a work of genius…..

The following fragment was found in an ancient Oxfordshire watering-hole in the neighbourhood of the village of Cropredy.

Although the work is anonymous, its unsurpassed mastery of the style and metric technique of the Old-English heroic epic, though in some places still in the early stages of literary fruition, clearly marks it as a work of genius.

The Epic of the McBastards

introducing the clan….

Lo and behold! We have heard of the glory of this ancient tribe;

How they wrought mighty deeds and became renowned far and wide.

Hail the McBastards!

How in the course of time their numbers grew and their kinsmen fared.

For in no tribe shall anyone prosper

Unless by the glorious deeds of boozing and boasting.

And the bestowing of graceful gifts of friendship and generosity!

the festival….

Thus it came to pass in some murky and misty past

That every year shortly after the summer solstice

When blood flows the faster and no mind is set on sobriety,

Tribes from all four corners of the land

Flocked together for their furious flings;

Revelling in mead, music, merriment and meat,

Swearing to get sloshed so much

They’d never know they had been there!

the sacred spot….

As ever, the cunning and crafty McBastards would seek

Ways to secure the best spot in the fields

Dotted with cow-pats; that most sacred of sites.

Bribing the guardsmen with food and with beer

To bestow them that acre so dearly desired.

Then, toiling away at erecting their tents

Slowly but surely that stronghold took shape

And all were set to join in that festival fair

Hosted by those champions of bardic invention;

Famed all through the realm as Fairport Convention!

a merry gathering…..

No misers they were of their beer or their grace;

From all walks of life, they were the gentlest of race!

With their Chief to ensure all received that was due;

Be it space in the field, food, drink and tall stories too.

With the years getting on their numbers arose

New tongues heard from countries both distant and far,

Mingled with Anglo-Saxon and Scots.

Dutch, Danish, American tribesmen joined in

In riotous song, racket and din.

That tentament truly was no haven of peace!

Nor did the Cherwell, don’t take it amiss

Ever cope with such torrents of piss!

about epithets….

Their epithets born with pride and with pleasure

Indeed were well-chosen, each being a treasure

Of aptness and silliness, relating to

Traits and instincts both gruesome and grand

Yes truly they were a disorderly band.

A gentle giant named Scoffer with appetites vast

Both culinary and carnal; he’s one to last.

A scion from Somerset, that most scenic of lands

A woodcarving wizard to be held high in regard

His dirty mind a treasure to any word-mongering bard!

They all knew their Beenz, by God, she knew how to spill them;

If ever there was any, here was a genuine gem.

A loquacious wee lassie of true Scottish extraction

Driving all other McB’s to desperate distraction.

Loudest of the McLoughlins, this affectionate filly,

No mean a feat when you know they were all silly!

Auntie Bobbles, there was no denying her size;

Huge her dimensions, I tell you no lies!

Huge her ambitions as well, as goes the story

As she was seeking in politics for fortune and glory.

Running for Labour, God save us all,

For who needs labour when we’ve got the dole!

Yet, the most generous of souls, always fostering the flame

Of the McBastard spirit and of their fame.

Then there was Humphrey from Frisco, quite keen on his nuts;

A true vitamine freak who worked out his guts

In busy Amerika, that most alien of lands.

A true Dead Head as well, though still much alive.

As you could see with yet again a new wife.

Ah, there was Floater McBastard, that once-bearded old freak

A true British Bastard with his tongue in his cheek

A fool who thought fit to forego the clan’s meeting once

Having turned a doting old lover, the dallying old dunce.

VD and Skippy, a most special case;

Beware when their blood starts to boil and to race;

They jumped about madly in frantic display:

Both faithful McBastards with their minds gone astray.

Ugly George who liked digging up hatches

About home rule for those northern McB’s;

A Scotsman superior both in political pleas

And in songs unmatched for disturbing the Queen’s peace.

Nor should be omitted that illustrious band

Of VandenBastards looking so healthy and grand

Dire was the derision that was blown in their face;

For looking the healthiest and strongest of race;

With fruit, muesli and yoghurt to sustain them all

They needed no more at the Cropredy Ball.

Hard though their fate was, they bore it with pride;

And before too long they had all on their side.

Praise be to Wasping, son of Northumbrian stock

For playing his songs that would make them all rock;

To Paddington too, that gentlest of bears;

As true cuddly bears go, she didn’t have peers!

Of all the McB’s these were but a few;

No need to say they were quite motley a crew;

Some with few teeth; some with none at all;

Some short and stocky of stature, others lanky and tall.

A blooming array of boobs, beards and bums

Some even had graduated to Granddads and Mums.

Some bringing new partners to share in their bliss

Be it musical or marital, who ‘d give either a miss?

a travel of tribute…..

Almost outnumbered by the Dutch at their annual concerts

The McB’s thought it wise to waylay their wiles.

Their dilemma was dour so a Dutch bargain was struck.

With a tour of tribute they hoped to better their luck

Ah, the McB’s on a mission, a most insecure ride

Especially when you know that Beenz was their guide.

flotsam and jetsam…

So onward they sped, swiftly carried by ships

Wandering the whale-road, a toilsome travel it was.

Lots of Dutch courage were needed to comfort their hearts;

What where they in for: friends, foes or farts?

Washed up on the shore they boarded the trains

That took them smoothly ‘cross the Low Countries’ plains

Kindly and helpful were all wherever they went

Suspicious yet they were: was it all cunning or gracious intent?

the welcome….

Weary from wandering their welcome was warm though

As were there beds done without for so long.

Once more united under the banner they stood

and were breakfasted, banqueted and much relished their food

Though foreign it was they scoffed it with taste.

Not mean was the tribute they paid to that table

Rightly they proved their appetite was no mere fable

‘Totally scrumptious’ Beenz managed in between bites

The scene was truly a show of McBastardly rites.

Discreetly eschewing their muesli feigning they had had their fill

So as not to offend their hospitable hosts.

honouring the bonds of kinship…..

Jokes, mirth and laughter all filled the air

As they kindled their kinship in which each had his share.

In order to honour that age-old custom of yore

the choicest of gifts were laid down at the door

of their fellow clansmen, those VandenB’s fair.

No small credit was done to their hosts at that time

Words failed the bard which nearly fucked up his rhyme!

Heady old stuff: Northumbrian mead

A selection of shortbread most Scottish indeed

Books and CD’s, one even recorded, mind you,

By Wasping’s own band, done most handsomely too

the end of the feud….

All these gifts most precious and dear

Were heartily welcomed and more than made up

For the humiliation suffered about fruit muesli and beer.

Finally the feud could be finished, forever and more

Peace was established and settled their score.

No more axes to grind, they all thought it fit

To join some rednecks’ roots music, I tell you no shit.

countries and customs…

Wondrous and wacky were the ways of the Dutch

For the thirsty McB’s ‘t was sometimes too much;

Getting drunk on their beer was an order nearly too tall

As they faced all that froth foaming in cups way too small!

Draining their goblets all down to the dregs

Was never so easy; they were indeed run off their legs

Undaunted this driftwood took it all in their stride

Little knowing they were in for yet another rough ride

The very next morning for to pass a tough test

Hardly were they granted a wee moment’s rest

On two-wheeled steel horses all were to prove

It should be no big deal to be able to move

both with the times and in circles the best

‘One man and his bike’ was the name of that test

Some passed that trial with flying colours and more

Some only floundering with bums feeling sore

Certificates most coveted were proudly exchanged

A celebration was called for and drinks were arranged

Exam nerves, if any, duly washed down with zest

At O’Kelly’s with Guinness and Murphy’s the best

about ancient cultures and kindred spirits…

The next day, sobered up, saw them do their utmost

At exploring the history of the land of their hosts

Keen was their interest and keen was their thirst…

For those cultures, kindred spirits to theirs

Like true Stone Age folk they felt much at home

In that ancient land where once their kinsfolk did roam

Awe-struck they were, when they entered the sites

Where legendary giants held their burial rites

Huge stones, true tokens of times both gruesome and grim.

On hearing all this was the work of the Beaker folk clan

Their interest waxed megalithic indeed and so off they ran

To the nearest boozer for the craving to be quenched

And pay their dues, as a tribute to that tribe

For to know the thirst of these folk was as huge as their stones

Was a challenge they felt only too eager to meet

And they met it with pride and many a toast

To those tribesmen of yore held in reverence the most

departure…

That night at the feast many a song filled the air

In English and Dutch, it all sounded so fair

Then alas came the day for the clan to continue their tour

And bother those McB’s elsewhere in the land

So onward they sped, not sadder or wiser I guess

With cheeses to sustain them on their curious quest

And selections of songs by our musicians the best

God bless you McBastards wherever you roam

And may good fortune join you until you reach home

a most memorable anniversary….

‘t Is true my fellow-clansmen, relentlessly time takes its toll

Wreaking havoc on body and mind as well

At fifty, food, drink and sex begin to tell

Their merciless tale on too luscious and lustful a life

Deeply commiserating with the bard’s sorry plight

The McB’s decided to turn his woes into their delight

And so they sent him their cards, badges and some fine music too

Wishing him well with all the respect that is due

To such a genius of words and of wit

Not mincing their words they admonished him

To mend his ways and pay heed to their call

And rectify those dire five decades of youthful abuse

No late parties but gentle strolls and sitting on the lawn

Avoiding all stress and no sex before nor after dawn

Ah well, you bloody hypocrites, not a shite I care for your foolish advice

Here’s my retort, listen well, for I’ll not tell you twice:

When you turn fifty, indeed do avoid all stress

But if, perchance, you’re offered fine booze or great sex

Make sure you have both the booze and the sex

‘Cause at fifty you truly prefer more to less

The abduction…

As for the quinquagenarian, little could he know

That his loving spouse had all along been in league

With those loony bastards, that party-mongering lot

Quite deftly and deviously they set afoot the plot

To abduct the Bard from his home and have him tried in their midst

Before the Bouncy Council that terrific tribunal

Under false pretences his wife lured him away

So airborne they went, and coming in on a wing and a prayer

They were warmly welcomed by the Chief, Bobbles and Beenz

A most farting welcome…

To Cumbernauld they did speed, where as we know

Is to be found the Clan’s clubhouse, ever so cosy and comfy

For years it has grown into a beacon and refuge

For all those McB’s, who, weary or well,

Seek the comfort and company of the Chief and his spouse

Or indeed just one more excuse for yet another booze-up to get soused

Just as they had entered this darkest of dens, looking so desolate and deserted

The surprise was unveiled and forward did jump

Wasping and Scoffer and sweet Paddington dear

All lights did light up as well as the Bard’s face

Espying those flags, banners, balloons all in his honour

Nay, ‘t would be most presumptious to say so, but in honour of all

Who value true friendship and kinsmanship most

In front of the Clan’s flag at the fireplace the Bard he was stood

Where, royally entertained, he was addressed by the host

Who most eloquently delivered his welcoming words

Repeatedly punctuating his flatulence with his farts

Or where they Scoffer’s ah well, who is to tell?

I ‘m a wizard of words not an expert at smell!

Allegations were made deeply serious and disgraceful

For having offended the Clan’s cast-iron code

Always to act in the most wicked mode

So as not to shame those soakers and bastards

And make them feel better at their own sorry shortcomings

One last chance he was given to put right his sins

To be transported he was far beyond civilization

-If such ever there had been in that country so crude and so grim –

For Oban they were to set off, there was but little to choose

For the Bard except for to give in and finally lose

His last remnants of culture and morals held ever so high

About food fearsome and wholesome…

The very next morning one temptation was readily failed

A copious cooked breakfast was duly assailed

Deftly devoured were bacon and bangers

Potato scones, fried eggs and tomatoes galore

A feast full of calories and fucking cholesterol, who could want more?

But at night, when all were weary from their alehouse wassails

The Bard saw his chance and sneaked swiftly his way

Into the Chief’s larder, so well-stocked, for some muesli to find

Which he secretly hoards there so as not to affront

His fellow McBastards, that bloody old bugger

Thus while happily munching his mouthfuls of muesli away

The Bard slowly but surely started to fancy his stay

Off to Oban…

They all had agreed to meet the next day

At the coach station for go on their way

No end of surprises did they all have in store

For the baffled Bard who had given up the score

Fully oblivious to the hoax that was next

He mounted the carriage before all the rest

Then it was clear, they were all daintily decked out

In garments with the Bard’s effigy, glaringly loud

Ultimate glory had now been achieved

Finally acknowledged now his own claim to fame

So sod off with your Shakespeares you buggers, McBardstard’s the new name

They travelled that land where Fortune’s wheel took so many turns

Along those bonny banks and braes of good old Robbie Burns

Past those snow-capped fells and wild rivers where the silvery salmons leap

The wild mountain thyme along the blooming heather, ‘t was all lost upon this lot

They ‘d rather take a cup of Guinness yet, lest auld acquaintance be forgot

Cheerfully chaperoned they were by Queen Mary Sticky McB

Whose cultured company was much needed as sole guarantee

To at least uphold some shred of decorum whilst on this spree

And stopping for tea, Basil, with her usual flair

Even coaxed the staff out of a tea-pot to grace her collection so fair

The not so Grand Western Hotel…

We duly arrived at the Great Western Hotel

A truly grand place that suited so well

So it would seem, such a multifarious mob

As the McBastards, that disorderly lot

Dispensing fortwith with decorum and all

They braced themselves for yet another McB’s ball

As for service, the joint was absofuckinglutely a farce

The plumbing was leaking, and as it would seem

The lamb-chops had been carved straight from manageress’s unholy arse

Suzy’s slug-ridden salad, though a quite proteine delight

Was too much to stomach, ‘t was ever so sorry a sight

Chef’s special for Beenz, here’s a cynical sound-bite:

‘You won’t get what you ordered, but you will what you didn’t’

For dessert there was the choicest of fruit , please I do beg your pardon

With pears still in their puberty and bananas with a huge hard-on

The ceilidh…

Entertainment that night more than made up for all this

With line-dancing geriatrics that were put to shame

By the undaunted McB’s when they entered the fray

Juggling with fag, hat and pint, Skippy jumped on to the floor

And with his unique Highland Fling he had us all craving for more

Green with embarrassment some folk their eyes did avert

When Skippy revealed what was under his shirt

Old damsels deeply distressed tried to hide their utter dismay

At that reeling rag-bag who wouldn’t give way

To anyone else but those two sisters so silly and sweet:

Rocky and Beenz who first raised the roof; then tore the place down

With their gorgeous Gay Gordons, in a most frenzied display

Of full-blooded Scots fury; grant me some poetic license, I thee pray

Mr P. Pepe, or : Life under a blue banana…

Of all this human wreckage special merit deserves

That gentlest of gnomes, yes let me be bold:

Wherever he was made, they threw away the mould

A true asset no clan can afford to forego

A New Age Travelling weirdo with the weirdest of hairdo’s

A champion of charity and the dearest among drunks

Witness one night, when bewildered by booze,

He begged the Chief to gently take care of his boots

Because they so well deserved it, his most loyal companions

Making friends with the world may come at a price

So please take heed of our well-meant advice:

Haggling up the price of a bangle from 15 to 50p

Is not only paving the path to sainthood but also to poverty

Here’s to a happy long life under a blue banana

Three hails for Mr P. Pepe, what more do you wanna

A valediction…

At the end of that memorable week it was time for to depart

Valedictory visits were made; time for one final great fart

Kind words were well-spoken; gifts were duly exchanged

Kinsmanship firmly was sealed by all of the Clan

But not after we’d been received in most loving audience

By that most senior and distinguished McBastard:

Our dear Mary McLaughlin whose great zest for life

Should be a lesson for all those who seek life’s lessons to learn

No gentler soul was ever among us, nor indeed a more garrulous girl

A fine cup-bearer as well, as we all sat down

To sip from the cuaigh and share that water of life

One last fruity surprise though for us she yet had in store

When for Basil a sweet yellow banana was finally found

In Sticky McB’s fruit basket; another circle that had come round

Here’s to Sticky McB, may you thrive, may you prosper

Both in health and in years, to be kept in our minds

Please share our present and also our future

God bless you dear lassie as well as our pints!

A new arrival…

It so happened one year, another Crop at an end

That Humphrey took Fat Ankles, his common law wife

To the glens and lochs of the Highlands for a bit of a leisurely fling

Was he gardnering his seeds of joy only to reap the joy of his seed

Tossing his caber or bagging his Munroes; who is to tell?

Truth is that after a wee while Fat Ankles started to swell in all the obvious places

So both she and the word quickly got round

That the fruit of their labour had not been lost to the world

Born was a bastard bonny bairn and who are we to put them to shame?

When we as pure-bred McBastards would have done just the same

Noah Kai Gardner we welcome you to our Clan

Be worthy of us all; may we live to see you as a man

Her’s to that bastard wee boy; let’s now cherish and hug

So I can cut short my crap and have his dad fill my cup!

the bard’s dedication…

Sadder and wiser I’ve come to the end of my tale

I bid you adieu and will resort to my ale

Love it or loathe it, it’s only doggerel verse

A balladmonger’s life: is it blessing or curse?

May you revel forever in your dubious delights

Find peace in your hearts in those booze-ridden nights

Here’s to the McBastards from both far and wide;

Don’t beat them but join them and love’s on your side.

As are other things too which I will not relate

Lest I should hazard my precarious fate

And should you fools think I wasn’t always polite

You’d better stuff it, I care not a shite!

On Scoffer’s wedding

Nothing is spared the McBastards in these troubled times

When yet another member has blindly bitten

The dolorous dust of rueful respectability,

Thus leaving the ranks of our decades of decadence

Only to join the file of all those victims to virtue.

Almost too tall an order it was to be commissioned to concoct

A send-off from single life for this scion of Somerset

That would do justice to both all those present

At this outlandish occasion and that most hilarious history

Of this loyal McBastard who never was second to none

In all those dubious ways we so lovingly cherish and treasure.

Today my lips must needs remain sealed –though sadly so-

On his fabulous feats, those wild wicked ways,

Few of which fair, fortunately most of them foul

No vulgar verse, shabby songs, dirty ditties, my true stock in trade,

There being other more fitting venues for those,

To wit that fairest of festivals we all hold so dear.

Married with children, his wild oats have now surely been sown

All properly wedded and bedded, this stag has been shorn

I do know that sounds silly, but what do I care

With a good wife and three brats your worries are rare.

We warmly welcome you all into the fine fold of our clan

So we can teach you our mores and our manners as best as we can

To become true McBastards, and thus grace our motley crew

Here is to Scoffer and Karin his sweetheart, his darling dear wife

To Ben, Joshua and Georgia, let’s now celebrate life

Raise all your cups, don’t spill a drop on the floor

Four final HAILS to them all and I’ll say no more!

HAIL (4X)

Quaint Cowpat memories

’t Was down by the Cherwell as I sat on my favourite cowpat

When whom should I espy but that brave bunch of McB’s

Merrily mingling their food, friendship and booze

Indeed a most colourful crowd all out on the loose

Oh, my fellow McB’s, how I do hold you all dear

With your lumps and bumps in all the right places

Though, over the years, in different places indeed, that much is clear!

For decades now, McB’s from far and wide across the land

Have put up with each other wherever they went:

From Assen to Oban (Hail!)

Barcelona to Barnstones (Hail!)

From the Craggan to Cropredy (Hail!)

San Francisco to Somerset (Hail!)

Yes, they´ve gone truly global indeed!

VD – though still sadly missed – has gone even ballistic

Riding the skies and the heavens in his Thunderbird 2

Chasing pretty angels in his hunt for clan members new

´t Is true, life´s waged his little wars on all of us here

Leaving the odd bits of shrapnel in body or mind

But as always, however, McB´s proved the sturdier kind

For the Bard a year and a decade was shared with you lot

..... or suffered, on that I´m still at a loss

But then, who wouldn´t want to bear such a light cross

When one´s destiny is not Calvary but Cropredy fair

McB´s rejoice and make merry and hay while you still can

Take true pride in your Clan, child, woman and man

And above all in that most ill-famed of McBastards: your Bard

For giving you the benefit of yet another fucking fine fart!

On Dave No-Hair No-Teeth’s 50^th

From the festering peat-bog where I meet my muse

Have risen once more the foul fumes of my inspiration

Some awfully dreadful verse, scathing and sordid

Is upon you now, so shudder and listen to these lyrics so lurid and loathsome

Little by little that privilege of us fifty-year-olds

Is up for grabs, sadly infringed on; indeed it’s a fucking disgrace

To have to concede the riff-raff to our respectable ranks

Still we must make an exception to yet another survivor who has made the grade

To join the rank and file of us fifty-year-old farts

Ah, bless this bumming old little blighter, this boozy old barfly

Who brings to his credit yeras of hard-earned experience

As a begetter of cream-cakes, as a sovereign smoker of spliffs

Indeed, little innocence there has gone by the board all those years

Yes, the Bard’s truly merry you’ve made it so far

Though indeed, ‘t was really a rough ride at times

Fair was the price that had to be paid with bits left behind

As hairs and teeth too were shed in life’s fray

Still, it does save you from fretting about turning grey

We are happy enough to make do with what’s left of you now

You may have lost your fangs but not yet your bite

So please join this congregation of gibbering geriatrics

And don’t take offence at the Bard’s pile of shite

Pay heed to my maxim, indeed, remember it well

Do not regret those bits of your body that by the wayside fell

As long as there’s a willy, there’s always a will

Slippery though it may be, however stale it may smell

Let us all drink to the health of this crusty pastie from Cornwall

Who’s driven all the highways and byways of life

As well as indeed last year those in the Duchy

Where the Bard and his Basil joined him and his Mum

In a splendid grand tour so dearly remembered

Dave No-Hair No-Teeth, we treasure and cherish you still

And even more so now you’re over the hill

It is therefore with great pleasure that the Bard and his spouse

Proudly present you with this most precious of gifts

A follow-up course book to become an even better McBastard

So if ever again you should have behaved most abominably

You safely can say ‘t was at least learned from a book and get away with it all

And since hugging the wheel is your true expertise

Here’s a much coveted vehicle: the ultimate VandenB’s Van

The magic McBastard Bus, let’s all now go for that ride

Into that glorious sunset that forever may last

Of the McBastard spirit which is our future and past

I’ll leave you all to it now, the Bard’s paid his dues

And should you wish to repay him, let him share some of your booze