Poetry Corner

In what was a great day for the people of Essex, Evil Joe recently returned to his family estate. The celebrations in the South Eastern county are reported to have lasted for several days and will surely become for the area a yearly tradition of drinking and being merry on a par with Christmas, New Year and the opening of a new branch of Liquid, all rolled into one.

On the opposite side dissent and aggravation in the Midlands on hearing the news can only be compared to the Chicago Race Riots, the Iranian Revolution and the Boston Tea Party combined. Times a million. But despite trying everything short of closing the county borders the people of Leicester have been forced to take Evil Joe back. But as it is only for twelve months, the rest of the UK is not celebrating just yet. It's a situation a lot like giving a condemned man a stay of execution. They're very glad, but know sooner or later the concierge will be asking what they want as a starter for their last meal.

It would appear that Evil Joe managed to develop some culture in the South.* Upon his return to the grim North he has shown himself to be a veritable Renaissance Man, dabbling in poetry and philosophising on the nature of life (quickly giving when he realised he doesn't have a life).

*Sadly, this was more than just a metaphorical statement. Medical practitioners found that a particularly nasty bacteria had grown on his brain, causing him to believe that he was a genius of prose. Surgeons managed to remove all the nasty culture but Doctors believe Evil Joe will never regain the ability to realise his own ineptitude. We all weep.

Evil Joe was reluctant to release his cack-handed attempts at poetry. However, he was convinced by his great friend and mentor Sleazy Tiger, a real Renaissance Man. ST was actually based in Italy during the historic movement [though as long-time readers of this blog will know he was either drunk or sleeping off a monster hangover from 1550 onwards - Ed]. A little known fact is that our hero provided William Shakespeare with some of the capital needed to start The Globe theatre. However, once ST found out it was legitimate theatre and there would be no lewdness, he quickly lost interest. Alongside this Sleazy Tiger claims to have been the inspiration for the original version of William Blake's most famous verse (sadly later cut):

'Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

in the forests of the night

what immortal venereal disease

could frame thy genitals in such fearful rash?'

So when Evil Joe approached ST with his laughable attempts at the great medium he was happy to help promote the young jugglers efforts. Initially he recommended Evil Joe audition for 'Britain's Got Talent.' Not because he thought he could win, but to ensure humiliation on a national level in front of a Televised audition of several millions. When this failed (only because even Television producers have some moral scruples) humiliation in front of four people was deemed to be sufficient.

So without further ado ST presents Evil Joe's ode to his home town entitled 'Leicester is Crap'

'I recently returned to where I was born

An action that has made me highly forlorn

For fool of a boy, what a sap

I’d forgotten, Leicester is Crap

The natives are restless and share their rage

By assault with no fear of the cage

An aggression with no limiting cap

There’s blood in the stool, Leicester is Crap

If not engaged in acts of wanton brutality

They are keen to practice other elements of criminality

They’d steal a sleeping cat clean from your lap

For Civil Order, Leicester is Crap

Our culture is lacking you may have heard

One Museum’s best exhibit, a fake turd

And the Roman wall has a massive gap

Archaeologists agree, Leicester is Crap

Musically, Kasabian were here before they were signed

Five loud tone deaf twats weren’t hard to find

And Mark Morrison was jailed for being unable to rap

For holding a tune, Leicester is Crap

Eating out for the spice fan is a major coup

Shame they focus on an arse-wrenching Vindaloo

And we’re North enough to call a roll a bap

Gordon Ramsay would say, f**king Leicester is f**king Crap

And sportsmen by warned, the football team ‘get beat’

Whilst the Rugby team are known as massive cheats

The Cricket team’s bowlers get some fearful tap

The pundits concur, Leicester is Crap

The Architecture is concrete and unoriginality

All fine as it represents the greater banality

In the countryside beware the badger traps

Put a bag over its head, Leicester is Crap

So what else can I say of my home of years?

Other than that it regularly reduces me to tears?

If you approach find a way around on the map

Once and for all, Leicester. Is. Crap.'