A Ket-hole Jester’s Interface

Cyberspite redundancy, a crackpipe fire diplomacy

A buggled brainstem’s wild guesses constitute reality

Scribbled schemes amid misgivings, clusterbombs of culture schisms

Beach mandala washed away, reminder of mortality

Beautiful impermanence, a precious rare humanity

All actions have consequences, cycles of experiences

Whose holy is the holy land? How gracious is the gun in hand?

A ket-hole jester’s interface incepts the Western fash command

Dungheads dumbworms duping rotten, Luigi smashed the trolley problem

But even spirits have their limits, curse the world and all that’s in it

Mirror image man to pig to meth-soaked crawling beastly cryptid

Heathen prayers to absent Gods to call down crashing cleansing floods

Hold me like a sleeping otter washed away by filthy water

The metal spiking weir gets closer, grab me tight as we go over

All we knew has flashed on by so let’s get ready for the dive

Into delusion; cloven hoofs present the apples of untruth.

Hemingway: Verbose Prick

 Free shoes: baby dead

A Man Without A Team: Officially the End

It is no more.

 The zombie club is finally, irrevocably, and officially dead.

No tears here. 

1876 will be known as Bangor City 1876 from next season on. There is also the imminent prospect of a new chapter.

It involves in part a kind of, uh, interesting linkup with a businessman who, huge respect to him, has worked wonders on the stadium recently.

The club remains, in all team related ways, fan owned.

Who knows what the future holds? 

I'm tempted to say that all this shit that has gone on has brought the important things back to the community.

We lose those and we lose our soul.

I can't say it won't ever happen again. Humans are unpredictable.

I just hope and trust we don't lose sight of the power we created when we really needed to. The way football in Bangor was wrested back from foul chancers.

The way we all found our club was within us all along. Most importantly, the way we learned how to work and use that unity to build better and stronger.

What happens on the pitch is only a part of it. In a sense, it's a minor part.

Still ruins my night if we lose of course.

Free DNA test

Results bear that

You are related to everyone else.

To be more exact 

Part of everything ever there is or was or will be.

All there up yr DNA.

Om om buggy buncha atoms

Badman sandman don't aks me.

Somehow In Breathy Credit

Oh

Everything is loud and mercantile 

A messy house of reptiles

Shedding careless

Stop

Underneath the sultry sighing sun awhile

The paradigm unfolds

Incessant 

Oh

Sit and feel the undulations 

We approach the early

Evening dauntless

Cause

We have conquered tribulations 

Scrambled by fear

We rose nonetheless 

So

Ask not why them not us, why now, cause

Logic has nothing

To do with it

Or

Reason or rationale force 

Book learning to something

Beyond that 

Oh

We call across the passion skies, hands up

To shout your

Names out

But

Sine waves and sawtooth lives cannot

Create continuation 

From the casket

And

Belief in anything is worse than life

With scar struck

Projects

The

Prospect of capital or kisses or god

With all his magic

Merits

Oh

The day is cooling now, and still 

We seem to be somehow

In breathy 

Credit

Oh

The joint end's orange glow 

Mirrors a sunset 

If you bless it

So

For all those we have lost we offer a scraggly toast

With voices wracked

And ragged

For

With life comes the cost of its damning aftermath's

Heavy toll and its 

Cold dagger

Oh

Memory unreliable

Moments quite conflatable

But this all happened 

And

That we could exist at all together is incredible

A time tapered

Revelation 

So

Amidst all the bigotry we scaled the hill of dignity

Unassuming 

After a fashion 

Oh

We had our time in the city. Unending nights of fantasy 

Hackled back to reality 

A crushing crash land

Oh 

Karma's call seductive brings a tissued veneer 

Through which we see 

There is no pattern

And

Decades destructive kill qings and kings, 

Whichsoever queers 

The vast illusion

So sing:

If, if we are still here,

If here to sit must we:

Then maybe, finally,

With

Tired time detained an cuffed,

A darkest blue for us:

Let there be love.

And love there was.

Fugly

Lost my pension pot investing in a memestock pump and dump

Fronted by the hawk tuah girl

Well if that ain't financial smarts I don't know what is

Put my family in the hands of a convicted rapist and multiple bankrupt

Who wants us to drink bleach

Well if that ain't democracy manifest I don't know what is

From the fat twats in the west to the crackpot obese east

The rats and worms frenetic for the fugly famebot feast

Well ain’t that just another delicious kickback in the teeth

I could have sold my soul six times over if I just knew where it was

These days it doesn’t track

Another despot’s orgy undetected by Starlink’s inevitable malfunction

I surround myself with meatheads six feet tall and eight feet wide

Staring behind dark glasses

Demanding that I have authority over the definition of maleness

From the no-marks in the north to the scumbags in the south

The very worst amongst us get their snouts first in the trough

And that is just the latest way to shove and smite and snub

Lost my mind when I was implicated in a swathe of DDOS attacks

Restructuring is never a good word

Who wants to work anyway when you’re already using foodbanks

I built my week on AI and now I’m facing nine charges of fraud and theft

Though it all seemed above board

There’s no way I would ever have done those things without such timely help

From the bubbling rage of incels to the suicides in the Apple sweatshops

The groundswell is of hate and pain, an inward-facing rot

Don’t look up from twisted toes whilst tears run rank and hot

From the fat twats in the west to the crackpot obese east

The rats and worms frenetic for the fugly famebot feast

Well ain’t that just another delicious kickback in the teeth

Chappy

Chappy got bit by a radioactive octopus

And now he's an octopunk

Four extra limbs made transformation obvious

And his head became a bulbous lump

Chappy started sniffing glue and drinking scrumpy scrumptious

Dyed his hair and stuck it up

Mohican and a jacket made of leather looking glorious

And ink sacs squirting out black gunk

 A bike chain and a safety pin like sneer, he felt so monstrous 

Slouching down and getting drunk

He started speaking cockney like a prototype Sid vicious

Looking for someone to thump

Cause chappy was an octopunk

Yeah chappy was an octopunk

He pogoed like a springy spider  oh so dick ridiculous

Cause he had eight limbs to jump up

He didn't like the hippies cause their dope made him feel nauseous

And they gave him the hump

At all the gigs he got the crowd in paroxysm gnarliness

Kicking out for DM crunch

When the chaos started that was when he felt most ominous

He smacked and cracked at any chump

Cause chappy

Aye chappy

Chappy was an octopunk

Yeah chappy was an octopunk 

He couldn't help himself and went on tour to places dubious

Across the world to find more punk

Punjabi and Pyongyang never met someone so luminous

Tentacles that really sucked

Then chappy went to China and was stared at by the tourists

Waiting at the wall side pub

Cause he was on the grill in bits and god the smell was glorious 

He'd been caught by a fishing junk

He was a tasty octopunk

They had him on a plate for lunch

Cause chappy

Yeah chappy

Chappy was an octopunk

Chappy was an octopunk