James Orr
What is intelligence for
But to ask what Jordan Peterson
Would do when the heat is on
© Gail Foster 3rd Sept 2026
Psychology
Tit for Tat
A nursery rhyme about war
When playing games of tit for tat
It’s best that all agree
On which was tit and tat and that
Or all will be at sea
Forever playing tit for tat
For all eternity
That was a tat! That was a tit!
That looked like tat to me!
You started that! I’ll finish it!
And then we’ll go for tea
Another tat! Do you submit?
A tit! Submit to me?
And on they went. A tit, a tat
And never could agree
On which was tat to end the spat
Or tit did start the spree
Forever playing tit for tat
For all eternity
© Gail Foster 15th April 2024
The Seven Bins On Fire Without The Smoke
The Tories though. We watch them in dismay
All shifty liars, some said, others thought
That some were reasonable, if you caught
Them in the light, or on a summer’s day
You’d listen to the things they had to say
At least without becoming overwrought
Or thinking of the wars our fathers fought
Or falling on our creaky knees to pray
What is this shit? The fantasies, the lies
The seven bins on fire without the smoke
The artificial wars against the woke
The desperation and dogwhistle cries
For what? For populism and the cause!
The conference erupts in wild applause
© Gail Foster 4th October 2023
Putin Did A Little Speech
On the occasion of Putin’s state of the nation address after a year of war in Ukraine
Putin did a little speech The audience looked pretty shot But sat and listened to him preach Because they had to. Looked a lot Like statues, as if some had died Already, some were nearly dead And some were simply dead inside A rictus smile stuck on a head And on he ranted, on and on As one by one they fell like flies Upon the floor - another gone And then another - in their eyes Was only darkness. Clear the floor Said Putin, and then bring me more © Gail Foster 21st February 2023
He Always Was Conservative, Was Fred
He always was Conservative, was Fred 'The one thing they will never take away - Conservative and proud!' he used to say 'And British. British born and British bred' He liked a bit of bunting on the shed And Elgar, bits of which he liked to play Upon his trumpet on Election Day 'To keep away the immigrants' he said When Boris came at first he liked him well But then there was the party thing, and he Was not impressed by that, nor by the smell Of bullshit, Truss's rubbish, his MP - The list went on. He just said 'Fucking Hell!' And died, they said, in front of the TV © Gail Foster 21st October 2022
What Company They Keep
On the introduction of the phrase 'anti-growth coalition' to the Conservative lexicon The Ministry of Silly Words devised A phrase designed to bring about division So dreadful it was worthy of derision One has to wonder why one is surprised Or that one is, with others so despised Described as being in some coalition So comprehensive in its composition That definition would be ill-advised Wait - anti-what? The anti-what are who? The enemy. The enemy is me? And anyone who dares to disagree Apparently, with anything they do What words they use to lull us all to sleep! How dull they are. What company they keep © Gail Foster 7th October 2022
Sorrow Weeps For Me
*
In dusty cupboards, far from prying eyes
I hide my dark and private miseries
And dress for town in bright accessories
With reddened lips, and silkly stockinged thighs
And sickly smile, in magical disguise
For there be war to fight on days like these
Dark demons to defeat, and gods to please
And light to draw down from the sullen skies
…
In dusty cupboards, Sorrow weeps for me
There be no place for cowards in the fray
Nor dark despair, nor moaning misery
To dull my fire and fill me with dismay
Or worse, betray me to the enemy
– I’ll catch you later, Sorrow, I’m away…
*
© Gail Foster 28th January 2017
Bullshit Nirvana
for Steve Doolan
*
Let the world turn as it will
‘Tis all the same to me
Blah Blah Bullshit Nirvana
Sweet, Sweet Epiphany
…
Bring on the empty horses
For ‘tis all a comedy
Blah Blah Bullshit Nirvana
Sweet, Sweet Epiphany
…
We come and then we go
We be and we not be
Blah Blah Bullshit Nirvana
Sweet, Sweet Epiphany
…
I’m a bloke at a bar, I am
A wild bird flying free
Blah Blah Bullshit Nirvana
Sweet, Sweet Epiphany
…
So I’ll have a lime and soda, ta
‘Tis all the same to me
Blah Blah Bullshit Nirvana
Sweet, Sweet Epiphany
*
© Gail Foster 6th January 2017
The Fall of Camelot
*
Down where the bins were overflowing
On concrete where the cracks were showing
As weary winds came slowly blowing
A manky crow began a-crowing
Songs of Camelot
Through window dim the lady saw it
Heard it, and could not ignore it
Acknowledged, there was nothing for it
She had lost the plot
…
She blamed the mirror, false perceptions
Embarrassingly dire reflections
Figments of her own deceptions
Misread signals, misconceptions
And bloody Lancelot
And other knights, they’d all been arseholes
Shites wrapped up in pretty parcels
Crawling back to rule their castles
When the day grew hot
…
And Good Sir That, and Good Sir This
She’d let them all just take the piss
So grateful was she for a kiss
Or any scrap of earthly bliss
That scraps was all she got
The last one, oh, he’d been a giver
Until the day when, all-a-quiver
He caught a catfish in the river
And her love forgot
…
Enough, she said, enough projections
All of you, take your rejections
Yer fish and shit, and your erections
Faithless hearts, and imperfections
For I like you not
With that she fastened up the latches
Made a bonfire, found some matches
And, as was mentioned in dispatches
Blew up Camelot
*
© Gail Foster 11th October 2016
Glad Eye
for Steve Doolan
*
A man saw a maid, dancing high on a hill
She was wild as the waves of the sea
I’m thinking, he thought, that she’s looking my way
And she sure has a glad eye for me
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
No, sir, she said, ‘tis a trick of the light
You’re deceived, for I’m looking elsewhere
And ‘tis only by chance that my mischievous glance
Has been caught by your curious stare
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
How she danced, how she danced, on the top of the hill
How she swirled like a cloud in the blue
Appearing to flirt with a flick of her skirt
And the bat of an eyelash or two
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
She was here, she was gone, she was there, she was gone
As the moon on the wings of the fay
For a moment, the light, then the fall of the night
Then the smile, then the looking away
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
Now your man was a no nonsense sensible cove
And time waits for no man, nor he
It was tea-time, and late, so he asked the girl straight
What’s with the glad eye for me?
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
She stopped for a moment, up high on the hill
And she blushed to the prettiest pink
Why, no sir, she lied, there’s just stuff in my eye
And your man is mistaken in drink
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
He thought for a minute, there wasn’t much in it
And tea had a finer appeal
So he bid her good day, in a chivalrous way
Doffed his hat, and then turned on his heel
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
Come back! she said, ‘Twas all bullshit! she said
Though my fancy is fickle, ‘tis true
You may take me, or leave me, but better believe me
I so have a glad eye for you
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?
…
He thought to himself, she’s a right silly lass
But she sure has a glad eye for me
So he beckoned her down from the top of the hill
And took her back home for some tea
…
I may do, I might do, but how would ye know
Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no
For truly it’s really quite tricky to tell
Whether your man has a glad eye as well
*
© Gail Foster 5th October 2016
gailfromdevizes 