A tune for my godson Todd who's five years old it was inspired by listening to him talking about his modern dance class which involves quite a lot of acrobatics including parkouring from the kitchen table onto the floor then spinning round on his back hissing loudly like a fried egg or an angry snake.

They called her La Pucelle The maiden of steel

Joan of arc who saved France from the hundred years war with the English but as usual her own French nobels through tricks and treachery sold her back to the English after she'd won back France they charged her with cross dressing and heresy she was burned at the stake three times till her bones turned to dust but her legend never did rust. In 1909 at Notre Dame she was made saint by Pope Pius X and became a patron of freedom, France an feminism.

A short ditty written for the god Google children who now speak in fluent geek , the bible say's that the meek shall inherit the earth I think they may have meant to say the GEEK !!.

A song I wrote for a crazy young women who's beauty could cause Aphrodite to scream a red rage of jealously, its fairly obvious to see her maker man was completely OCD and once you're under her spell you just can't break free .

A short song I wrote after speaking to some old friends from way back they were all on the prozac or as we use to call it The Slow Smack due to them taking two weeks to work most of them are still on the smarties they feel fine all of the time.

A song I wrote for Nina in lock down with covid and the kids a soft swing .

A short song I wrote for a friend who now wants to be called THE BIG TECH JESUS . He stands six feet eight tall and states to everyone that he's THE NEW LORD OF LOVE .

Our fixation with fear is definitely here. We're living like mendicant monks. Our decadent café latte lifestyles are all defunct. This virus hangs about us like the prophecy of Macbeth, a new strain of the Black Death. This damnable COVID-19 has killed what was once a hedonistic dream. 'Project fear' is all we hear, bombarded constantly into our ears. We've become farmed fish, the human hen, all crushed together into a purgatory pen, pellet-fed by Auntie Bettie and Uncle Ben.

A short song I wrote whilst trapped in rush hour on the M25 its certainly a highway to hell and your brain boils in its crab faced shell at night it turns into a Cannon Ball Run a hundred and seventeen miles of Mad Max fun with motor cycles screaming past like something out of the movie Top Gun .

A little song about setting off on a world tour in the late seventies, it was nothing like today there were no mobile phones or multimedia just the odd phone box for calls . Your thumb and forefinger were used for hitchhiking thousands of miles around the globe taking years and years almost a decade to the point where many of us became wonderless but we did become quite skilled in the art of conversation due to spending so much time spieling with strangers , way back when you had the safety of being completely cut off where now the new wage travellers are so guarded due to the sapiens surveillance of God Google and the silicone starzi Siri .