Saturday, 11 April 2015

Potter';s Poems. Facebook Hooligan and more

This one’s called Austerity a sterling word..


Austerity? A puzzling thing

I often think as I run down the wing.

My agent he’ll sort it I’m only a boy

Cheer up dear fans for soul see destroy.

Bruised ego or toe nail can’t decide which hurts more.

Mr fix it were are you who’s that's by the door?

Someone called picket with placards and tears,

NHS workers, no rise in three years.

The beautiful games what i love and adore

Obscene wages, oh don't be a bore,

I know fans inside out know what makes them tick,

Pass me that bag think am gonna be sick.



Number 2 untitled.


I wondered lonely as a cloud

That floats o’er dales and hill and all at once I saw a crowd

....must be those aldi mushrooms !



number 3 Facebook hooligan.


I could be a cockney geordie or scouse

I don’t really leave the house

Peep through the curtains, likes coq au vin.

I am the facebook hooligan.


Used to stand at the back, what time is lunch

Never actually threw a punch.

Wave my arms, catch me if u can

I am the facebook hooligan.


Squeeze me Taylor made on heads getting’ fatter,

Like an obese pug but it doesn’t matter.

Here’s the meals-on-wheels, ending in van,

I am the facebook hooligan.

Talk of old school, Custer’s last stand

Enemy numbers getting on for a grand.

Against 50 top dressers is Gok Wan top man?

E-mail please, facebook hooligan.


Selfies? Breathe in chaps! More pictures of cans cooling in fridges all over the land.

Let battle commence mouse keyboard in hand.

An epic tussle already began,

Step forward Walter Mitty, facebook hooligan.


My Zorro mask is my little P.C

Used to dress up in blag S.Tachini

Tog the kids up in replica shirts

Meet like-minded fatties, Florida like me all top blerts.

Sorry top boys we call ourselves Mummy where’s my fake tan

Another cyber space kick-off, facebook hooligan.

Friday, 13 March 2015

Potter's Poems.


Ohh Mrs!! Titter ye not! How very very dare PSG!

Jose,Jose, in your 4 grand jacket
Prowlin’ the line ,must be on a packet
A gesture a sneer well fancy that
on order from Harrods here’s your jesters hat
Croydon’s top casuals havin’ it large
a lone metro traveller easy to barge.
See they love you they love you wohh-wwwohh
The Hugo Boss fatties, next stop Savlle row ?
To your credit, you slagged them, which I really admire
nearly as much… as I like your attire.
I’m growin’ quite fond of your Frankie Howard pout

next time when you,re miked up just take a time out.
Cos the clich├ęd pundits Messer’s Lineker
& co
drone on like a space cake minus weed to much dough.
You don’t fool me, you love playin' the fool
just like all the great showmen you’ve only one rule.
Keep the punters happy, yes you’ll get my vote
and when xmas is comin’ please send me that coat.



The Horribly long-oval faced twat, JC (jowl'd  cunt) Himself

Not really sure wot it is I hate most
the name of the show or the moronic hosts.
Talk about pistons and the strength of a horse
A nuclear strike I’d happily endorse
Middle age toffs, Henry n’ Henrietta,
Baying like sheep things can only get better
says the one who resembles a sad seventies  clone
or a geography teacher still living at home
Then comes Thomally Sebastian  and tomboy little sis
named after her brother, oh heavenly bliss!
Yes she’s Ttom with two tt’s, our fave nanny did choose
to close to our horses she plied them with booze.  
Paps said “bestiality to me, that's just fine  
It’s a oneness with livestock, simply devine”!
By now dear readers it’s so plain to see
I’m more for Lambrini than Lambourgini
Stout yeomen, three stooges , I need to redress
It’s the top gear audience I fuckin detest

Tuesday, 3 March 2015

Ben Turner is a Dead Man- Ryan Bracha (book Review)

Its well documented that I am a big supporter of the musings of the talented indie writer Ryan Bracha. I've read and reviewed pretty much all of his books and remain convinced this is a writer with a massive future. 
Ben Turner is a Dead Man is part 2 of a trilogy of books he is writing that followed on from the equally excellent Paul Carter is a Dead Man
The Books are set in a not too distant or unbelievable future where New Britain has closed ranks against the world due to Britain's delusional Political Leader's ongoing paranoia about the threat of terrorism and immigration. It's essentially a police state where law and order is governed by groups of violent right wing law enforcement networks who after detaining suspects allow the the great British public to decide their fate via a social network style voting system. 
In the First book a rebellion by an unlikely group of criminals (including the Hero of Book 2 Ben Turner) escalates into a violent and bloody attack on the heart of the law enforcement network before escaping to the nirvana that Scotland has become. However the activities of Mr Carter and his cohorts have planted a seed that has started to grow in Britain which results in further bloody activities and protests.
In The second book Paul Carter's right hand man (Ben Turner) is sent back into England with a gang of mad Scottish cronies to sort out a rogue group of (unlikely) activists, who are travelling the country systematically killing Law enforcement officers in wonderfully violent and gory manners (led by the enigmatic and sadistic Natalie). In the meantime the ex right hand man of the countries leader (Harry Garner) has headed in the opposite direction to approach Paul Carter to address the rogue killers. Much violence ensues along with all manner of brilliant twists and turns until all is revealed in a live televised broadcast by Ben.
As usual with Ryan Bracha's work, the pace is relentless, the humour dark and the violence is VIOLENT. This man pulls no punches! It was one of those books where you almost try to slow down to make the reading experience last that bit longer..oh and at the time of writing this the book is available for the ridiculous price of 99p!? ...what the fuck are you waiting for..go buy this book!

Buy it here

Monday, 9 February 2015

POTTER brings Poetry & Prose back to our Pages

The New year means Percy Shelley takes a bow in the form of Ins n Outs so pin back your lug‘oles me old suckers....It’s a POEM!
Put the Vera’s Down and pay attention.
Keith LEMON muzzies and North Face onezies.
Hard case uncles and plastic face grannies,
Who go to town and talk about graft and blow off Dubliners now that is a fact.
Orange faced aunties standin’ around lookin’ down coked up noses of people on brown.
‘He was alright our Joey didn't rob from his own,
till he got lifted on a visit to Rome
with the league of welldoers from Scotland of Road, two-ed up wid a bag ‘ead from somewhere out east (ALBANIAN? the YEMEN?).
Or was it the priest who introduced bobby?
Or was it the beast who sat in the corner and grinned like a tool,
driving manically by his infant son’s school,
sayin’ “is rite lad is rite lad”
How many times can a repeat offender repeat his lines?
How long is a piece of string? Is the obvious answer!
Einstein, my friend, just wot is the answer then?
There goes the nephew driving too fast in,
not so sleepy, Dovecot reeekin’ of grass. ‘lad lad lad!
Yes the song remains the same:
me bird’s doin’ me head in. She needs to refrain
from Jeremy Kyle blags…
I’m not goin’ on, I have my credibility to think about.
Experimentation. I hope that's a word?
Some FLOYD ‘ead said (or was it a bird?
‘Twas a long time ago in the dole in town,
a steamin’ metropolis - white meetin’ brown,
on the dole in LIVERPOOL town,
Were north met south and queued in a line for our coins off Thatcher.
Make sure you’re on time, cos they’d have you
spluttering and blamin’ your ma,
or your da, or the broken down car.
Renshaw Hall, the place it was called, biggest in Europe. Fuckin massive! One weird place. Bizzies sittin’ off, ex wives, ex pats, ALL WAITING WAITIN……………..
Then off to the bier keller if u got the holies of holies: THE EMERGENCY GIRO.
Renshaw Hall Blues.
((Sorry, I really am only messing… Here goes....))
I’ve got those Renshaw Hall blues, late again.
I got nothing to lose, yer soft cunt!
You have delayed giro.
Renshaw Hall BLUES...
Hey Mr Postman! Sometimes you forget
on your visits to Ladbrokes, the nice girl in the vets
(with whom you’re madly in love). The whole street knows
the affair around canines ‘Why don't u propose?’
See we’re not really arsed, you committed no crime,
Just please Mr Postman get my giro on time.

Tuesday, 20 January 2015

Save The Casa

On april 4th there's a celebration gig to raise funds to save one of the most historic pubs in Liverpool. Before it was bought by the Dockers twenty years ago, I remember going there when it was a brilliant (illegal) late night drinking Den ran by a Jamaican firm from Liverpool 8. Back then it was called The Casablanca. 50p would get you in after 11pm (when all the bars closed) and you could be there, literally all night.

As the article below (Written by Brian Reade for the Daily Mirror- ) tells you much more eloquently than I could, the building was purchased by the Liverpool dockers twenty years ago. I drank there regularly on Fridays ever since (until i started working away from the city). I have never once seen a fight in there or even a serious altercation (well maybe a bit of a one at The End Book Launch 2 years back) I have promoted gigs there, put gigs on and referred 100's of people to the advice centre upstairs (where my friend Anthony Thompson has worked voluntarily in the advice centre, along with many other dedicated and loyal staff since its inception).
Unfortunately, It seems that the Casa has now lost its funding and could close down, we can't let that happen! 

The Casa Soildarity Show aims to raise funds and awareness to keep this Liverpool Treasure alive - Be warned there are VERY FEW TICKETS LEFT so you better get yer arse in gear if you want to see an amazing show and help save one of the finest establishments in Liverpool.

Visit here for details of the show and to buy tickets and read the article below from the Daily Mirror to find out more about the history of The Casa

20 years ago 500 Liverpool dockers were sacked for refusing to cross a picket line. Now their spirit is remembered in a gig with the likes of Ricky Tomlinson and John Bishop

MichaelCooper /AllsportRobbie Fowler of Liverpool shows his support for the dockers strikes
Robbie Fowler of Liverpool shows his support for the dockers strikes
For those who fear communal solidarity no longer exists here’s a tale to lift the spirits.
When five men were sacked in an overtime row 20 years ago, 500 Liverpool dockers refused to cross a picket line. Despite being described by Lloyds List as “the most productive workforce in Europe” they too were sacked.
Their 850-day dispute became one of the longest in British labour history. With the men risking everything to uphold the most sacred of trade union principles, it was also seen across the world as one of the most noble.
On day one American longshoremen on both coasts and Australian wharfies brought their countries’ ports to a standstill.
On other days every Japanese docker stopped working and in South Africa all ports were closed down “in solidarity with the Liverpool dockers who stood by us during apartheid”.
Colin LaneRicky Tomlinson pictured at Liverpool Town Hall
Ricky Tomlinson pictured at Liverpool Town Hall
At home acts like Jo Brand and Noel Gallagher did fundraisers, footballer Robbie Fowler was fined by Uefa for unveiling a dockers’ T-shirt and support groups the length of Britain swung behind the sacked men.
But with the TGWU neutered by Thatcher’s anti-union laws the dockers eventually lost. One legacy of that defeat is those zero-hours contracts that blight so many lives today.
Yet the solidarity never waned. Under the tutelage of Jimmy McGovern some of the dockers wrote a drama about the dispute for Channel 4, using the £130,000 fee to buy a building in the aptly-named Hope Street. They turned it into a communal hub. A not-for-profit bar, function room and advice centre. An open house for anyone in need of help or radical stimulation. A lasting memorial to the spirit of solidarity shown in their dispute.
Downstairs it hosts everything from Greek theatre and salsa to pensioners’ meetings and political forums. There’s an exhibition about the Spanish Civil War. I even had my wedding do there.
John Bishop
Upstairs they give free expert advice on benefits, employment, asylum, debt and welfare to anyone who walks in off the street. Over the past 15 years it’s estimated more than £10million-worth of advice has been given to people in desperate need.
But due to loss of funding and rent, The Casa faces an uncertain future. They could keep the bar open but unless the rest of the building is used to fight for social justice they feel they’d be betraying their founding principles.
So they won’t do it.
Mark Steel
Mark Steel
Before Christmas it looked like The Casa had only months left, until solidarity came to the fore once more.
Phone calls to comedians John Bishop, Ricky Tomlinson, Neil Fitzmaurice and Mark Steel and to musicians The Farm and John Power gave us a line-up. Another call to the 1,600-seater ­Philharmonic Hall gave us a venue.
PAJohn Power, lead singer of Cast
John Power, lead singer of Cast
All of them agreed, in a ­heartbeat, to do their bit.
And so we have The Casa ­Solidarity Show on Friday April 17, the tickets for which go on sale today at the Liverpool ­Philharmonic website.
Colin LaneLiverpool actor Neil Fitzmaurice
Liverpool actor Neil Fitzmaurice
Buy one and not only are you guaranteed to have a cracking night, you’ll keep a treasured ­institution built on rare principles going for another few years.
More than that, you’ll keep alive a truth which says no matter what you throw at working people, no matter what you try to take from them, when they stick together they won’t be beaten.
WikicommonThe Farm at Guilfest
The Farm

2 of The End Writers  (Phil Jones and Tony McClelland)  outside The Casa at THE END book launch December 2012

Wednesday, 24 December 2014

Christmas 2014 (mini) Ins & Outs . Happy Chrstmas droogies!


Ironical mentors

Still not being able to build a joint

bevvieing solo

Giving tourist wrong information

Still bunking the bus

Dreaming in the chippie

Knowing fuck all about Phones

Boring the arse off yourself

Waving to geese

Clocking lead on random roofs

Living in the Pasty

Swimming in coffee

Being Toothless (as in having no teeth)

Ravishing yer bird

Following pop stars into the bogs (they love it).

Faking an organism

Having a ginger, tory, man utd supporting friend.

Saying, “I say, I say, I say”

Flicking yer bream

Lumberjack Shits

Crawfish flavoured socks

Violently assaulting your sink with a bottle of hai karate aftershave.        Discussing the molecular formula of sputnik when stoned

Elmer fudd type headwear.

Saying "its to cold to snow".

Having a villainous  chin.

walking like James Cagney.

Bohemian blow jobs.

brad Jones doing his best Kes impression against Man united.

Developing a psychosexual relationship with Offal.

Transient pricks.

looking for Flemings jeans online.

Eyebrow licking

Pigs in blankets

Wrapping hot bacon around you cock

Snideing off to meet yer real mates when you on the works night out


Talking fondly about borstal

Planning tatoos

Having loads of facebook buddies

Agreeing with hard cases

Ordering obscure drinks

Being indifferent

Painting paint

Playing conkers with sprouts

Knocking at mine when I’m having my Christmas lunch…look just fuck off will yer!

Cum bubbles

Christmas eve kick offs

Asking for Bubble

Holiday homes in Skem

Still being a Scall in yer 50’s

Randomly being in Sunderland and waiting to order at the bar when a firm of Man City scalls piley in.

Being the narky parent

Being toothless (metaphorically)

Cool MP’s.


Banjo string related japes

Not getting the deliberate spelling mistakes

Jayda Fransens 

Disproportionate forehead.

Hideous Xmas jumpers.

Joe Andersons plenteous chins.

Smokie MOs ghastly clientele

Sustainable cocaine hard ons.

Saying "you got no farns ".

Bob Geldof's turgescent eyes

James fuckin Corden

Monday, 24 November 2014

Mick Potters Groundpig Memories

Mick Potter's Groundpig memories

Some time ago we published The End staff's collective memories of those crazy 80's and 90's nights when, by pure word of mouth the cities youth clambered and fought (literally) to see Liverpool's folky hippy good time band Groundpig (you can read that here  if you haven't already done so). At the time Mr Potter refused to add his account and demanded we either set him up on a date with Viv Albertine or pay him in buckets of bourbon.  We did both and we can now release Micks Groundpig memories in all their glory................

Mr Johnnie O'Connell's well deserved nationwide theatre "Simply Dylan" tour got me thinking ( admittedly months after master Jones asked me to do "something,anything about Groundpig ) Playing the ultimate snob i can do better than that ,yes I can pre-date Groundpig . If Mr O'Connell doesn't mind I can go back even further into the mists of time ,a bit like that drunken loon Alan Williams ex Beatles manager used to do in the Post Office friday afternoons.....that, as I often say, is another story.

The venue, The Throstles Nest, Scotland Road, Liverpool. The exact date I,am unsure of. (maybe 79 XTC,S making plans for Nigel?  a subliminal crystal ball homage to Birkonian rock gods Half Man Half Biscuit perhaps ? ) My top tune on the Throstles Juke box at the time, pop pickers.! Well I think so.... (the mind can play tricks when you try to recollect, dear ENDLINGS)  Yep XTC, back to back with one hit wonders Thunderclap Newmans Something In The Air Dylans Lay Lady Lay and bizarrely The Worzels I,ve Got A Brand New Combine Harvester a truly ecletric mix,and I have'nt even started on the punters yet ! 

Trading under the banner of "Riley", Johnnie and a collection of free spirited musical hobos from the Great Homer Street /Soho Street diaspora nervously shuffled onto the cramped stage.The crampness of said stage was,not helped by the fact Riley seemed to possess more musicians than your average symphony orchestra (perhaps encourged by eccentric Licencee, the fearsome Joe O Driscolls act of folly in promising all the band free ale) 

Johnnie remembers the Throstles in true understated Johnnie fashion as a bit rough.

In truth i feel this does the ol' place a great disservice. The cavenous back (back) room with stage and obligatory pool table was a wacky hub of Cammel Laird ship workers, pick pockets, merchant sea men, Tate and Lyle glamorous gals and an Errol Flynn lookalike glass collector called Charlie who was one of the brainest fellas I've ever met in my life. A hapless alcoholic, he would embroil you in some conversation about the Cuban missile crisis or  the artificial price of South African diamonds  (obviously while you got him a drink ) only to then walk away loudly ridiculing you much to the amusement of fellow victims...I loved him! I always came back for more .

The Riley set, I'm sure, included The Devil went down to Gorgia with its insane Hemanesque violin played with perfection by the multi talented Graeme, sadly no longer with us. Duelling Banjos from the film Deliverence an everyday song about folks from the Wirral. A couple of Genesis (,remember them numbers?)  and of course tunes by Robert Zimmerman. Fog On The Tyne by Lindersfarne may well have got a blast but the plumes of purple haze drifting over the band had nothing to do with any Mersey inclement weather and more to, it seemed, the  compulsory smoking of illegal..stuff. I remember an old ex docker (Frank) who wouldn't have looked out of place on Sinatras infamous mob snap, joint in hand grinning away as Johnnie and the boys strutted their stuff. Mein host Mr O Driscoll tolerated the Lebanese  (I'm no  historian but red Leb sounds about right...... or was it Kyber pass black ?)   on his premises simply because i think he wasn't quite sure what the fuck it was. He was an old school publican who would mutter profanities to himself if a lone black sailor, on his way to nearby Great Homer Street market, strayed in looking for " C : EAD MILE FAILTE, forgetting perhaps that he was an immigrant himself. Riley went down a treat! Those grinning youthful faces have stayed with me. I still watch Johnnie play now whenever I get the chance,. Sometimes I think he's  saying to himsef  "jesus Mick are you stalking me ?" But then I look around and I'm reminded of the classic line outside the headmasters office in KES.....Same ol faces same ol faces !  C EAD  MILE FAILTE ? A HUNDRED THOUSAND WELCOMES . In true End fashion  I aint checked it for grammatical or spelling errors.  Fuck it... J. KEROUAC.

Photo from John O'Connell's FB page