One of the more rolly eyes moments at the Open Mic event yesterday was when this woman started making 'political statements' about Michael Gove.

And of course the sheep in the room clapped like seals, at this bit of dog whistling..

I have no particular feeling toward Michael Gove, he is doing a reasonable job in a department that has long since lost itself with regard consistent policy. However, I do find it ironic that so many leftists choose to target Gove, given his background.

But then one of the acts yesterday stood up and stated that Jesus was a gnostic atheist and then went into this schtick about... well not very much really. As a piece of Medieval Anabaptism it was fine, and no doubt if you were trapped Mainz and allowing your daughters to be semi-raped in the free love mania it would have gone rather well.

And then there was this woman who stood and asked to imagine that we a teenage black girl, in Little Rock in 1964... I believe she said 1964.... or perhaps she was referencing to something other than than the segregation episode in 1957. Anyway, there she was getting shriller and shriller as the fire of her political being grew indignant, at the injustice.

But hang on, why does black girl not have a name?

Why can't we imagine that we are Carlotta Walls LaNier, or Minnijean Brown-Trickey. or Gloria Ray Kalmark, or Thelma Mothershed-Wair, or Melba Pattillo Beals, or Elizabeth Eckford, - or indeed Ernest Green or Jefferson Thomas but we asked image being a black girl, so they don't count. Particularly Eckford, as it arguably the picture of he being harangued by 'a piece of white trash' - yes she did that phrase in her poem (perhaps I should complaint to the police about racist behaviour at a council funded event) - that gave the incident its notoriety around the word.

At which point, up steps another earnest female soul who is going to give her poetic tribute to Nelson Mandela.

There was something about Thatcher, those people who called Mandela a terrorist, and.... hang on a minute... he was a terrorist. What you on about woman..... no she's moved on now.... the hagiography in preparation for beautification, and no doubt inquisition for those who disagree, is in full flow - stuff about what his life teaches us about something-or-another, and this and that.

To not accept that terrorism is the central tenet of Mandela's life is rather miss the point. It is as vital to understand, as his later rejection of violence - well partial rejection - given the nature of his Pan African politics.

I suppose all of this was agit-prop stuff was in my head as a scribbled a few lines of free verse last night....

 they're the anti-political
political fringe
of the anti-political front
they're the anti-critical
critical falange
of the anti-critical....


yeah but carbon dioxide has increased
nine per cent
and the temperature has remained stable

the kafiyah gasps
the nuclear power nej tak medals
rattle like dying polar bears
the free trade unbleached sugar pours into
the free trade grown by women coffee
with free trade trampled by autistic kids soya milk

I sip my bog standard red label

we take a detour
around syria palestine banking
the exploitation of women
none of which makes much sense
but then I'm not political

and neither is she really


 I got an email today from a coral
wanting to know why I don't have a car
I replied it is none of your business
blooming nosy crustacean

but corals aren't the type to let things lie
three phone calls, two texts
and registered delivered letter
I received a cheque from his mates
on the barrier reef
so I can buy an SUV

but I'm not that sort of bloke
I sponsored a rhino instead
and spent the rest on wine and cigars
and lego for the kids

now the coral have hired a dolphin
to do me in
when it has fulfilled the contract
the coral took out
on Julia Gilard

 Cue random picture for the facebooks stain glass...

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