GOING OFF ALARMING BY DANNY BAKER

Going Off Alarming

by Danny Baker

Weidenfeld & Nicolson

I've just finished this second volume of autobiography (continuing on from Going To Sea In A Sieve) by Danny Baker.  It has been another enjoyable bus tour through his "crackpot life", fizzing and crackling with experiences, yarns, japes and jibes told with energy and flamboyance in his own inimitable way.  We get glimpses of his family life and snapshots of his adventures in the media, mostly told with a keen and cheeky eye on a juicy punchline.

It is impossible, to me anyway, not to read it without hearing the razor-sharp, rat-a-tat-tat delivery that is his trademark....and the book is all the better for it.

We are reminded of his TV and radio shows, his hirings and firings, his nose-thumbing at authority and pompous prigs and his encounters with some famous people along the way. He has earned money and spent it with glee as a devoted family man, faithful friend, magnanimous host and lover of life.

Whether it is Pets Win Prizes, Win, Lose or Draw or the Daz doorstep challenge, the many radio shows or his writing credentials, Danny Baker is a master broadcaster and storyteller via the gob or the nib.

The book is full of great tales, (although, there is a rather overstretched chapter concerning the family dog). The chapter appraising his friend Paul Gascoigne is funny, honest and sincere, a fine piece of writing on its own.

But, the book should carry a WARNING. If you read it in public, you might suddenly laugh out loud, so be prepared for stares and harumphs, if you do.

ONLY DROOLS & CORSETS - VALENTINE - LOVE SONGS

From Only Drools & Corsets (Funny poems and silly stuff about love, Valentine's, etc)


TO LOOK INSIDE, PLEASE GO TO AMAZON FOR THE KINDLE VERSION......

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Today's sample:

LOVE SONGS

Ob la di, ob la da,

shang a lang,

a wop bop a loo bop a wop bam boom,

Scaramouche, Scaramouche,

be bop a lula,

de do do do, de da da da,

do wah diddy diddy,

coo ca choo,

sha la la la lee,

da do run run.

Can I be any clearer, my darling?

ONLY DROOLS & CORSETS - VALENTINE - MISS UNDERSTOOD

From Only Drools & Corsets (Funny poems and silly stuff about love, Valentine's, etc)


TO LOOK INSIDE, PLEASE GO TO AMAZON FOR THE KINDLE VERSION......

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MISS UNDERSTOOD

She raised her hands

to strangle and throttle:

"So, you think I have

a face like a bottle?"

Oh no, my love,

'twas one of my quips,

you've a face that launched

a thousand ships."

Alas, alack, she stormed out of the room

and I walked the proverbial plank,

our love boat had sprung an embarrassing leak

and I watched as it tragically sank.

GRANNY'S SNUFF AND GRANDA'S STAMMER

GRANNY RACHEL

Granny would put two dots

of snuff on her left-hand thumb,

hankie ready in her right hand,

and with two rapid sniffs,

the brown dust disappeared,

inhaled, a satisfying fix

followed by a hefty nose blow.

In the years after World War Two,

when a generation had had enough,

people were entitled to enjoyment 

and for Rachel, my Granny Millar, 

it was two occasional dots of snuff.

GRANDA TOMMY

We didn't call him Grandfather or even Grandad. He was Granda, my mother's father. He was a small, slight man but with the work ethic and grit of somebody twice his size. I remember he did the annual wallpapering and decorating in our house, always with a cheery demeanour, the occasional whistle and, every now and then, a song to himself. He had a stammer, quite severe at times, but that made him all the more endearing. He would give opinions and tell stories, sometimes struggling with certain words that simply refused to roll off the tongue. But, and I recall this very clearly, at a family do, he sang the song Nellie Dean and it was beautiful, even to a young kid like me. When he sang this simple little tune, the stammer was dead. Instead, he had the sweet voice of a tenor, unforced and pitch-perfect. "There's an old mill by the stream, Nellie Dean," he sang and, you know, he looked happy and content, a small man but a great Granda. 

DING DONG DUNG

From Only Drools & Corsets (Funny poems and silly stuff about love, Valentine's, etc)


TO LOOK INSIDE, PLEASE GO TO AMAZON......

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Only-Drools-Corsets-Joe-Cushnan-ebook/dp/B00HVDD0HO/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1390295517&sr=1-6&keywords=Joe+Cushnan

DING DONG DUNG

This farmer’s daughter was swayed and wooed

And said yes to a proposal of marriage.

Came the day of the wedding, she was all prepared

And off she was whisked in a carriage.

As the groom was waiting at the altar rail,

There came a whiff from the door,

As the bride approached, the smell got stronger,

An aroma you couldn’t ignore.

Said the groom to the bride: “Is that manure on your head?”,

Just as the bells were rung,

“Why yes,” said the farmer’s daughter,

 “I’ve just had my hair dung.”

SAID ELVIS TO THE BUTCHER - VALENTINE XXXX

In time for Valentine's Day, a little book of laughs and a few tender moments.

Kindle download link:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Only-Drools-Corsets-Joe-Cushnan-ebook/dp/B00HVDD0HO/ref=sr_1_17?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1389800383&sr=1-17&keywords=Joe+Cushnan

Soon in paperback here:

http://www.feedaread.com/

The Cover

The Blurb

"Funny poems and silly stuff about love, Valentine's Day & beyond. I was trying to think of a snappy title for this little book. Last year, I published a Christmas amusement called Only Yules & Verses, a slight take on a famous television series title. So, I went back to the pun trough once again. It’s a quirky collection in need of a quirky title. There aren’t many drools in here nor nether-garments, knickers, nor swear words nor anything blatantly offensive – unless the word fart causes distress. Most of this book tries to be funny. The last several pages are a little more thoughtful. I hope you enjoy the selection and share it with those you love." 

A Sample:

UH HU HU

Said Elvis to the butcher:

“I think I’ve had enough,

With these mail order steaks,

They’re always mighty tough.”

Said the butcher in reply:

“Just return to sender

And I’ll make a mental note

that Elvis loves meat tender.”

HEY YOU! BITTER ABOUT LITTER

Just back from a long walk this morning and, once again, I'm apoplectic about litter. So, I've no qualms about repeating this.......

BITTER ABOUT LITTER

A while ago, I wrote this poem about litter:

Hey you,

Yes you,

You who tossed away

The carrier bag,

The cigarette end,

The leaflet,

The receipt,

The free newspaper,

The can,

The bottle,

The sausage roll wrapper,

Pick up your litter, scruff,

Or I’ll flush you

down the crapper.

I'm just back from a walk in a beautiful country park and I took a note of these items, discarded along the way:

crisp packet,

Aero chocolate wrapper

plastic water bottle

Coca-Cola bottle

coffee cup

leaflet

another Coca-Cola bottle

tissues

Polo mint wrapper

water bottle label

another water bottle label

yet another water bottle label

handkerchief

train ticket

J-cloth

receipt

chewing gun wrapper

plastic carrier bag

plastic bread bag

cellophane salad bag

chocolate eclair sweet wrapper

I refer you to the last three lines of the poem above.

A POEM FOR BURNS NIGHT (25 JANUARY, 2015)

'Twas the month after Christmas and all through the house
,

Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.

The cookies I'd nibbled, the chocolate I'd taste, 

All the festive parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales and saw my new weight
,

I began to regret the amounts on my plate.

I'd remember the marvellous meals we’d prepared,

The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,

The wine and the turkey, the bread and the cheese


And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."

So - away with the last of the sour cream dip,


Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip,

Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
,

'Til all the additional ounces have vanished.

I won't have the shortbread - not even a lick,

I'll want only to chew on a celery stick.

I won't have hot pancakes, potato bread, or pie,

I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.

I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore - 


But isn't that what January is for?

Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.

I say cheers to you all on your New Year diet.

But before all the calorie counting begins,

There is one last good meal to eat for our sins.

To have you all here is a joy and delight

As we celebrate Burns and eat haggis tonight.

COMPARING

Here I sit in the UK,

Comparing you to a summer’s day –

You have a face like thunder,

You have highs and lows,

You fluctuate

Like the drifting snows.

You’re cold as ice,

You’re mercurial, chronic,

You’ve got rainbow eyes

From gins and tonic.

You’re dense as fog,

You’re an ice-cold blast,

Hard to predict

Like the weather forecast.

You’re a tidal wave,

You’re sleet and hail,

And every notch

On the Richter scale.

You’re foggy and frosty,

You’re murky and misty

And I can’t recall

When you last kissed me.

As I compare you,

Think I’ve got you pinned,

And by the way,

You have terrible wind.

In time for Valentine's Day, a little book of laughs and a few tender moments.

Kindle download link:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Only-Drools-Corsets-Joe-Cushnan-ebook/dp/B00HVDD0HO/ref=sr_1_17?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1389800383&sr=1-17&keywords=Joe+Cushnan

In paperback here:

http://www.feedaread.com/

The Cover

 




The Blurb

"Funny poems and silly stuff about love, Valentine's Day & beyond. I was trying to think of a snappy title for this little book. Last year, I published a Christmas amusement called Only Yules & Verses, a slight take on a famous television series title. So, I went back to the pun trough once again. It’s a quirky collection in need of a quirky title. There aren’t many drools in here nor nether-garments, knickers, nor swear words nor anything blatantly offensive – unless the word fart causes distress.
Most of this book tries to be funny. The last several pages are a little more thoughtful. I hope you enjoy the selection and share it with those you love." 

WINTER HAIKUS

this morning, the frost
has teeth-points to puncture skin
like a carnivore
*
in white-roofed suburbs,
the noise of getting going -
scraping of windscreens
*
white breath of a dog,
white breath of a dog walker,
different rhythms

FREE SPEECH (YEAH, RIGHT!)

I'd like to write ****
but I might offend someone
I'd like to write about *******
but I might offend someone
I'd like to say something about ****
but I might offend someone
I have an opinion on *********
but I might offend someone
I want to publish a poem about **********
but I might offend someone
I'd like to say I don't agree with ********
but I might offend someone
I want to think out loud about *******
but I might offend someone

I want to see how far free speech can r e a c h h h h h h h h h h h h h....

But as I have political correctness to thank,
and a yellow streak and a quiet life to live,
I'll have to draw a blank.

IF ONLY LIAM NEESON......

I was watching Taken 3, latest instalment,
in the comfort of our new picture house,
when the person behind started to annoy,
eating popcorn like a fidgety mouse.

Scritching and scratching, rustling and munching,
especially in the quietish bits,
as the film progressed my hackles were raised,
and this guy was getting on my tits.

I hadn't the guts to tell him to ssssshhhh
but had a thought during a rather loud gulp,
if only Liam Neeson would leap from the screen
to beat this old git to a pulp.

But Liam was up to his elbows and busy enough,
in the movie juggling action and stunt,
too busy to help me in my hour of need
to deal with this irritating.....(now I'm struggling to find the right rhyme to end this.......!)

QUILTS

She made quilts,
slower now that her fingers are old,
beautiful patterns woven with songs
sung softly as the needle and her hands
created unique details on scraps of fabric.

JANUARY KID

I was a January kid,
a Sunday morning baby,
a Capricorn -

practical and prudent,
ambitious and disciplined,
patient and careful,
humorous and reserved

but also pessimistic and fatalistic,
miserly and grudging.

That was the Zodiac plan,
a recipe of characteristics,
I am none of it,
I am all of it,
what I will do, am doing, did,
I can't change the fact
that I'm a January kid.

ONLY THREE DAYS COUNT

In this life
of ups
and downs,
of joy
and sorrow,
only three days count -
yesterday,
today
and tomorrow.

SHE NEVER GETS SICK OF ELVIS

Words to my 3-chord country song........

Chorus
She never gets sick of Elvis
but she sure gets sick of me,
she says she gets lonesome at night
that's something I can't see.
She says: "He's in my LP rack,
no, of course, he's not dead,
he's in my speakers singing,
performing in my head."

1
I met her in the 50s
when Elvis changed the world.
I was her only boy
and she was my only girl.
We danced a lot to Hound Dog
and our love was tender too
but now she taunts my wooden heart
and there's not much I can do.

Chorus

She never gets sick of Elvis

but she sure gets sick of me,

she says she gets lonesome at night

that's something I can't see.

She says: "He's in my LP rack,

no, of course, he's not dead,

he's in my speakers singing,

performing in my head."

2

Our walls are full of pictures

of Elvis through the years,

she loves to sing the songs

while I like drinking beers.

Elvis when I wake up,

sunrise to sundown,

he's her king of rock and roll

and I'm her jester clown.

Chorus

She never gets sick of Elvis

but she sure gets sick of me,

she says she gets lonesome at night

that's something I can't see.

She says: "He's in my LP rack,

no, of course, he's not dead,

he's in my speakers singing,

performing in my head."

3

Her mind gets all suspicious,

sometimes she so cruel,

she shouts: "It's now or never"

when I am such a fool.

She's a hard-headed woman,

prone to moody blue,

when she's all shook up and blaring,

surrender's all you do.

Chorus

She never gets sick of Elvis

but she sure gets sick of me,

she says she gets lonesome at night

that's something I can't see.

She says: "He's in my LP rack,

no, of course, he's not dead,

he's in my speakers singing,

performing in my head."