This week’s theme is Poetic Audio Description, which is interpreted to varying levels of literality by our hosts.

Do the pieces reveal the inner workings and dark opinions of their writers? Will Charlie return to form after his devastating Lame Duck in ep. 14? And most importantly, will Matt give Charlie the satisfaction he craves, and give up his well won cup?

There’s (mainly) one way to find out.


BEN

What Are You Doing

It is night, but an orange light is cast by a string of bare outdoor bulbs, many of which are broken. At a bench in a beer garden after hours, sits a man in his late 20s, straddling the seat and looking at the littered floor. Though he makes no effort to leave, his posture suggests that he knows he should. He sips beer from a tulip glass and smokes a found filtered cigarette. Exhaling deeply he stubs it out and pulls an Apple laptop from his backpack, swinging his legs around in a gesture of resolve. He begins to type. The man counts the bulbs, assesses the discarded cigarette ends and pizza boxes, sips his drink, and continues typing. He finishes his drink and leaves the garden to fetch another. And then another when the second runs dry. He stops typing and leans back squinting at the screen. In one move he closes the computer and swivels again to mount the ashen wood. He finishes his drink. He fetches another.


MATT

What Are You Doing

There’s a warm prick in the air.

A kitkat wrapper tumbles past,
seemingly through sheer boredom

It’s not a bustling high street, by any means
10.45am
Why aren’t these people in work?
Most of them are elderly
Struggling with their shopping
As I look on.
Is 'blue rinse' still a thing?
I daren’t interrupt the stagger of
This old man in the oversized suit
Which once fit when he was fatter
Else he might keel over from swivelling.
Plus he probably doesn’t know.
I’d be better off asking
This well-permed woman
With a tight off-white bob
With empty bags.


CHARLIE

What Are You Doing

There's a spoken word tent
And a rusty LDV minibus with the rear windows covered by taupalin
Mattress in the back, MOT and road tax missing presumed expired

I see bongos. Dormant but ominous at the open back of a canvas tent
Dreadlocks everywhere, some matted. News that the hosepipe ban has been lifted is yet to reach this once-pleasant park

Are these people happy? If anything they look too happy
All on giff gaff, with no visible means of support
I am trying to understand

This week’s theme is ‘Travel Diary’. If that sounds confusing, your hosts agree. But never one to shirk a challenge, they get down and dirty in the word maze with 3 very different interpretations. Who will arise victorious? You’ll never guess!



MATT

Tuesday 12th June

Up at 9am, yoghurt for breakfast. Set off around 10.30am:

Wangmouth! Very fine beach, terrible looking pubs, and shops. Horse House Hotel turned out only served food to its patrons. Boo. Found a bakery, who produced a couple of crab sandwiches, grabbed local cider and Bad co. cans and headed to find a spot. Very few people around, mostly dog walkers and a few munty families with toddlers. After a tasty lunch, headed to the park.

Swings at the business end. There was a small boy, must have been 4 or 5 with no-one to push him. Duly obliged, gently, provoking a fit of giggles. In between bursts of gravity’s lyric, I was being nagged by a slight uneasiness. Where was the parent and/or guardian, and is what I’m doing OK, as an adult man? My mind struggled to escape the hysterical labyrinth, which it wouldn’t have had the opportunity to get lost in had the boy and I been of a similar age.

The uneasy feeling magnified, when a man made mostly of scalp jogged over and asked me, ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING’ and pulled (what I hoped was) his son away.

Despite my annoyance at the loud exclamation of something suspicious, I refrained from offering an antagonising quip. Such as ‘paedophiling’. That certainly wouldn’t have helped. Would it have been better for everyone if I’d not pushed the boy at all?

Came back and made a light supper of squid rings, chilli bread, salad and Bombay mix. Stayed up listening to Takes a Worried Man and singing it loudly until the sky said to stop, around 11.30pm.



CHARLIE

I knew I would love this job.

I remember the Moscow lecture halls and books. Learning with frustrated impatience my profession: engineering.

But my mind was 2000 kms from Moscow. 2602 from home

In a hive of muddy trails, ravenous rivers, and punishing cold

Where I can be tested, where I can be a man.

Which is where I find myself today, with a small group of other graduates

Helping in the business of transforming our endless forests into Chinese furniture


I’m not like the others. There is a ZiL with six long tonnes of logs sunk in the deep river

I go with Peter, one of the drivers. He lives only for drinking

I live only for working.


Our truck sinks too, until the pressure of the water smashes Peter’s window.

I feel the cold. She said I was cold when she ended it, just before I left.



BEN

Maize


Further from now

Than from when we were born

We spent a day in the dusty corn

Charged with lust

And a long to play

We followed paths trying to find

Our way to the middle

We found it

The theme this week is Country! Given that two of our hosts play and write in a Country Rock band, they should knock it out the park. Or the country park, if you will.

This week’s pieces:

CHARLIE

Cloggo

It was 1889

They built this dirty maze of mine

I keep things moving right below your feet

Where the sun don't shine

Is where I spend my time

I know it better than I know the street

All week

I'm knee-deep

(But My girl is) so sweet

When I leave it behind

Til one day I saw that

She was on her back

With the guy the keeps the drains in town intact

Now when you're feeling fine

In 2099

You won't know what's right below your feet

It's my baby

And the drain man maybe

The other sewer rats have had a treat

BEN

Clogged

When you asked, in your gentle tone

To use the most private part of my home

I was torn to tell the tawdry truth

That room belies my ample youth

I would not wait on this stalemate

My body’s a temple I desecrate

Now the pipes are packed, the flow is low

And I don’t know when I’ll next go

To save us both the grievance

I’d find another convenience

Clogged

I got clogged

Now I cannot find my way through the fog

Clogged

I got clogged

Now my love is like a broken bog

MATT

Got Clogged

When you left me

I was torn in two

Between

Two halves of broken heartache

Like this I’ve never seen

Before I can

make it to my feet

I’ve hung my head and cried.

But I’m a rock.

And I gotta keep rolling on.

Cos if I don’t

I know I won’t be the man

That I want to be

I’ll be stuck in a rut

I’ll be too cut up to see

What else is out there

And I ain’t standing

No, I ain’t standing

I ain’t standing for that.

You’ve taken

12 of my years

from me

But None of that crossed your mind

when it came

to your cheating heart

When you sat me down

In this old chair

To tell me you no longer cared...

I’ll be a rock

I gotta keep rolling on.

The theme this week is rap, and our hosts tackle it like any white middle class english men would: with embarrassing enthusiasm and beats stolen from Dre.

This week’s pieces:

CHARLIE

Miss Bliss and Mister Blister
She’s sunshine’s brighter sister, with the
Gist of her rays and her ways
And her warm lazy gaze but not seeing
Lookin’ but not being alive to the facts
That where she’s warm, he lacks
Any form of human quality at all
But just a short lesson
from this rapping impression
This guy keeps me guessing’
but he keeps on impressin’ her


BEN

Bicycle Face

I rode into the wind
and I got disfigured
Found no kinda gun
Could get me triggered
Chose harder higher gears
to push through the years
Working uphill
for fear of going down
I Tried to break
And I broke
Down

Each passing place
I passed the same
Ticking off time
And tasks the same
Making me a machine
My bike, my brain
Got clogged with clay
Saw the next place
Refused to pass
Left me laying
On the cold damp grass

These working days
And our working ways
Put every play in the past
We are burning our way
During our stay
In order to travel through fast


MATT

Draggin’

I don’t take time to get to speed
Accelerating,
Never need
More than what I’ve got —
I’m never sweating any beads
L-A-S-S
I’m here to burn the finish line
Smoking all these suckers
In my mirrors they’re behind me.

Taking the lead,
Taking the top team
To the limit and winning,
Never stopping or giving
Anything away
This has always been my day
For you this is do or die
For me this is playtime

Hold the red light
I don’t want you disqualified
I’m here to see your face
On the video rewind
V-E-G-A, yeah that’s me
Taking it above and beyond
The whole scene.

After weeks of solidly sensible stanza, will our hosts rise to the bait and write a silly one? The answer is: No. No. Yes. To find out what that means, you’ll just have to listen.


BEN

The Best Deal

I got the Best Deal
And three TVs in my room
I like to use the the phone
But no one seems to be home

I got the Best Deal but
Doing nothing I’d have more
These white trash are just like me
But they’re poor

I got the Best Deal
But that bum has more than me
8 billion dollars more
And he sleeps there for free

I got the Best Deal but
They won’t let me lock the door
I leave things as I want them
But they clean them off the floor

My wife has her own room
So I can be alone
With Mcdonalds for dinner
In my empty white home


MATT

Big Money

You’re always unbearable when I’m not in the mood
And vice versa
And in fact, of course — everything is,
I’m being idiotic.
Moods are stupid.

A rapid list of what’s wrong
what’s not happening
All coinciding at the same instance:
right now.

"Just get over it," I think
“Have a bath, and get over it”
I help with the main thing,
Then I say “Have a bath”
And walk away, downstairs
Back to my book.

As I begin to read,
My mind is distracted
That in fifty years I hope I’ll get to say:
"Let me be devoted, a little while longer
Yours is the only love
I've ever truly wanted”

I stop.
Because I’ll never know when it’ll all end
I should go and say that to you now.


CHARLIE

Big Money

I got a big pot o’ honey
They call me big money
I’m a storage hunter
With all them other munters
But no one knows the real me
They just go off a what they see
Big money, big funny, big dummy

Got a pot full of fam, pot full of friends
They’ll be there till the endz
My pots full of life, pots full of strife
Pots full of love from above and beyond
The millis don’t make me nor will they take me
Big money just ain’t me


And given that Matt requested Trump translation of Ben’s piece, here’s the the first line in Trump speak:

This is a very good looking group of people here. Could I just go around so I know who the hell I'm talking to... I got the best deal. My hands can hit a golf ball 285 yards.

(Courtesy of http://www.donaldtrumptranslator.com/)

This week’s theme is an invitation to the nasty ball, but how will our hosts RSVP? Will Matt and Ben cast off their nice guy shackles? Will Charlie pull a muscle trying to get there early? Is he, in fact, already there? Listen in to find out.

This week also featured the second piece in Ian’s Listener Residency.


MATT

Friends, I cannot stand —
This tiresome twist
Drinking to oblivion, I’ve done before
But on your birthday
Is quite remiss of me.

Was I charming?
I distinctively recall boorishly announcing the of arrival my favourite waitress
And blaming the cigarette
For the vomit.

Please, Give me time —
I’ll choose which path to take
One of drunken bastardness
Or tedious sobriety.


CHARLIE

I'm told that I'm a free man
But oppression always says that
Years ago, I would have been fused to the land
Giving up everything I grew
That may be in the past
But today, I have to do a podcast.


BEN

Master Paul Charles Peyton Higgitt
Dreamt of a status beyond his limit
He wanted his last name to last much longer
He thought both barrels would make him stronger
But despite a future in learning and law
He filed the papers with one fatal flaw

Like a child on christmas
He rushed to the post
Opened his present
While toasting his toast
And discovered that much to his middle class shame
He’d gone double-barrelled
And kept both middle names

Master Paul Charles Peyton Peyton-Higgitt
Dreamt of a status that he couldn’t mimic
A costly education cost him dearly
He could not stand his family to live so nearly
He went to the big apple to make big money
Where he hoped his big name would not seem so funny


IAN

The Coat

It hangs,
flowing vessels of muscle,
and the touch is soft
like the skin I connect with it.

The smell it releases
brings back concoctions
of deadly potions
that used to keep me lingering.

The smell turns to taste
and sits in the back of my mouth,
smoothing over buds,
bringing a familiar flavour.

As the vessels sway,
the gentle sound of fabric on fabric,
pulls back memories of sleeves that wisp
in the wind, like searching fingertips.

The coat looks old and battered
like the tree we would always see.
Watching as things blossomed,
watching as winter came.

We’ve heard that it’s hard to rock a rhyme that’s right on time. In fact, it’s tricky. So how will our hosts do as they face their first week of compulsory rhyme? There’s only two ways to find out, either you listen to this show or you ask a friend to do it for you. The former seems easier.

This week also featured a piece from listener Ian. Thank you Ian.

To read the piece in full, visit the blog on verygood.org.uk

Our hosts face their greatest challenge to date, writing a sincere piece on the theme of canine extra shagging. Never one to shirk a challenge, they grit their teeth, rise to the challenge, and other euphemisms. This week also features a piece by listener David Grumball.

To submit your pieces, email [email protected]

To read the pieces in full, visit the blog on verygood.org.uk

In an episode that’s inspired by the word ‘Wildlife’ but very largely about other things, our hosts present three very rapidly written pieces. Ben’s is largely to annoy Charlie. Charlie’s is about a dog, but not about a dog. Matt’s sounds like Samuel Beckett, who he’s never heard of.

To read the pieces in full, visit the blog on verygood.org.uk

This week our hosts address a variety of occupiers, from the metaphorical to the metaphorical. Plus our first listener submission, some righteous smack talk about Will Smith, and Charlie is a superb dick about Matt’s piece.

Apologies for the sound quality, Matt & Charlie are in Norway, but we didn’t want to miss a week.

To read the pieces in full, visit the blog on verygood.org.uk