Monthly Archives: November 2013

The (Poetry) Mugger by Graeme Sandford

The (Poetry) Mugger by Graeme Sandford


There was a man walking through the park

Walking through the park… in the dark!

For a lark!

And I was that man!

I was hoping to be attacked… by the ‘poetry mugger’

He leaps out at you and attacks your mind

With ‘the word’ – the word on the street

And from your toes to your feet –  and, beyond those toes –

You listen… with your ears… and your mind;

And if you ‘don’t’ listen… you won’t find out…

You won’t know what you are missing!

He ‘literally’ inserts a mixture of rhyme and rhythm into you

And plunges it deep, deep, deep…

And he keeps on ‘plunge!, plunge, plunge!’

And your mind is a sponge; you soak up every separate syllable, seeking  something… seeking some thing… desperately seeking… Susan? No, no, no!

Some spark! Some sentient sense! Some Celeriac!!! Sorry, so silly.

The poetry mugger leaves you changed; your cortex re-arranged;

Your mind, altered, shrugs and assimilates the new knowledge within

Is it sinning? No, it’s a new beginning; your head may be spinning; but, in the long run you’re winning.

And talking of running… if it’s not the ‘poetry mugger’ but, some other bugger – run!

The Daleks Stole My Blueberry Pancakes

Dalek and Blueberry Pancakes
I’ve been considering a thought that crossed my mind only recently.

The thought was this: ‘When would a ‘Dalek’ ever have the need to say the word ‘squirrel?’

I actually doubt whether the word ‘Squirrel’ is actually in the Dalek’s dictionary at all, and if it is; why?

I can’t think of a single situation when a Dalek would even think
of the word ‘squirrel’ – never mind actually saying it!

I don’t know if the Dalek race might, at one time in their history,
have tried to invade the ‘planet’ Squirrel,

or, perhaps, whether the word ‘Squirrel’ might be a Dalek swear word
for when they came across a staircase or a high kerb in their travels!

It makes you think!

Talking of Dr. Who…


The Daleks Stole My Blueberry Pancakes – GRS

The script for this following tale was recently turned down by the BBC. I am, therefore, in the happy position of being
able to tell you the tale tonight of when:

‘The Daleks Stole My Blueberry Pancakes!’

SD Dr Who Theme

Picture the scene.

The Place: The Planet Earth.

The Year: Twenty-Thirteen AD

The Time Of Day: Around About Tea-Time.

The Story:

SD Dr Who Theme Excerpt


The Daleks stole my blueberry pancakes,

And carried them backwards through time.

Since then there’s been nothing but anguish and heartaches;

How could they have commited such a despicable crime?


I know that my pancakes were lovely;

They were destined for my tea that night,

But the Daleks found a way to distract me, (“Look, there is a squirrel!”)

And purloined my pudding – that can’t be right!


I’ve been to see (The “Doctor”) my physician,

He filled in a form with his pen,

Then told me with diagnostic precision:

“You will see your pancakes again!”


(Then) I popped to the chemists for my medication,

They told me: “Take these, right away!”

I took them, and without hesitation,

travelled back in time (and a relative distance in space) many a day.




I woke up on Skaro, the planet,

I know it’s fictional, but, what can you do

When you’re stuck in a rhyme, and a Time-Lord

has prescribed what will happen to you.


There was Davros, the rotter,

And there… were my pancakes: was I too late?

He turned to me, waving his plunger,

And you know he said: “EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!”


Well, I avoided his rays of destruction;

Nimbly, I ducked, I was great!

But, the noise of his fruitless plunger’s suction

Brought twenty more shiny tin Daleks, all calling:”EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE”


Well, to cut a long story short, I suceeded,

In rescuing my pancakes and plate,

By magnetising all of the Daleks

And avoiding their cries of “EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!”


However,If you think that this plot is quite lacking

In detail… and content (as did the BBC); well, you should know that it’s hard to create

A story with depth and real meaning,

When all your foe says is: “EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!”


And, ladies, that Davros, he really wasn’t much of a talker,

I’d not take him out on a date,

When in reply to your thoughts on the weather,





I returned safely from my exploits on Skaro, and realise now that I must at all times guard my blueberry pancakes with due care and attention, but I have learnt of a food that the Daleks desire ‘even more than blueberry pancakes’; and that food is: ‘Eggs Benedict! Eggs Benedict! Eggs Benedict! Eggs Benedict!’

SD Dr Who Theme Out

Tabitha Fetches a Stick

Tabitha Fetches a Stick by Graeme Sandford


When she was a kitten, Tabitha shocked us by barking.

Now, one of the things that you are taught (or discover) in life is that cats miaow and dogs bark; sometimes even before you can count up to a gazillion. To have this fundamental tenet turned topsy-turvy and upside down on its head is to cause the mind to go into premature meltdown (minds generally go into meltdown much later in life) as much as black and white suddenly changing places or gravity to work in the opposite way – but we wouldn’t lose so many balloons, would we?

Tabitha not only barked; she fetched sticks; chewed upon bones; howled when outside; to be let in; chased parked cars; and loved being in the car with her head stuck out the window as the parked cars flew by.

We got used to her ways; but, people, meeting her for the first time; were taken aback at her growling; until she decided they were harmless; may have humpable legs; or were going to take her for a walk… on a lead. Tabitha is one in a… well, one in a huge number (perhaps very near a gazillion) when it comes to pets.

7 Things About Me

Seven things about me:

·      Whilst with the English Army in Danuphyu, Burmah, my great grandfather, George Sandford (who I am named after) was present at the signing of the Treaty of Yandabo which formally ended the First Anglo-Burmese War. I have a copy of that treaty upon my wall.

·      Having a rare blood group – ICAM-4 (Intercellular Adhesion Molecule-4 – formerly known as the Landsteiner-Weiner [LW] blood system type) I am on twenty-four hour alert if there is a need for my specific blood type for transfusion (it works both ways if I need a transfusion). I wear a ICAM-4 wrist tag.

·      I once spent three months of my life going undercover under an assumed name (Peter A. Weeks). I was found out when the people I was then associating with happened (whilst with me – by purest chance) to meet up with some friends from my past life – it all blew up amazingly!

·      Fundamental to my being is my writing. Upon occasion I have been known to have online arguments that include up to four of my created writing-voices. The credibility is in the writers (me) having clearly defined back stories and points of view. Many were fooled. I was reconciled to myself – eventually.

·      I seem to have the gift of being able to tell somebody’s age from just looking at their face – there is more to it than that, but to tell would take all the mystery out of it for you.

·      Prior to my current job in Hampshire County Council as a Creative Writing Co-ordinator, I was a plumber.

·      I have a deep fear of the colour Heliotrope and the letter ‘J’ but only when the two are combined – separately they are okay; even though I do sense a prickling in my thumbs when they are seen.   

14 Line Max. Funny Poem No. 3 by Graeme Sandford

14 Line Max. Funny Poem No. 3 by Graeme Sandford


Define: ‘funny’. An egg on a head; crack the shell

Runny! The yokes on you, you say, well…

Not all of us are born comedians, or clowns,

And sometime when the joke is upon us, frowns

Issue from our facial muscles, not happy-go-lucky

Smiles, as we laugh at a prank that is mucky… yucky!

And talking of jokes (which we were) a man walked into a bar

‘Ouch!’ he cried – it was an iron one – and you saw that punch-line from afar.

Slapstick: A whacking paddle to make a comedy sound

Also: visual gags and pratfalls; that are crude, but harmless ‘in the round’.

And there are some ‘funny’ jokes that are not worth the telling;

Like the ‘Purple Man’ who makes us all feel like yelling:

‘Give it a rest! I’ve heard it before! Once more and I’ll go magental!’

Which is a joke in itself; and needs no guidance parental.

Elephant (in the Room)

It’s hot in here, and moist and dark

It smells like a regular zoological park

The sound of brickbats we can’t ignore

Leave your crocodile tears outside the door

And we just can’t ignore the elephant in the room


You’ve packed your trunk, you’re up for drama

You ticked all of the boxes on your emotional llama

The taxi’s booked, the cub fare’s paid

You’re pulling the pin of an orang-utangrenade

And we dare not ignore the elephant in the room


What it is, you just can’t say

But it’s extremely large, and wrinkly and grey

It’s got two big ears and four stocky legs

And I’d be very surprised if it’s called Fido, and begs.

Who can even begin to ignore the elephant in the room?


And the elephant is a patient being, it would stay there all day

If you don’t look it face to face, and find the words to say

If you just recognised that the elephant is there and waiting

For your attention, there should be no more hesitating.

As, if we do not ignore the elephant in the room, any more…

It may just go away…

And we may just save our marriage…

the carpet…

and the floor.


Well, to say that I didn’t write yesterday (as I am writing this on the 3rd) is an untruth. I have just this moment put the finishing touches to the ‘Toe-in-the-Water’ Radio Show (this one is episode 3) that I … Continue reading