The Postman

Here comes the postman
Walking down the lane
What wonders he carries in his sack
Multicoloured envelopes
Brown and even plain

Giros and Postal orders
Parcels and bills
Repeat prescriptions for next door
So they can get their pills

Letters from the bank
Letters from afar
Subscriptions to magazines
Offers for a car

Bulging with all that weight
There must be something for me
That I can sit and open
And read with a cup of tea

He’s drawing ever closer
With parcels for next door
It won’t be long until I hear
Some letters on the floor

But wait! Please stop
There’s some mistake
You’ve missed my door
You postal snake

You’ve missed me out
Where’s my mail?
I scream and shout
Till I go pale

Still there’s always tomorrow.

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Once, long ago, I wrote frequently on Livejournal. I then moved to Blogspot, where I discovered that blogging requires an audience. So I moved back to LJ. Then over to Dreamwidth, back to LJ, up the road of self hosting with Muckybadger before giving up entirely and moving over to Wordpress. It was at that moment I decided I would spread my compostual nonsense simultaneously across the blogosphere like some rancid margarine. And so here I am. I am a badger. But then I'm not really a badger. I am a human. With badger like tendencies. I am a writer, a film producer and a social commentator. I am available for Breakfast TV shows, documentaries and chats in the pub with journalists where I am more than qualified enough to talk confidently about absolute shite and bollocks.