What hollow, caustic foulness lies behind the neatly edged hedges,
fences, plastic window frames and glass?
Resting, waiting to be woken, scream what now must not be spoken
Blood-lust of a gutless middle class
What simple lies must needs be told in bold authoritative tones
To activate the drones and make them fight -
To know, that if the call should come they'd march to that benighted drum
And sacrifice intelligence for right?
How big a monster must be built to shoulder guilt for every creeping fear
and insecurity and loss,
Till every hip and critical disclaimant finds a reason for believing
and then carries it, across.
How many layers must be stripped to tip the wretched shreds of indecision
into morals blown apart
And harmless bigot who, at work, was tolerated with a smirk
Now drives a dirk into a stranger's heart?
Now doctor, teacher, business leader, well-respected educated man
proclaims his harmlessness anew,
Make no mistake: the quills are fine and ready as the porcupine
prepares to show what harmless beasts can do.

Track 1: guitar - J. Connoly
                  engineered by Rodney Watson.
                  Do you even know what an engineer does?
                  Thought not.

Track 2: This one was written by our bass player who, quite frankly,
                    rather hoped that people would be dancing or making love to
                    it.  Not sitting on their fat backsides, stroking their chins and
                    stoking up on music trivia like you are.

Track 3: The big hit.  You're now old enough to realise
                    that this track was probably selected by
                    a record company executive, at the expense of another,
                    far more ambitious and rewarding track.  The track that
                  should have been here was so clear and concise
                    that no liner notes would have been necessary.

Track 4: This one doesn't sound as good as it did when you were 16.
                    Nothing is as good as it was when you were 16.
                    It wasn't the song that was good: it was being 16.

Track 5: The girl that this song brings to mind is not, however much
                   you may hope it, sitting in a living room somewhere,
                   listening as you listen, and thinking of you.
                   To be absolutely frank, she was never more
                    than slightly fond of you, and even if she had been
                   she would have got over it long ago.  Girls are better that way.

Track 6: You know, you could be outdoors right now, breathing in
                   the cool fresh air and having some new experiences.
                   Living in the past is very unhealthy, and you could stand
                   to lose a pound or two.

Track 7: Even the band think this one is ****: skip ahead.

Track 8: The violin is played by the lead singer's wife.  You never know
                    when that might come up in a pub quiz.

Track 9: By now you're regretting forking out for an album you
                  already owned simply because it is on a new format.  You are
                   wondering if your old pal would like this for Christmas.
                   He wouldn't.

Track 10: When you were a teenager were you keen a) to develop your
                      own identity, bond with your peers and get a grasp of the
                      zeitgeist or b) sit indoors of an evening and listen to your
                      dad's records?  If you answered 'a', then for god's sake turn
                      this crap off and let your kids listen to their own CDs.  If
                      you answered 'b', you probably never had kids, so don't
                     worry about it.

Betty Botter bravely brought her
best out putting pen to paper
built a book both brave and brittle
based it on the bitter battle
she had fought to beat the bottle
blossomed bigger, better, brighter
got the right to be a writer
Brought the book to Bertie Baxter
Baxter's Bookstore's biggest buyer
but the buyer was no biter
he thought vampire books were better
Tried to bate her and berate her
and belittle Betty Botter
bad benighted ******* bade her
"Be more like the bigger hitters!"
Better bet your bottom dollar
Betty Botter's ****** bitter.

The baker's wife
is neither surprised nor impressed
when he brings her cakes and pastries.
The child of a joiner
can take or leave a treehouse.

But since I am not a poet,
I hope you can take these inelegant lines,
their lack of rhyme or rhythm
and their false humility
and read this in them:

After all this time
you still make me think and see
in new and unusual ways
and for that, and all else besides,
I thank you.

It came from small beginnings.
A shaken woman left her car, engine still running
To see whether or not she had killed the rabbit.
Soft and broken it lay, and she wept, when suddenly
The rabbit drew its final breath
And spoke.
"Don't worry," it said.
"You humans, you're too sentimental!
"You should know, we admire you so much
"That it is a great honour to die at your hands
"Or through the speed of your magnificent machines!"

The woman was startled.

The phenomenon spread around the globe.
In the middle of the South China Sea
A fisherman was greeted by a cheer from his catch.
"Well done!  Well done!" they cried.
"Next time use a smaller mesh, you'll catch more!"

In a chicken battery in Idaho, a young labourer
Whose conscience was troubling him
Almost fainted when 60,000 chickens sang
"For He's a Jolly Good Fellow!" and thanked him for his kindness.

"We are here for you!" said a turtle, choking on a plastic bag.
"You have dominion - use it with pride!" cried a pack-laden donkey.
"We are nothing without your interest - catch us, keep us, eat us, please!"

Tabloids were quick to react.
"One in the eye for the Animal Liberationists,"
said the Daily Mail.

For 24 hours the animals spoke
and then they stopped.
And because their voices
had been strained and strange,
feather muffled and furred,
wrung from throats with no vocal chords
It was impossible to be sure
Whether or not
they were being sarcastic.