Critics Page

“I don’t really care David, What do you want for dinner?”
his mum

“You will be hearing from my lawyer”.
The Dalai Lama

“Stop sending me emails. I do not want to be your friend”.
Stephen Fry

“Who are you? How did you get my personal mobile number?”
Paul Weller

“You have ruined all forms of poetry for me, I can not bring myself to read any more. Your poetry is truly awful, you should be ashamed of yourself. It is people like you who give the internet a bad name”.
The Times Education Supplement

“He is to Poetry what Einstein was to cricket. I don’t want to swear in public. He makes me physically ill”.
Children’s Poetry Now Magazine

“Truly awful, he stole fourteen minutes of my life reading his durge. I will never get that time back”
Roger McGough

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14 thoughts on “Critics Page

  1. Your poetry is good but your humour is a riot. Your opening page with “quotes” from your mom had me snort/giggling (is that snorkling?). You are a brilliant humourist. I’ve been exploring your site for the funny bits. Please, please continue. Good humour is hard to find.
    Thanks, D.

    • Once again thanks, it is good to know I make someone else smile now and again and in turn that makes me smile. Thanks for reading and your comments. My mum is responsible for my humour, she taught me everything I know. Thanks again, Dave.

  2. I don’t remember what I clicked. I don’t like peotry. I don’t like bacon inside or out. I don’t share your taste. In anything. A reprehensible amount of my precious, precious time has passed in here. Your words and scratchings have attached themselves with tiny hooks to my ribs and damnit I’m feeling a… 🙂

      • Gosh, do you know I hadn’t? And yet now that I do I see such possibilities: stylish extra leg-inches (after some delicate shaping with sandpaper), that vital extra half a degree of smouldering heat in my cupboard when geese fly into the power cables again and everything frizzles then goes post-apocalyptic for two days, food for the chickens (eggs laid ready cartonned), a reservoir on the burn for washing my… Oh, now you’re going to tell me they’re ‘ver-choo-ull’?

      • No, not at all. They are bound in albatross feathers and written with the blood of a thousand Elvis Presley impersonators. I need to shift them quickly as the feathers are starting to smell. Make me an offer and I’ll ship them straight away. Not interested, how about the last nasal hair extracted from Queen Victoria? What about the entire collection of Margaret Thatcher’s ear wax (slightly used) or as a real deal sweetener I can throw in my rare and unanswered copy of Oscar Wilde’s letter he wrote to The Radio Times in 1956 complaining about why he had been dead for so long. All deals are cash only, limited time only.

  3. Ooh… I’m enlathered with avarice. But what?! No finance plan? This is so unexpected; all I have on me is this novelty dollar bill with an amusing picture of er hmm there seem to be too many hands involved anyway. But it’s yours if you throw in Jimi Hendrix’s early toenail clipping (with flaking black varnish)?

    • I too am encrusted with contra-fibularities as to your enticing offer. I may be prepared to trade my One Dollar bill with a misprinted image of Thora Hird in place of George Washington or in fact my One Dollar bill with a picture of the long lost and lamented pop group “Dollar” in holographic form performing their hit top pop chart topper “Who were you with in the moonlight”. Im afraid the Jimi Hendrix toenail clipping is not for sale but I have a substantial amount of Cilla Blacks’ plaque scrapings that I’m trying to find a good home for.

      • Is it the one showing Thora’s stockings? Naw, man, yer huvin’ me oan; I know for a fact they’re in the Clevelys Museum. No J.H.t.c.? Instead you offer me third-rate representatives of the idiot lantern? Why, why are my undercrackers strewn with borax from the devil’s own medicine cabinet??

      • The stockings in the museum are fake! I have the real ones from her travelling “Octopuss Strangling Roadshow” (circa 1965) when she was on tour with Whitesnake. Stop going on about the JHTC’s as well I’ve made up my mind and though tempted by your counter offer no borax strewn undercrackers will dissuade me from my original listing. I do have in my possession the original gap from between Jimmy Tarbucks’ teeth (c 1969) and the original pencil draft of “Bite me, bite me, tie me up and whip me you white devil” from Jimmy Osmonds’ first Solo Christmas album. I also have some incriminating photos of the Krankies which are laminated for the more discerning buyer of antiquities?

  4. Now you’re talking: putting aside the risky juxtaposition of octopus-strangling for that particular band leader, I would be up for Jon Lord’s ponytail (brown variant only). Just even a swatch at it? I concede that you have a much more extensive teeth-themed gallery than my first imperious glance admitted. I might go so far as to say ‘impressive’, but the drool off my fangs makes it sound revolting. However, I can’t get past the JHTC. This could be a deal-breaker. Oh, and you can put Jeanette Krankie away; I’m not a fool.

    • Look, I have a contact in Japan who could get you half of pint of Richie Blackmores’ post gig sweat (c 1987) but Im afraid Mr Lord has a restraining order out on me since our last “episode”. Now back to JHTC’s, I am prepared to offer 1 photograph of said nail clippings plus the scissors used to cut them and the rest of the vacuum cleaner bag contents, that’s really the best I can Im afraid. Anyway who said anything about a photo of Jeanette Krankie, they were a double act you know.

  5. Ruinous hawker. And yet if you’d even breathed of Norman Collier’s dandruff I’d’ve gnawed your typing arm off. Still, despite my early assertion, you’ve scored two. I’m aquiver with fascination. Unfortunately I must now go off to unharness the chickens. This has been, frankly, a pleasure.

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