Sunday Service

Night’s curtain lifts cautiously

afraid of the scene that awaits

The trill of the pigeon’s Sabbath chorale

Will prove insufficient means to placate

A disappointed deity

Who is soundly being ignored

By those congregating here yesterday

as the pubs and the clubs closed their doors.

The females in tiny clothing,

the men with the strut or the swagger

at the start of the night but come 2am

They can barely manage to stagger

To the closest pizza shop or kebab van

for a doner to settle the booze

served by foreigners milking our system

by toiling in kitchens and taking abuse.

In front of the bank was a scuffle

Between a blonde guy and his best mate

Over a bird and it’s not the first time a girl

turned their brotherly love into hate.

By sunlight the droplets of crimson

have mixed in with the piss and stale chips

Municipal cleaners arrive to erase all the signs

Of the Saturday night apocalypse.

Day 1

It’s more than a fraction strange that I have finally taken the steps necessary to take this idea of mine and turn it into something concrete. I thought that it might seem a little bit pretentious to create my own brand and some may think that the title of this site is plain stupid however, in my humble opinion, it describes perfectly what this site is.

I don’t consider the term dullard as being completely negative – life is full of dull moments, not every moment can be a thrilling, roller coaster ride. Most of what I do is connected to my work role or my life as a wife and mother. It is the dull bits of each day that are the mainstay of what we are. I live for fun, I live for the party and the extreme joys and pleasures of life but I also live for the day to day, the things that fill the majority of my hours. I therefore happily class myself as a dullard and so should you!

It’s getting late and I shall be going to bed very shortly so I shall wrap this up with a short poem. A haiku – piss easy and not too demanding at this time of night:

I bloody did it

My ambition all along

Now, what should I write?