Stand by for a quick burst on the BBC banjo as I bring you news of Wireless 4’s latest contribution to culture – a man of such stature that chief swot Melvyn Bragg must be shitting himself to acknowledge he didn’t make the discovery.
I refer, of course, to a man who makes T.S. Elliott sound like Pam Ayres – the great George:
George is a person of colot, and he seems to have cornered the market. Forget the old fart from Barnsley who used to be Wireless 4s pet poet. You can certainly forget John Betchman with his Joan Hunter Dunn (“how glad I am, sad I am that you won”). No it’s George for the Portland Place intellectuals these days, a man with that drippy effnik innit voice, who drears on, oblivious to sense or scansion in that monotonous disinterested, but hey man, how fucking clever I am innit, voice.
If this cunt is a poet, then Diane Abbott is a towering intellectual. Why the dim bastard can’t see he is being patronised, I can’t iagine, but I suppose it helps pay for the naughty African Woodbines (allegedly).
Nominated by: W.C.Boggs
(Here’s an old nom from 2019 about him, and nominated by Mr Boggs: Day Admin George Turns Down MBE)
Words and prose
Be his thing
From his fucking tyre swing
Black as coal he may be
This wordsmith token dark key
The message so important
So crucial it be
To blame da big bad wolf honky
Stub his toe or his dog goes lame
Da big bad honky
He’s to blame
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Fuck right off you total wanker
Your poetry? Is like a canker
You try real hard to be cool
But in fact you are a tool
You think wow I’m good
Pull up me hood
Cos the shite you spout ain’t no good.
Or fuck of you cretinous cunt it’s whitey that dragged you from the hood!
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Is he the cunt behind Vossi Bop?
Oh that was Stormzy/ I forgot.
Forgive me bruvvas/ this wy-boy sounds stuffy.
‘Though i bet he’s better/ than Carol Ann Duffy.
*Drop mic*
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