I’m a big, big fan of Chumplady, the fiendishly funny author of ‘Lose A Cheater Gain A Life’. Every now and again she applies her UBT (Universal Bullshit Translator) to an email or message sent from cheater to chump.
This recent UBT is, I think, is one of her funniest:
“How stand we now?-he told his tale To Douglas; and with some avail; ‘Twas therefore gloom’d his rugged brow.- Will Surrey dare to entertain, ‘Gainst Marmion, charge disproved and vain? Small risk of that, I trow. Yet Clare’s sharp questions must I shun; Must separate Constance from the Nun- O, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive! A Palmer too!-no wonder why I felt rebuked beneath his eye: I might have known there was but one, Whose look could quell Lord Marmion.’”
This is a little piece I wrote last week for Boxing News. I was very honoured to do so. Alan Minter was the first boxer I ever met. I was a 17-year-old wine waiter and he was drinking the wine. Our paths crossed a few times over the years. I liked him a lot. He was a very, very nice man.
Have no memory whatsoever of writing this. I did it five years ago apparently. Obviously wasn’t in the greatest of moods that day. I think it’s only the second poem I’ve ever written in my life. So I thought I’d re-blog it.
This is the world we live in
This is the world we live in: Where people live and people die, Where people fuck and people cry, Where people walk and drive and fly, And don’t know where or when or why, This is the world we live in.
This is the world we’re lost in: Where God is love and God is hate, Depending on which town or state, Or street where you originate, For that is where they seal your fate, And point you down the road you take, This is the world we’re lost in.
This is the place we hope in: Where bombs explode and all the while, You go to work and try to smile, And wonder why they want you dead, Perhaps it’s something that you said? More likely those who use your name, To do their deeds and play their game, Whichever case, it ends the same, It’s you who is the one to blame, This is place we hope in.
This is the place we love in: Where people starve to death in pain, And children die before they’re named, For want of but a fist of rice, That rains down on the bride, So nice… …to see that they are having fun, Lives just beginning, others’ done, This is the place we love in.
This is the land we dream in: Where those who have are given more, And those without are shown the door, Where rich stay rich, and poor stay poor, And live their lives below the law, And kill and rob and maim and whore, To raise themselves above the floor, And crane their necks towards the sky, But never know the reason why, This is the world we dream in.
This is the land of freedom: Where actions cost but talk is cheap, About a megabyte a week, Is all you need to squawk and Tweet, And with that you can wipe your feet, Of all the prayers you should be praying, The info you should be relaying, The demons that you should be slaying, (Only saying…) This is the land of freedom.
This is the world we live in: A land of plenty for the few, The rest of us must just make do, And try our best to make it through, This is the world we live in.
So sad to hear of the death of one or my heroes Alan Minter. I first met him in 1979 when I was a 17-year-old wine waiter. The last time I saw him was in 2018, when I wrote this article for Boing News.