A look back on the 'BARKIN! tour, plus a new poem in dialect.
My Wales-wide tour of 'Barkin!' ends at the same time as the footie season.
A cause for both sadness and joy.
Sadness because now I'll have to wait till I take the book to Outer Space and goodness knows what the Martians will make of it. Maybe I'll tell them it's 'Merthyr dalek', as in one of Phil Knight's funniest poems.
Joy because there have been many high points and I'd like to thank all those who attended and especially those who bought the book (all three of you.....LOL*).
The beginning and end of the mini-tour were particularly wonderful occasions.
I thoroughly enjoyed the first launch at The Imp on home ground and even my friend Bernard Harrington is writing in the vernacular now (though he describes it as 'taking the piss out of Mike').
The last reading was also an absolute pleasure, at the Hen 'n' Chicks pub in Abergavenny.
This regular Open Mic. has been running for over 20 years, organised by Ric Hool and the Collective, and it was just like ol' times to share the bill with Ifor Thomas, who even did a cling-film classic.
To read at Aber Arts Centre bookshop was special, there among all those memories of superb gigs in the Great Hall, from Bowie to Genesis and the late, great Kevin Coyne.
Simon at Aber, Jo at the Dylan Thomas Centre, Matt at Lampeter and Marc in Wrecsam were all the best of hosts, even if I never got to sup that real ale promised at Saith Seren ( though Wrexham Lager was a good substitute).
So Merthyrtalk does travel beyond Cefn Coed in the north and Treharris in the south, even if they no longer have Fish Foot Clinics in Wrecsam (' so last year!' they insisted).
I'm thinking of getting it translated into Klingon ( John Redwood could do the job), but that's a future project.
For now, I'm amazed I'm still writing in dialect. After all, Gove has decreed that it's not 'proper English' and Leighton Andrews is like a pink-tied version of that obnoxious Education Minister.
Like writing haiku directly onto my mobile and tweeting them after, I just can't stop latching onto local tales.
For instance, the well-known youth worker who rescued swimmers from a shark in Australia , only to be spotted on telly by his employers (he was supposed to be off on sick). He returned home only to be immediately dismissed - 'There's no call for shark-wrestlers in Merthyr!' was his legendary quip.
Like Bernard Harrington, I also responded to the equally bizarre headline 'Thieves Steal Bridge!' Though, unfortunately, the reality wasn't quite as spectacular as it sounds.
I hope there will be more such strange tales in future and, in case I don't get accepted onto the Poetry in Space programme, I might just take 'Barkin!' to the States instead.
* This is the first and last time I'll ever use 'LOL'.
SHEEPNAPPIN
I woz doin an Apprentice,
Dragon in-a field not Den.
Bein one o them onterpreners,
cuttin out a middle man.
It woz Fair Trade mun,
got fuckall like-a tea-growers.
So I nabbed myself a lamb,
not as easy as it seems.
I adto rugby tackle im,
ee kicked out, strugglin.
Thought them ewes woz 'bout
t gang up on me even.
Bound is legs with tape......
a case o sheepnappin!
Phoned my butty Welly f advice,
'Where's-a bes place f lamb?'
'Ow about Nandos but?'
So tha's where I took im;
round the back o the restaurant.
They call-a cops an I get done.
Got a plan t train an eron,
get im t catch me some salmon.
Reckon I'll get a grant f'r it
when I get outa prison?
My Wales-wide tour of 'Barkin!' ends at the same time as the footie season.
A cause for both sadness and joy.
Sadness because now I'll have to wait till I take the book to Outer Space and goodness knows what the Martians will make of it. Maybe I'll tell them it's 'Merthyr dalek', as in one of Phil Knight's funniest poems.
Joy because there have been many high points and I'd like to thank all those who attended and especially those who bought the book (all three of you.....LOL*).
The beginning and end of the mini-tour were particularly wonderful occasions.
I thoroughly enjoyed the first launch at The Imp on home ground and even my friend Bernard Harrington is writing in the vernacular now (though he describes it as 'taking the piss out of Mike').
The last reading was also an absolute pleasure, at the Hen 'n' Chicks pub in Abergavenny.
This regular Open Mic. has been running for over 20 years, organised by Ric Hool and the Collective, and it was just like ol' times to share the bill with Ifor Thomas, who even did a cling-film classic.
To read at Aber Arts Centre bookshop was special, there among all those memories of superb gigs in the Great Hall, from Bowie to Genesis and the late, great Kevin Coyne.
Simon at Aber, Jo at the Dylan Thomas Centre, Matt at Lampeter and Marc in Wrecsam were all the best of hosts, even if I never got to sup that real ale promised at Saith Seren ( though Wrexham Lager was a good substitute).
So Merthyrtalk does travel beyond Cefn Coed in the north and Treharris in the south, even if they no longer have Fish Foot Clinics in Wrecsam (' so last year!' they insisted).
I'm thinking of getting it translated into Klingon ( John Redwood could do the job), but that's a future project.
For now, I'm amazed I'm still writing in dialect. After all, Gove has decreed that it's not 'proper English' and Leighton Andrews is like a pink-tied version of that obnoxious Education Minister.
Like writing haiku directly onto my mobile and tweeting them after, I just can't stop latching onto local tales.
For instance, the well-known youth worker who rescued swimmers from a shark in Australia , only to be spotted on telly by his employers (he was supposed to be off on sick). He returned home only to be immediately dismissed - 'There's no call for shark-wrestlers in Merthyr!' was his legendary quip.
Like Bernard Harrington, I also responded to the equally bizarre headline 'Thieves Steal Bridge!' Though, unfortunately, the reality wasn't quite as spectacular as it sounds.
I hope there will be more such strange tales in future and, in case I don't get accepted onto the Poetry in Space programme, I might just take 'Barkin!' to the States instead.
* This is the first and last time I'll ever use 'LOL'.
SHEEPNAPPIN
I woz doin an Apprentice,
Dragon in-a field not Den.
Bein one o them onterpreners,
cuttin out a middle man.
It woz Fair Trade mun,
got fuckall like-a tea-growers.
So I nabbed myself a lamb,
not as easy as it seems.
I adto rugby tackle im,
ee kicked out, strugglin.
Thought them ewes woz 'bout
t gang up on me even.
Bound is legs with tape......
a case o sheepnappin!
Phoned my butty Welly f advice,
'Where's-a bes place f lamb?'
'Ow about Nandos but?'
So tha's where I took im;
round the back o the restaurant.
They call-a cops an I get done.
Got a plan t train an eron,
get im t catch me some salmon.
Reckon I'll get a grant f'r it
when I get outa prison?
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