be performed. If you want to know what binds us and why we need each other. If you are breathing. You must see this performance. You'll have to travel a bit further to catch it next but trust me on this, it is absolutely worth the journey.
Wednesday, 9 October 2013
Poe selecta
It's nearly time for scary stories and grim tales of gore....no put the gazette down I mean it's nearly halloween. I'm quite fussy about my ghost stories. Many follow a formula "and then a skeleton popped out" as they say on the Creepypasta website (a site where anyone can submit a scary story and readers can rate them). It's very easy to write a bad ghost story. Many are predictable and formulaic. Check out Creepypasta for example. Here Most of the best scary stories are based on what we can't see, and Edgar Allan Poe was great at this.Creating atmosphere as well as original stories.
Many of his stories can be read here
I recommend The tell tale heart. Sleep well.
Many of his stories can be read here
I recommend The tell tale heart. Sleep well.
Tuesday, 8 October 2013
A swinging time with Edgar Allan Poe.
I can’t imagine he was particularly a party animal, but his
poems are the reason I started writing. The disturbing images and beautiful
rhyme are so perfectly evocative and haunting. Poe drew my attention to the
power of language, and that’s where I first fell in love with words. For this
blog, I’m going to put in a poem I wrote in sixth form. I was bored in a class,
and recently distressed over a broken friendship so in with my disengaged mind
was mulling over it. During the teaching hour a magpie fluttered onto a metal
beam crossing the window and inspiration struck. Here is my own version of ‘The
Raven’.
Little magpie, your life is coincidentally small, cruelly
reminding me of mine,
Perched upon steel in a concrete jungle, preening, dreaming.
Your feathers twined with darkness, glistening with the skies
tears,
And though you don’t fix your gaze, I know you can feel my
sorrow.
I could easily say you are out to prey,
With a beak of melancholic grey, away,
From sunshine and laughter in which all is reflected in day,
For you seem to be the night when you flutter out to play.
You could be the reason my stomach hurts so,
Your deep aching pecks spreading ice with each blow.
And you could take joy in the cracks, now dispersing,
Along my childlike heart, time echoing and reversing.
My blood would look pretty in your feathers, a crimson gloss
of pain,
So I imagine it to be what you are preening, not the hot
summer rains.
I could imagine that Morrigan has sent you, hands knitted
with glee,
Sensing the chaotic war that writhes within me.
But alas you are gone now, leaving nothing behind,
But my worry still lingers along with the tick tock of time.
Away with Morrigan; magpie, there’s no war to be won,
If you temper my fire, I will reach for the gun.Monday, 7 October 2013
In memories not forgotten - A tribute to Edgar Allan Poe by Colin Davies
In memories not
forgotten - A tribute to Edgar Allan Poe by Colin Davies
In death you sleep with
the dark ones
Shadows falling on you
like silk
“Peace now” she
whispers in the rain
And the Raven hangs
his head, in silence
Images live in words
because you dreamt
Feelings entwined in
night air
“Live long” she
whispers in the distance
And the Raven hangs his
head, in silence
The words stop coming
but live forever
Your legacy haunts the
halls of modern minds
“I love you” she
whispered in the morning
And the Raven hangs
his head, in silence.Sunday, 6 October 2013
Blackpool Illuminations: A Visitor Appeal
A Visitor Appeal
Have you been to the Illuminations?
There's apparently some in Walsall
The Blackpool of the Midlands- houses falling apart
Is it fair to compare? Not at all.
But the world famous Wurlitzer organ
Have you heard one of those played before
We've a fine specimen, even Brucie has seen
Come and dance on the Tower's sprung floor.
You look like you might need a chuckle
Try the comedy carpet for size
We've no handprints of stars but there's jokes over ours
Guaranteed to bring joy to your lives
Whilst you're here, take a ride on the Big One
See the lions and tigers at' zoo
There's so much to be done, we can promise you fun
With all this, you'll find something to do.
So I ask again, have you seen t'lumies
Stretching out from Starr Gate seven miles
You could drive, take a tram, spend some time with your gran
but just come, bring your money with you.
Thanks for reading,
S.
Have you been to the Illuminations?
There's apparently some in Walsall
The Blackpool of the Midlands- houses falling apart
Is it fair to compare? Not at all.
But the world famous Wurlitzer organ
Have you heard one of those played before
We've a fine specimen, even Brucie has seen
Come and dance on the Tower's sprung floor.
You look like you might need a chuckle
Try the comedy carpet for size
We've no handprints of stars but there's jokes over ours
Guaranteed to bring joy to your lives
Whilst you're here, take a ride on the Big One
See the lions and tigers at' zoo
There's so much to be done, we can promise you fun
With all this, you'll find something to do.
So I ask again, have you seen t'lumies
Stretching out from Starr Gate seven miles
You could drive, take a tram, spend some time with your gran
but just come, bring your money with you.
Thanks for reading,
S.
Saturday, 5 October 2013
Dead Good Poetry Show - Live on Air Now!
on air now!
Just a reminder that tonight's edition of the Dead Good Poetry Show will be playing for the next two hours on Fylde Coast Community Radio.
On tonight's show there will be recordings 'live from the No. 5' including David Riley, Anne Ward, Lisa Bower and Cerridwen Lee as well as many others.
There will also be the announcement of winners of Colin Davies's Anagramaphobia in our exclusive poetry competition - and we'll be looking at some of the superb entries that have been sent in for this competition.
I'm hoping to have a live chat with local rapper and word-artist Grozwel.
And, as always, there will be some great music, live poetry and lots and lots of fun. The theme this week is "Illuminations" - which means there should be some extremely dodgy connections to lights, electricity, rain and walking.
Tweet poems to @deadgoodpoets on Twitter, or share poems through the Lancashire Dead Good Poets FaceBook page, or send mail direct to deadgoodpoets@hotmail.co.uk.
To be a part of the experience find Fylde Coast Community Radio on any one of the links below.
Just a reminder that tonight's edition of the Dead Good Poetry Show will be playing for the next two hours on Fylde Coast Community Radio.
On tonight's show there will be recordings 'live from the No. 5' including David Riley, Anne Ward, Lisa Bower and Cerridwen Lee as well as many others.
There will also be the announcement of winners of Colin Davies's Anagramaphobia in our exclusive poetry competition - and we'll be looking at some of the superb entries that have been sent in for this competition.
I'm hoping to have a live chat with local rapper and word-artist Grozwel.
And, as always, there will be some great music, live poetry and lots and lots of fun. The theme this week is "Illuminations" - which means there should be some extremely dodgy connections to lights, electricity, rain and walking.
Tweet poems to @deadgoodpoets on Twitter, or share poems through the Lancashire Dead Good Poets FaceBook page, or send mail direct to deadgoodpoets@hotmail.co.uk.
To be a part of the experience find Fylde Coast Community Radio on any one of the links below.
Alternative Route
by Ashley Lister
Whenever I see the illuminations, I often wonder how something so well-organised could have been managed by Blackpool Council. The poem below gives a fuller picture of how I perceive Blackpool Council to operate.
Alternative Route
The mayor approached Blackpool Council
He looked as sad as the saddest sick
pup.
“It’s a blow to the town,”
he said with a frown.
“But there’s a road that we’ve not yet
dug up.”
The councillors cried out in horror
Their responses could not have been more
shocked
They whispered and mumbled
And griped and then grumbled
Cos they knew every road should be blocked.
“It’s a breach of council policy,” one
cried.
“The tax payers will think it’s a con.
They know it’s our jobs
To all act like knobs.
And stop roads from being driven upon.”
Another one paled rather gravely.
“This is the bad news that I’ve always feared.
For a century or more
Blackpool’s had just one law:
To make drivers regretting coming here.”
“How did this oversight happen?”
Asked a councillor who’d been quietly
lurking
“You should feel like a fool.
Don’t you know it’s Blackpool?
Where none of the roads should be
working.”
“I have messed up here,” said the mayor.
“They say I couldn’t find tits on a
whore.
What I wanted to do
Was stop each of you
From driving from North to South Shore.”
“I think I should hand in my notice,” he
said.
“And don’t worry, I won’t start a fight.
But since he paid us today,
Amounderness Way
Should be renamed after
Eric Wright.”
Some of the council protested
And some of them taunted with jibes
But they did let him go
Because most, as you know,
Wanted their crack at his bribes.
“We are elected officials,” said the
mayor.
“We’re the ones the el-ect-or-ate
chose.”
It doesn’t matter
That our wallets get fatter
And we don’t know our arse from elbows.”
“What matters is our moral obligation
We should forget about creaming off
loot.
But before I resign
I’d like to sell some old signs:
I’ve got eight gross saying, please use alternative route.”
Thursday, 3 October 2013
Den of Thieves
Illumination.
Light bulb.
Guiding light.
Dazzling mind.
The fire inside.
Sparks. Arcs.
Heat. Neat.
It's National Poetry Day. The theme is water. Water and electricity don't mix.
If education is electricity, business is water.
Extinguished.
Dampened voices. Drowned out.
Dim.
Washed up. Foggy.
Wasted.
SWIM.
Image from www.timeshighereducation.co.uk
Light bulb.
Guiding light.
Dazzling mind.
The fire inside.
Sparks. Arcs.
Heat. Neat.
It's National Poetry Day. The theme is water. Water and electricity don't mix.
If education is electricity, business is water.
Extinguished.
Dampened voices. Drowned out.
Dim.
Washed up. Foggy.
Wasted.
SWIM.
Image from www.timeshighereducation.co.uk
Wednesday, 2 October 2013
Look at the pretties!
Free. Not often you get something for free is it? They might be a bit naff but Blackpool illuminations are one fo the few things left that people can appreciate without cost. Thats the beauty of them for me. Not just because I'm skint and tighter than a tramp with his last bottle of cider, but because for all their tacky glory they are something that can be appreciated without obligation.
We have adverts polluting our vision every time we leave the house, with glorious graphics and intricate designs it's hard to get away from someone trying to cajole us into purchasing their wares. Vision pollution, each fighting for our attention and forcing themselves uninvited into our subconscious. Gives me brain indigestion. If someone popped their head in front of me and waved a product in my face 24/7 restraining orders would be involved. Against me.
Blackpool illuminations might be a bit old, a bit battered and somewhat random but that's what I like about them, they are there for their own sake. No-one (save for the odd sponsor) is trying to make me buy their overpriced gubbins. Yes, I guess the reason they exist is to draw cashflow into the town but it's not compulsory to go and see them. It's quite a nice walk with a bag of chips on a dry evening in between bodyswerving the guys rattling buckets. "I pay me council tax doncha know!" There are still some up I remember from my childhood and it's nice to see them alongside the newer creations. It's nice that my kids still think they are magical.
There was uproar here when the Council started charging to see the switch on, not just because people didn't want to pay, but because it took something from the spirit of the lights. Start charging to see them too, and people will expect chuffing holograms, flash CGI effects and graphics and a new set each year for their cash, which would be worse. Or lights featuring warbling contestants from the X Factor complete with Cowell and his uber pants. Hideous.
Keep em naff, keep em free, and avoid the guy with the light up swords like a venereal disease.
We have adverts polluting our vision every time we leave the house, with glorious graphics and intricate designs it's hard to get away from someone trying to cajole us into purchasing their wares. Vision pollution, each fighting for our attention and forcing themselves uninvited into our subconscious. Gives me brain indigestion. If someone popped their head in front of me and waved a product in my face 24/7 restraining orders would be involved. Against me.
Blackpool illuminations might be a bit old, a bit battered and somewhat random but that's what I like about them, they are there for their own sake. No-one (save for the odd sponsor) is trying to make me buy their overpriced gubbins. Yes, I guess the reason they exist is to draw cashflow into the town but it's not compulsory to go and see them. It's quite a nice walk with a bag of chips on a dry evening in between bodyswerving the guys rattling buckets. "I pay me council tax doncha know!" There are still some up I remember from my childhood and it's nice to see them alongside the newer creations. It's nice that my kids still think they are magical.
There was uproar here when the Council started charging to see the switch on, not just because people didn't want to pay, but because it took something from the spirit of the lights. Start charging to see them too, and people will expect chuffing holograms, flash CGI effects and graphics and a new set each year for their cash, which would be worse. Or lights featuring warbling contestants from the X Factor complete with Cowell and his uber pants. Hideous.
Keep em naff, keep em free, and avoid the guy with the light up swords like a venereal disease.