Photo By Jools Thatcher

Photo By Jools Thatcher

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “Something In The Air “.

Good afternoon Jon and greetings, once again, from Coventry.

Unfortunately I’ve had a bit of a virus this week and regrettably haven’t been well enough to put pen to paper, for which I apologise profusely.

Fortunately though, completely by chance, I bumped into “Pig” Mills in the doctor’s surgery, where he was picking up some haemorrhoid cream.

“Pig”, who’s in the UK to attend the annual Pastie Convention in Cornwall, very kindly offered to pen this week’s offering and it only cost me four cream buns and a kilo of suet – quite a bargain.

So a big, and I mean big, thankyou to “Pig” Mills for saving my bacon.

To play this poem directly in your browser – just click the “play” button below:

Also have a listen to the songs on the New Album “Angel In Reverse

Something in the air

There’s something brewing. Feel it?
Something’s not quite right
Unpleasant, almost evil
It’s like a second sight

Not suggesting I’m a psychic
Just more sensitive, aware
It may sound like a cliché
But there’s something in the air

I always have this feeling
When your family’s round for tea
Loathing iced with pleasantries
I’m sure it isn’t me

I sensed the same foreboding
When you bought that strapless dress
You asked me if your arse looked big
I told you frankly “Yes”

You told me to be honest
Cross my heart and hope to die
What I hadn’t realised was
Being honest meant to lie

Copped a mouthful from your brother
A few unsavoury threats
I don’t know what his problem is
Perhaps he has tourettes

When your mother had a face lift
Took the stiches out too soon
Well she did look like a scrotum
Perhaps I should have said a prune

It was only playful banter
I wasn’t being rude
Your brother tried to clock me
What’s up with that dude?

I think your grandma fancies me
Asking me my thoughts
Do I think she’s hot in hot pants?
Do I prefer the lycra shorts?

I opted for the lycra
It helps contain the sag
But if she’s dressing to impress me
I said “Try a body bag”
Your brother went ballistic
Warned me I was dead
What’s got up his kilt?
Can’t be anything I said?

Your father’s talking real estate
Boring, but not surprising
Rambling on, as usual
How they’re thinking of downsizing

I told him it’s a great idea
I think about it often
I’d even help them move
Had he thought about a coffin?

Your brother tried to strangle me
I bloody nearly choked
Bang, out of the blue, it was
Completely unprovoked

Then your sister asked me
What I thought of her new skirt
If I love it, I’m in trouble
If I don’t, I end up hurt

I thought, “Be non-committal”
To avoid a family brawl
So I told her I preferred her
With nothing on at all

Polite and diplomatic
I couldn’t have been nicer
Your brother tried to carve me up
With a bloody pizza slicer

But forget your boring father
Or your sundried, botoxed, mother
Delicate sister, amorous gran
Or psychopathic brother

What I’m sensing is more putrid
Than your families veiled aggression
A presence so malevolent
It borders on possession

God, there’s something in the air alright
The vile scent is growing
The bloody sewer’s blocked again
The toilet’s overflowing

© Copyright 2013 Ian Bland

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