Sunday 25th July 2010, Rhythms of the World Festival, Hitchin Priory Gardens, Hitchin, Hertfordshire.
What a splendid day, this years ROTW Sunday has to be the best ever, especially in and around the Arcade Eclectic stage, and here's the man who runs that stage, my good friend and fellow poet Chris Ripple.
A couple of years ago, ROTW moved from its old setting in and around the streets of Hitchin to its new home in the Priory.
What a splendid setting and what a splendid crowd.
OK, so I didn't stay at the Arcade Eclectic stage all day, there were some other acts to see, such as:-
The wonderful, Frog Stupid on the BBC Introducing Stage
The beautiful, haunting, Lika Sharps, on the Nettle-bed Stage
But I couldn't keep away from the Arcade Stage for long as there was so much good music and poetry to fill the afternoon & evening, such as:-
Numerous good bands and musical acts all over the festival, even a bit of Morris dancing!
But the Arcade Stage was the place to be, it was worth it just to see Marcus relaxing and taking a breather between filming (That's the biggest spliff I've ever seen!).
And of course, at 4.55, there was me!
And my lovely assistant!
Now the thing was, I was on directly before the wonderful, amazing, dirty, funny, wet yourself, Spandex Ballet and Leon (In the blue shirt) had been facebooking me all week to get me to swear lots during my set so as to warm the crowd up for Spandex, me swear, not f***ing likely, OK once or twice but I thought some of my poems might just do the trick (See below for set list and a couple of examples!)
As I said, Spandex Ballet were knicker wettingly funny, they always are but on this day they went several steps too far, bless them, they were brilliant.
Leon & Chris, Spandex Ballet (The other Chris is watching and taking notes for the various libel cases likely to arise!).
OK, so they had some big acts on the other stages to close the festival, but, the Arcade Eclectic had former Sex Pistol, Glenn Matlock, it was brilliant, sing along a Sex Pistols, Rich Kids, Faces, various rock and roll classics, Glenn certainly knows how to entertain a crowd.
So, when I was on, what did I do? Here follows my set list:-
Grant Meaby ROTW POETRY SET 2010
1. Wherda Newordz Comefrom?
2. I am the King (Of the Cyber Site)
3. Set the Controls for the Heart of the Psyche
4. The Ice Queen’s Lair
5. Sky clad
6. The Phantom Tent Crapper of Old Knebworth park
7. Sonic Assassin
9. Tree Incarnation
10. We Walk in Ancient Places
11. Cell o Phone Blues
12. Lycra Cycles
13. The Great Public Transport Conspiracy
14. The Phantom Log Layer of Abel Smith House
15. Walk with Me
16. Out There
© All poems herein and titles above, Copyright Grant Meaby 2010.
And of course, toilet humour (The Phantom) really seemed to hit the mark, so, with no further ado, here are a couple of examples to titilate and tantalise:-
THE PHANTOM TENT CRAPPER OF OLD KNEBWORTH PARK
The phantom tent crapper of old Knebworth Park
Crept into the campsite well after dark
The bands had all finished the disco had too
And the phantom tent crapper just needed the loo
But the queues for the toilets were too long and too slow
And the phantom tent crapper just had to let go
So creeping around in the dark in readiness he went
Looking for that perfect unoccupied tent
Then he found it standing there as quiet as can be
He slipped in to unload his poop and his wee
Up by the head end he left his ‘special’ pillow
What a surprise there’d be on the morrow
Then in abject horror as his drunkenness subsided
The contents of the tent and his eyes collided
He felt remorse and sorrow at what he had done
For this very tent, was of course his own one!
The Phantom ‘Log Layer’ of Abel Smith House
The Phantom ‘Log Layer’ of Abel Smith House
Crept into the toilets as quiet as a mouse
He looked round he sniffed round and found it all clear
No one would disturb him as his moment drew near
He breathed deeply and slowly and with muscles he pushed
And into the pan a great log it whooshed
With splashing and writhing at settled at last
And over the scene its dark shadow it cast
With its feet and body submerged at some depth
It was head and shoulders above all the rest
It appeared to be peeping over the top of the rim
And it filled the poor pan right up to the brim
The log layer panicked as log layer’s do
How could he be rid of this enormous poo?
He beat it, he clubbed it, he sliced it, he slashed
With the little plastic bog brush he prodded and mashed
Despite several flushes the log would not go
It sat there and grinned as if saying ‘Hello’
The log layer prayed in his moment of need
And he piled on the paper to cover his deed
One final flush so the Log Layer thought
Would do the trick but it all came to nought
The pan was now plugged by log and by tissue
A simple quick dump had turned into an issue
So out of the trap the Log Layer emerged
His doings now covered and somewhat submerged
He slipped back into the office his work to complete
Leaving behind his yet undiscovered treat
And the next poor sod to enter the trap
Finds it full of wet tissue and mashed up crap
We all know the culprit although not by name
The phantom Log Layer has struck again!
But I did perform some serious poetry and some with a but of an edge to make you think, I left them with this one:-
Ring a ring of ring roads
Build another motorway
We never have enough lanes
For the traffic of today
Bypass the villages
Bypass the town
We’ll build some giant super stores
While the local shops close down
What was once classed ‘Green Belt’
Is being built upon
A little here
A little there
Suddenly it’s gone
I have a recurrent nightmare
About this land in which I love
Whereupon a giant city
With London as its hub
Spreads out across the countryside
In one unbroken urban spread
The great south east metropolis
It fills me with such dread
So think about your villages
Think about your towns
Think about the trees and fields
In the country that surrounds
And be prepared to raise your voice
In protest if you care
Or forever sadly mourn the loss
Of the countryside........Out There.
CHeers all, until next time.