To lay train tracks

Precision is required. 

Sleepers sunk slowly into the ground.

Equidistant. Far enough apart to be economic

Close enough to be supportive.

Rivets through steel into wood.

Love and care is put into the first one laid.

The second, the third, due attention is paid.

4, 5, 6, 7, 8, a rhythm this worker creates.

Original beauty, becomes duty

Until the trade is done.
From a window view this duty is run.

The single sleepers when speed applied 

The recurring blur arrives. 

So when you stare from your carriage chair

There is beauty you cannot deny.
One day my love our train will terminate.

It will reach its final stop.

Baby look into my eyes and enjoy the time we have got.

I was wrong my live I don’t want this blur to stop.

I know in my heart that if it is death that do us part, 

Remember we reached the Tip Top.


I’m trapped,

I’m trapped within my own thoughts, I cannot adequately explain why. They travel from my brain to my mouth, are chained at my tongue, then choke in my throat. 

I live for language. I believe the worlds problems can be resolved through words alone, yet I cannot solve my problems through these words, or is it that I’m scared to. 

I live in fear that the one I love will silence our laughs when my truth is out. I am scared to speak my mind as society may not deem it safe to be spoken. 

Even here I find my woe as the one that cannot know will unwrap the riddle of my words. 

I am uncertain of the reaction that my semantic choices will cause, will it be love they reciprocate, or will it be rage, as they break the cage, opening up my breast, about broken hearts they do know best.

Empty Words 

“Man up” they say, sniggering at the way, I let those words get to me. “Grow a pair” they said, as I stare in the mirror thinking on how they hurt me. “You are so cute” are empty words they say as they say “go away” politely. Once in a while when they crack a smile because of what I’ve said, those twinkling eyes excite me. To make others happy to fill them with joy numbs the isolation that fills me. 

The Art of the funny

Many say that the most talented actors are the comedians not the dramatists. I’m not refering to the cheap and easy pie in the face comedy not too distant from a circus tent. Think of comedic greats of the acting world they all have something particular to define themselves. Charlie Chaplain had his movement and clever unexpected slapstick to thank. Robin Williams had his huge vocal range and his ability to change his expression to represent every palletable human emotion. Sir David Jason the Delboy Trotter had such perfect delivery and timing, to create his failing yet charming character which we instantly fell I love with. And I think that is is, the art of the funny. The one thing that every comedian needs, possibly the only thing a comedian needs is timing. Still not convinced? Let me expand, the famous scene in only fools and horses when Delboy falls backwards through the now open bar hatch he had previously been leaning on. What makes this funny? You can see it happening a mile off he stands up straight to let the barmaid through and she leaves the hatch open. He seals his fate with the utterance “play it nice and cool” to Trigger at this point the laughter has built up in the audiences lungs pandemonium is about to ensue, the audience need a que to release it. The key to it is the silence. The slight pause when Derek “Delboy” Trotter smiles contently as he feels himself turning into the suave womaniser he thinks he truly is. Then he falls like a plank through the hatch with a loud thud. Laughter then erupts. 
This brilliance helps to highlight the excellence of the British sit-com and why it is so fundamentally different and in many ways superior to that of the American sit com. The American sit-com has a protagonist, he is the guy. Your Jerry Seinfeld, Ray Romano they out wit the less intelligent stupid characters and the people around them. We laugh with them throwing insults that only the audience is privy to not the fool he is belittling. The British comedian wants to play the fool they are David Brent with his horrendous singing and his guitar, they are Simon Cooper slapping his penis to get it to work. They are John Cleese trying to flog a dead parrot in Monty Python. American comedy makes the audience want to be that character, British comedy is full of the characters around us. We knew a Simon Cooper growing up, we work with a David Brent now. But okay I do admit most of the British population haven’t had John Cleese flog us a dead parrot called Polly. 

Making a character funny  is harder than making a character act sad. So when sadness is broken up with moments of comedy that is when magic seems to happen. Take a cult classic thriller, Pulp Fiction.It deals with drugs, gang violence, murder and even rape and yet it is made funny through timing and delivery. In the film John Travoltas Vincent Vega unintentionally shoots Marvin in the face whilst carelessly waving around a gun. After the gun goes off Jules Played by Samuel L Jackson shouts “what the fuck just happened” Vince Vega calmly replies with “aww man I just shot Marvin in the face” he repeats this twice in the same suppressed voice, a man has just been shot in the face and head has exploded and yet the audience is in stitches. Delivery is everything, it can make the sad funny and the funny, hysterical.

It takes someone special to act in this way,  comedians over the years have bought joy to the hearts and minds of many, we love them it gives us release from our own life and our own troubles so that we may laugh at someone else’s. So I’ll leave you with this:

“I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy. Because they know what it is like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anybody else to feel like that”- Robin Williams 

Lost in translation (A level writing task)

Lost in TranslationWhy parents struggle to understand their kids?


Close your eyes, it’s a Saturday night, you are sitting in your friend’s bedroom, listening to music, getting dressed for the big night out. You sip barely alcoholic beverages to appease your parents. Sound familiar to those of you now entering that middle phase of life? That was the 1980s, every boy thought he was John Travolta or Patrick Swayze, Intent on sweeping a Jennifer Grey off her feet.


Now think of today, do you hear your teenage children listening to technotronic in their bedroom before a night out. I thought not, more than likely it is the harsh sound of Grime or House music, who’s lyrics alike mention activities and experiences that keep parents awake at night. In your eyes sex, drugs and rock and roll will be the least of worries to your fearful minds.


So you wonder to yourself how has it changed, in what appears to you as a blink of an eye. No longer do kids go to discos over an evening with their mates back in bed by midnight. Instead they roam the streets, smoking cheap cigarettes and swilling cheap liquor. Or on occasion even worse they are at a vacant friend’s house whose unsuspecting parents living room has been turned into a soiree, where they are free from the eyes of the “feds” that may also prowl the streets.


For you the ‘D’ word keeps you up at night. You think you know the terms, you think you have been there, and know all there is to know. But in deception the ‘yutedem’ seem to thrive, you could search every nook and cranny of their bedrooms and not find a thing. The words you knew are gone, so are the drugs, in their search for delirium the drugs are stronger the dosage higher. So bear in mind, to your kids Grass isn’t only on the ground, snow doesn’t just fall from the sky and riding on a horse isn’t the only thing its good for.


Have you ever heard of ‘peak’, ‘big’ or ‘whack’? Of course you have but their meanings have been altered. To you it seems they do this to spite your gentle mature selves, but this is not the case. The colloquialism of a particular child isn’t determined by a parent or a location more by the culture they immerse themselves in, nowadays it is more than common to hear a young girl from Kensington to describe their day as ‘ bashy’ or ‘bait’. The phrase “it’s all Greek to me” Does not do this justice. However that is the nature of this changing language, in 20 years Maybe peak will just mean good.


Now even from my desk I can hear those grey hairs growing and that bead of sweat rolling down your forehead. So let me quell your grievances. This generation is already seeming more intelligent than us and is not stupid. They young and put under endless pressure. They are expected to Study for school, be active, have a part time job and a social life. So surely they can be allowed a little fun. The lifestyle they live is almost encouraged by their music, its far cry from club Tropicana, but now the drinks are not free. The drinks are safer than ever; the streets are safer than ever and so are the dreaded drugs. Keep your kids educated and they will find their own way. One final point, don’t try and use their language it will embarrass us greatly, wait is that such a bad thing?