Well we got here didn’t we, seven days into a strange named year, back in the early 90’s when I was having fun drinking Mad Dog Strawberry flavoured piss which was also called 20/20 I didn’t think I would get out of those 90’s never mind into 2020, even though I still had 20/20 vision and I swear to you that all my jokes for this number have dried up.

I am still playing war with myself so nothing has changed there, I have ideas, I have material and I am determined that my art gets out, even if some people see the word fuck and give me a one star rating , I am not a poet writing about the beauty and the false lenses of this world, if the world is going to shit, I am going to write it as the world is going to shit, Australia’s south east coast is in flames and a cunt called Trump just pissed flammable liquid all over the cauldron that is the Middle East, while here in Italy everyone keeps voting for the other twat called Salvini, and no I am not mentioning the turd you voted for in the UK

Yes my language is raw but what I am writing is the truth, written in a way that everyone understands clearly, the language I write in is the same language I have spoken for the last 47 and a half years from the cold school yard, into the drafty factory floor to the cigarette filled backroom of Preston’s sleaziest pubs, where everyone said “if you don’t fucking like it , lump it”. Why should I changed the language? I don’t believe a Tory toff would be interested in what turners did (before Thatcher finally killed off Leyland Bus) in a dusty workshop in the North West of England in the 90’s so why should I translate the article into some Disney drivel? If you watch a horror film you know the rabbit is going to get slaughtered, if you don’t like it , return to your twisted fantasies of Bugs fucking Bunny.