Not cricket

Consider lockdown as a ball kicked from pillar to post, is this the most that we can hope for closed in behind a bolted door looking out of a barred window?…

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A holiday must be on the cards

I’d like to sit on the deckchair in my backyard and watch the daffodils grow, have a barbecue a beer or two, wear my Jesus sandals with socks of course because as you already know fashion has its home in the North, listen to the wireless set I wonder if Cowdrey’s got his century yet,…

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No balls

Mechani’ reckon I think automation is a form of castration we’ll al be singing falsetto if we let go of manual labour in favour of machinery it’s chicanery on a grand scale…

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The pitch

I pick up a pen to write and then the night calls me, literacy falls by the wayside I go topside, all’s forgotten in the heat where dark corners meet and congregate, the paper waits for an explanation I type my resignation under the lights of an examination by the typing pool. She uses oxymoron’s…

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