Ivor Cutler

Sentient cupboard

  • Its door is hyper cool

  • Its legs look just like tusks

  • It’s true if it’s a bool

  • It dances AND it busks


  • Bob’s idle atom cud


Rave on a Roundabout

  • I’m 19

  • I want to go to one of the infamous Blackburn raves

  • I persuade my friend Mike to drive his tiny Mini

  • We meet at the rendezvous point - hundreds of cars parked outside a pub on a country lane

  • Suddenly the signal - we’re off!

  • Car follows car follows car in a giant convoy.

  • But it’s going too fast

  • Mike’s tiny old Mini can’t keep up

  • We lose the car in front

  • Hundreds of cars are following us

  • But we don’t know where we’re going.

  • We reach a giant roundabout over a motorway

  • It’s three lanes wide, so we just join the roundabout and drive slowly round in circles

  • We’re waiting for somebody to arrive who knows where they’re going

  • They can lead us off like the pied piper

  • But nobody knows where they’re going!

  • Slowly the roundabout completely fills up with cars, all slowly driving in a giant circle

  • Windows are open, people are hanging out of windows, even sitting on car roofs

  • Music is blasting out, doobies are lit up

  • It’s a rave on a roundabout!

  • Finally somebody comes back from the rave, finds us, leads us to the field, or warehouse, or warehouse in a field, where the rave is happening

  • But the police have got there first

  • They turn us away

  • We go home

  • The end.

  • (I never did get to one of those Blackburn raves)

Room smells of cloves

Me in 9-yr-old’s room: “It smells of cloves in here.”

Son: “Yes.”

Me: “But why does it smell of cloves?”

Son: “Because there are cloves in here.”

Me: “Why are there cloves in here?”

Son: “They’re everywhere. I’m wearing them.”

Me: “Huh? Why are you wearing cloves?”

Me again: “Oh, hang on…”

The late night not-poetry

Subliminal mistresses eating plums with their mouths