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Fat Alice

Drop-in Centre

Survivor Guilt

Prime Ministerís Question Time

Lessons from Viet Nam



The Airborne Museum, Hartenstein, March 2023

Early Morning Walk

Mitherings

Communication ii

Sock Drawer Poets

Diplomatic Dancing

Old Bill And Me

Debits And Credits

Organic Farming

Whiskey The Cat

Fettling The Garden

Instantaneous

Those Washday Dreams

In Povertyís Hell

By Steam Train

Road Hog Blues

Interference

Yorkshire Red

This New New Year

Priory Woods 2022

Sovereignty

Tanks

Two Thousand And Twenty Two

Ginger Whinger

Documentary

Turkeys

Bullies

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Supper time


Oh the army looked after its own
It really must be said
Except of course the RSM didn't really
Tuck the squaddies up in bed
Three square meals a day
You could eat your fill
They did try to keep you fit
Just in case you had to kill
And they opened up the cook house
Every single night for toast and tea
I sometimes went if broke
After all everything was free
They had the largest toaster in the world
At least the largest one I had ever seen
As I was young and not well travelled
It very well just may not have been
Where you would cook your toast
Accompanied by the pop pop pop
Of those kamikaze cockroaches
That tried to run across its top
There were heaps and piles and scatters
Scorched and charred by the score
No matter how many failed
There were always plenty more
We'd sweep the toaster top
Brush them on the floor
But just seconds later
There'd be plenty more
We'd find them in the soup
We'd find them in the custard
Like an invading force
Permanently mustered
When man is gone
For what its worth
Maybe the cockroach will
Inherit this earth
Oh the army looked after its own
It really must be said
Except of course the RSM didn't really
Tuck the squaddies up in bed












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