People tell me that I'm Bogey but deep down I know I'm not.
The hero will be based upon a dude I call my friend
who drinks Davy's Old Wallop and tells tales that never end.
Wendy is his girlfriend, she will have to play a part
she's so loyal to the dude that it almost breaks my heart.
She'll be Little Miss Fandangle, a proper femme fatale
twittering and texting as the dude is sent to jail
on a corporate manslaughter charge, pointless to contest,
provoking lurid tabloid headlines and industrial unrest.
So, I'm going 'round in circles and I think I've lost the plot,
I know there'll be a villain but it's someone I forgot.
I see the Shadow in the mirror, I hear him on the 'phone
he haunts me in my nightmares he just won't leave me alone.
They couldn't reach a verdict when Alice Lane was killed,
but the Shadow's true identity could never be revealed.
Yes, I'm trying to write a novel and I'm seeking inspiration
a poetic anthropologist on Dagenham Heathway station,
where the walking dead around me are completely unaware.
So I think it's time to move along and visit Russell Square.
Wendy doesn't like it, she says I've lost the plot,
that dreadful Miss Fandangle she most certainly is not.
It caused an edgy atmosphere, she sat there in a mood
as I enjoyed a seventh pint of Wallop with the dude.
Researching and, pontificating in the pub,
an affiliated member of the rags to ruin club.
So, Alice Lane was killed, but, was the dude to blame?
Struggling with the narrative uncertain of my aim.
dragged backwards through the shredder, pilloried and shot.
I'm just trying to write a novel and I think I've lost the plot!
Capability Red March 2017
