Thursday, 31 October 2013

If ever there was a just case for blowback the antics of the Energy Six is such a one!

By Stanley Collymore

You plainly don’t care, do you? And realistically why should any
intelligent person choose to imagine that there’ll be any concern
on your part for the financial woes of your customers which
you’ve premeditatedly, gratuitously and greedily created
and lumbered them with because you clearly knew
from the start that you could get away with
doing so; obviously seeing these faceless people, whom you
provide gas and electricity to, solely as profitable milch
cows and nothing more, to be loathsomely fleeced
in the onward, abhorrent and avaricious march
of your ungovernable and unaccountable
pursuit of ever escalating personal
and corporate aggrandisement?

Vulnerable people like old-aged pensioners, single
mothers and the unemployed with no effective
or genuine alternatives to turn to or replace
you with, since everyone, except the
utterly credulous, fatuous or totally brain dead knows
full well that with the covert and keen approval of
Ofgem: the fancifully misnomer named energy
regulator, which is anything but a credible
watchdog; the government, influential MPs
and House of Lords lawmakers, all of whom are
themselves venally, deeply, willingly and corruptly
either implicated themselves in consultancy roles
with you or else deeply embedded in your huge
and limitless financial pockets and therefore
deliberately turn a Nelsonian eye out of
their own financial interests to what
you’re doing, that no one in power
will do anything to rein in and
ultimately eradicate this
travesty of justice that’s
being inflicted on the
British people.

Instead what we witness them all repeatedly and cynically
doing is mouthing well rehearsed and totally meaningless
platitudes of contrived outrage, the hot air emanating
from which if skilfully harnessed would instantly
solve all our energy problems well into the future. But other
than uttering populous words and phrases exclusively for
public consumption and to take away the incandescent
heat of a justifiably irate public from their singed
asses, the powers that be: because they too are
deeply involved in this criminality from which they’re
also handsomely profiting, will not seriously essay
to let alone effectively retrench the all-pervasive,
insidious and damnable perniciousness of the
energy utility companies that operate in
the UK, and which indisputably are now
the primary contributors, even more
so than the banks, to the perpetual
hardships that the vast majority
of us are unconscionably
and quite indefensibly
being subjected to.

EDF, SSE, Scottish Power, British Gas, Eon and N-Power:
a powerful cartel of criminal elites, whose names and
crimes should be inscribed forever in a prominent
Rogues Gallery for all to see along with those
of their craven Chief Executives; the latter
though brazenly arrogant to the core and with a robust
disdain for the British public generally nevertheless
like the bullying yet cowardly bastards that they
are were evidently too shit scared to appear in
person before a House of Commons Select
Committee to face the music they’ve consciously orchestrated,
far less explain and justify, because they knew they couldn’t,
their exorbitant price hikes that are well above the average
national rate of inflation when everyday wages are also
in relative terms drastically falling for everyone else
but them, or disclose what they actually fork out
for the gas, would you credit it, that lacking all
measures of transparency that one can logically
think of and is hardly conducive to any kind
of competitive environment or ethical
state of affairs if you ask me, they
monopolistically purchase from
and then sell to each other.

Leaving that demeaning chore, as they saw it, with its
associated insult to a long suffering and enormously
ripped off British public of not actually attending
in person that House of Commons Select
Committee hearing to their identically PR coached
lackeys to obsequiously, and all too eagerly but
unconvincingly, do their dirty work for them;
while most of our nation, utterly confused
by it all, helplessly stand by and watch.

The monstrously inflated gas and electricity prices that the
UK’s public are currently being subjected to we’re told
by a complicit and far from trustworthy corporate
media will be a vicious battleground come the
2015 British general elections with the various political
parties intent on using this public grievance as their
standard bearer and rallying call for support from
the electorate. That will certainly be the case,
I suspect, and specifically so for their
self-centred and political ends juxtaposed with a generous
helping of public posturing and political theatre. But
if you believe any of the crap they’ll be copiously
spewing out between now and the elections or
more ludicrous still think that they have your
true interests and general welfare at heart
vis-à-vis those of their beloved Energy
Six then God help you; for you’re
without doubt, in my honest
opinion, in desperate need
of urgent psychiatric

© Stanley V. Collymore
31 October 2013.


This poem was written from the collation of several personal and horrific experiences I’ve encountered at the hands of the Energy Six or personally know about and have recorded, and of the kind which many of you have also and for far too long been forced to endure; and I stand by every word I’ve written. So if those mentioned or involved, proverbially if the cap fits pull the string, who don’t like how they’re justly characterized here then they’re most welcomed from my perspective to prosecute or sue me. As neither prospect scares nor will ever induce me on these pages of mine or in court into retracting an iota of what I’ve said!

Saturday, 26 October 2013

Eat your heart out!

By Stanley Collymore

Why can’t you leave well alone and stop sticking your
oar unwarrantedly and unwelcomed into what
frankly doesn’t concern you? Don’t you
think you’ve caused enough trouble
already as it is; and what makes
you think that your belligerent and unwanted
interference in a private affair, which to
be quite honest with you is none of
your business, is going to help
matters in any way? Because it won’t I assure
you, as I’ve heard it all before and I don’t
give a damn what you or others think
or say as what you’re indulging in
is both utterly senseless and
also downright irrational.

You’re my sister not my keeper, and as a responsible
adult I’ve a specific duty to myself to individually
choose how I legally want to live my own life
as well as ultimately determine what’s best
for me; and not be forced, whether out
of societal pressure, sibling coercion
or the undue influences of others
into subverting those inalienable
rights which I’m entitled to, to
the capricious or, worst still,
the perverse demands of
people who might very
well be complete
strangers to

Far less so have these rights summarily hijacked by a
scheming sister for the gratuitous satisfaction and
the sole purpose of her utterly selfish and biased
agenda, and who I categorically know that
while unasked nevertheless wastes no
opportunity that she can grab for herself
to tell anyone who’ll bother to listen
to her that her life is her own and
she’ll do with it as she damn
well pleases, still thinks
that she has a right to
control my life.

And to be fair to you Sis you’ve lived your life as you
pleased and effectively done so every since you
were a teenager. So what’s the difference
then between your right to choose who you want to
share your life with, and moreover do so without
your countenancing let alone tolerating any
criticism or input of whatever kind or
however beneficial it might be to
you from any source, and my
earnestly wishing to do
the same things too
with my life?

Except, of course, that while you’re ecstatically happy to
shack up with someone of your own race and unmarried
have his kids, you nevertheless in your sick mind
consider it rather infra dig for me to marry the
Blackman I very much love and who I know
genuinely and respectfully reciprocates
that love; and furthermore intend to
have lawfully conceived, born,
properly raised and immensely loved
children by him; which is a darn sight
more than can be said for the feral
and pallid bastards, in every
sense of the word, that
you’ve produced.

© Stanley V. Collymore
26 October 2013.


On the 25 January 1964 a baby girl was born at a hospital in the North Riding of Yorkshire England to a maxed race couple. The black father was from Barbados and the white mother from Yorkshire and they had both met while they were student nurses at a major psychiatric hospital in the North Riding.

Both parents were 19 at the time and the young woman’s pregnancy caused quite a stir among the hospital’s administrators and even some of the white female nurses that were themselves routinely sleeping with the small number of black male nurses: the complement of black nurses, male as well as female, at the hospital in question was very small in any case; however this pregnant young lady was upbraided by her colleagues and superiors, at a time when the pill was unheard of and other forms of contraception were haphazard to say the least, not for having sex with a black man which they said she should have done covertly and was always deniable if openly challenged as many of the others were doing but because she had got herself pregnant which was a fait accompli.

On being told of her condition from the outset the child’s father offered marriage and although he had not yet reached the age of 21, the legal age of majority then, his parents not desirous of their son having an out of wedlock child, a sentiment shared by his grandparents and other close relatives but also happy about his relationship, since they were totally convinced that the young man genuinely loved this girl having communicated his feelings for her to them all, were very much in favour of his marrying the girl and happily and unanimously granted their consent. However the girl’s parents refused all such overtures and demanded that their daughter have an abortion, which then was illegal under any circumstance. The girl refused and decided to have her baby.

Already forced to give up her nursing job she was admitted to a home for unmarried mothers which were themselves quite replete in England at the time where she stayed until the delivery of her child at a neighbouring maternity hospital on the 25 January 1964. Still together despite the ostracism they’d been subjected to the father was at the birth, something quite usual now and certainly so then and probably only occurred because the matron of that hospital was herself Black and empathized with their plight.

It had been agreed from the outset of the young lady’s pregnancy, a suggestion made by the woman’s black partner and would-be husband, that whether or not her parents allowed them to be married he very much intended that their child be officially registered in his name. This happened with him even with the mother’s voluntary permission as well allowing him when he went to the local registry office to give the baby girl the names they’d both agreed on.

Unwilling to have her back home this young mother had to make do with returning to the home for unmarried mothers and when it was suggested and mutually agreed by the child’s father, his parents and even relatives in Barbados to have the baby entrusted to the care of his paternal biological relatives, the girl’s parents who didn’t want her home because of the shame they perceived she’d brought to their all-white community in Yorkshire, stepped in and blocked this agreement.

Instead they suggested that the baby girl should be adopted or else failing that fostered by a white couple. At the home for unmarried mothers where all this was taking place the young mother was again subjected to endemic racism not only from the home’s warden, who told her that she should eschew marrying any Blackman since no matter how civilized they appear to be they were in actuality not so; and not having been to the West Indies herself, much less so Barbados voiced the opinion that a white woman, regardless of who she was, was a feather in a black man’s cap in these overseas countries, but also the all-white complement of unmarried mothers there whose children, or as yet unborn ones, were for the most part as a direct consequence of affairs that these young women had with married men still very much committed to their wives and the families from them, whether or they unwittingly knew in some of these instances that they were fathering kids they didn’t sire. As such these unmarried mothers views were the same as everyone one else; clandestinely sleeping with a Blackman was fine, getting pregnant by him in a love relationship, which in their opinion should never have taken place, was unforgivable!

Unable to exercise any legal force in the matter because he wasn’t married to this young mother, her parents still holding out against this, and his parents and relatives though keen to have the baby to raise and bring up as their own, and everyone fully cognisant that the courts would not rule in the father’s favour  the father and his relatives accepted the inevitability; that while the girl’s parents didn’t want to have the child themselves they would dog in the major style do everything they could to stymie the father and his family from having the little girl. And they did!

Eventually the little girl was placed with white foster parents that told the father when he asked to be allowed to visit her that his presence would upset her as she had only seen white people around her and the presence of a black man, even someone who was her father, would be upsetting to her. As a condition of being allowed back home the young mother had been forced to consent to this state of affairs which obviously put a strain on her relationship with the child’s father; all the more so because her own parents were doing their very best to get her married off to any white man that would have her.

The child’s father meanwhile financially carried on supporting his child and eventually the child’s mother was allowed to resume her nursing training at another Yorkshire hospital. But the relationship between the two parents had become strained not least because the Barbadian male proud of his ancestry and lineage wasn’t prepared to compromise either for the sake of white acceptance. Sometime later he got word that his girlfriend had met and was about to marry a white man who was in the British Army. Born in Britain himself his parents and lineage weren’t English but he was white and acceptable.

Married, the little girl was ultimately allowed to go to the home of her maternal grandparents who told everyone that she was Portuguese, even though she had no such lineage, and that they were fostering her; but even the girl herself was told this. Uncaring at first about his wife having had a child by a Black man it was a case of out of sight and out of mind. However when he was unable to produce one of his own things changed and deep resentment set in. The girl, who had earlier been allowed to stay with her mother and him for economic reasons, child benefit and an army house, suddenly became a target of his abuse.

Shut out of his child’s life the biological father still refused to give up and since the other side wasn’t going to relent decided that he would wait until the girl in question was 21 and contact her personally. Which he managed to do, only to discover that she had been trying to do the same herself going by the details of him and her on her birth certificate but to no avail. That meeting happened in 1985.

The story this young woman had to tell was quite traumatic, including how she’d been kicked out of the home she shared with mother and stepfather when she was 16 and literally lived rough. Soon after that she fell in love with someone she met, who was white, said he loved her and got her pregnant but when she related her condition to him he simply deserted her.

Left to bring up a child on her own she got no moral or physical support from her mother, who desperately trying to salvage a marriage that was seriously on the rocks had no time for her daughter or grandchild. Ultimately, or rather inevitably, that marriage collapsed, she got a divorce and quickly went into another marital relationship with a divorced white man with several children from his former marriage. But the ironic and sad thing is that while this woman was more than happy to fully embrace and welcome these step kids of hers there was still no empathy shared with her own daughter.

Cruelly her own daughter was very much on the outside and when her deserted lover turned up and said he was sorry to have left her and their son she believed him and took him back. Not long after that she was pregnant again, he instantly disappeared once more, and she would be physically and psychologically lumbered with not one but two sons to raise on her own. But there’s a happy ending to this story; for at a time when she wasn’t looking for love and was committed to doing her best for her two boys come what may, a young man of principle met her through these same two lads; took to them, befriended the mother and ultimately persuaded her that he loved her and convinced her that she should trust him.

A most difficult task to accomplish; but through patience, endurance and personal integrity he managed it and they eventually got married and still are. Significantly too, he adopted both boys, encouraged her not to give up the search for her biological father, and with that task achieved, started a family of their own: a daughter to complement the two sons they already have. This remarkable man, incidentally, is white and British, but racism neither from the outset of their relationship nor at any stage throughout it, right up to the present, has never featured in the remotest sense in their beautiful relationship together. And why should it when they both see themselves and each other as worthy human beings?

Regrettably though this is far from the norm in racist Britain where the mantra is that black men are unreliable and make bad parents. It’s a mantra that even several of our successful mixed race English citizens of both genders and of black/white racial lineage actually believe, having been fed the same racist crap by their white mothers. The truth is that no self-respecting black man who is worth his salt is going to stick around with a white women, not even one he freely got married to, that asininely believes that her skin colour, and being regarded as or looked upon by that white clan she still desperately wants to feel a part of, no matter how many insults or acts of ostracism those who’re in it individually or collectively direct at her, is going to put up with that kind of intrinsic racial brainwashing which makes him feel infinitely less than the human being he is. Something that these white women would never subject a white man to.

And it makes no difference whatsoever to this analysis whether that Blackman was the father of Barack Obama, the incumbent President of the USA whose dad was a Kenyan and who couldn’t have married the future Mrs Obama or have children by her had their relationship occurred on mainland USA where she would have been sent to jail and Obama Snr would have ended up on death row for statutory rape for consensually marrying a white woman and conceiving in wedlock a wanted child, circumstances to which no white couple would ever have been subjected to, but where a black man and a white spouse were concerned contravened the Jim Crow and supposedly moral ethics of white America.

In fact these laws didn’t change until long after Barack Obama’s birth, accounting for the fact that his biological parents chose to marry, live in and had him in Hawaii, which although a US colony wasn’t part of the USA. Or to the often enforced and absent fathers of those mixed-raced Britons, many of whose black dads are largely of Caribbean ancestry, who although death row was a punitive legal sanction for the men concerned, every conceivable form of social ostracism was nevertheless directed at them’ and not uncommonly many of the white women involved in such relationship, and who were legally wives whose children by their black husbands had been conceived and delivered in marriage, nevertheless found themselves sectioned to what can best be described as imprisonment in psychiatric hospital for daring to marry a Black man and have children by him.

I’ve personally met several of these unfortunate women within the mental hospitals in which they were often summarily incarcerated and had become institutionalized to, and from whom their children had been arbitrarily and, most ironically in the circumstances bearing in mind it was from perfectly competent, loving and caring, white biological mothers and wives that these mixed race children had been taken from and given to all and sundry but always exclusively to people that were white and total strangers not only to the child involved but also its mother and father for purely financial reasons to look after.

But observing even now in 2013 as I regularly do the perversely cultivated antipathy on the part of some mixed-race individuals in the UK, usually of black lineage, and endemically so among those who’ve made it successfully whether in football, athletics or whatever field of endeavour they’ve embarked on towards members of the black British community generally and Blacks in particular, I must say that their attitude makes me want to puke! Haven’t these white brainwashed clowns and nitwits never heard of the established principal of the survival of the fittest? If not, then I seriously suggest that they do some urgent research and look it up.

For many of their achievement qualities that made them the successes they are, and particularly so among those of Black Caribbean and African-American lineage stems from that same process that by them their derided and ignored black ancestors were forcibly subjected to as a direct result of the barbaric, Transatlantic Slave Trade in Black lives and whose DNA and constructive attributes of survival amply run through every segment of their physiological and psychological makeup, regardless of whether these inane “Coconuts”: evidently brown outside but white on the inside, mixed-raced, wannabe whites acknowledge this fact of life or not!

For all the empirical data to date categorically shows that over 80% of mixed-race children that were born to Black fathers and non-black mothers, particularly in the case of the UK, it’s the fathers, whether they’re present or absent, who’re usually the ones who’re more educationally equipped and creatively gifted, especially if they were born, raised and educated overseas, than their non-white spouses or partners. Qualities which they clearly pass on genetically to, as well as to the overall benefit of their biological, mixed race offspring, whether these progeny accept or ungratefully refuse to acknowledge this.

And my forthright take on this one is, white physician and mixed-race surrogates heal yourself first and foremost before you commence adversely commenting on the perceived ills of black men generally or specifically.

Friday, 25 October 2013

You’re out of control!

By Stanley Collymore

What is it that you really want from me? For you’ve never
said, and having wracked my brains for all it’s worth to
find out I still don’t know nor dare to claim that I
understand. And why these silly games of yours
that you insist on playing, especially since
I’ve made it abundantly clear to you in
words and gestures that I’m no
longer interested in you and
much less so in what you’re up to?
Yet incredibly you persist in
carrying on as though
nothing has

So please take my advice and stop all this nonsense
that you’re indulging in before your behaviour
leads to even greater harm than what it has
already caused; and additionally with the
grave possibility of you even unconsciously,
if you persevere with it, of creating for
yourself an altogether untenable
situation from which you’ll
almost certainly experience
considerable difficulty in freely
extricating yourself; if at all. And frankly,
to sum it all up in a simple and rather
straightforward sentence: “You’re
desperately in need of quite
serious psychiatric help!”

© Stanley V. Collymore
24 October 2013.

Why is it that so many British people evidently lack the courage, mental maturity and even the moral fibre to say when it relates to love or deep personal emotions involving themselves what precisely it is that they expect and genuinely want from such involved relationships; or frankly just aren’t prepared to countenance or permit under any circumstances; generating the needless dysfunctional relationships that several of them put up with and unhappily exist in across every stratum and social class of British society with all their innumerable sociological and financial consequences for society generally and the average hard-pressed taxpayer in particular? Get a life folks! Get out of the morass you’re in and independently chart your own course in life.

Wednesday, 23 October 2013

Targeted Vermin!

By Stanley Collymore

I hated you, not because of anything you’d ever done
to me, anyone I know and care about, what you
stood for, have said or possibly planned on
doing; because the truth is you were a
total stranger to me in every way,
not having ever met you or
even conscious of your
actual existence

But all that was of no consequence, principally because I’m
white, you were not, and your life, comprehensively
inferior to mine and others like me by virtue of
our racial superiority over you as white
Caucasians, understandably from
the perspective of like-minded
members of the Master Race
like me, was logically seen as totally
dispensable and, not to put too fine
a point on it, no loss at all to
mankind which I’ve done
a tremendous favour
by wiping it out.

Your death then should be joyously celebrated and
not commiserated with, far less mourned; and
while I know there are those in this country,
the rest of the EU and elsewhere among
the political and legal authorities in
the civilized and white controlled
world who’ll openly mouth the
predictable platitudes expected
of them as to how dreadful
my murdering you has
been, reality though,
I should tell you,
is completely

For privately and even covertly among themselves
they’ll be wholeheartedly celebrating the demise
of what’s essentially a pretty useless creature;
just one of a horde of subordinate and
uncultivated non-Caucasian brutes, not worthy
of the name human being; and while for obvious
reasons they’ll not personally soil their own
hands with such an undertaking, they’ll
nevertheless from behind the scenes
continue to do everything in their
power to instigate and ensure
that explicitly proud and
white warriors like me
unashamedly do.

© Stanley V. Collymore
23 October 2013.

The gratuitous stabbing to death in the English Midlands City of Birmingham, also the UK’s second major city after London, of Mohammed Saleem, 82, as he walked a few hundred yards from a mosque to his home is a chilling reminder 20 years after Stephen Lawrence’s own murder at the hands of identical white racists of how acute racism, politically and ideologically fanned by those at the very top of British society still is.

For me though, even more disturbing were the comments of the official who officially spoke to the media cameras after the outcome of the case when the murderer, Pavlo Lapshyn, 25 unashamedly pleaded guilty in court to what he’d done having no other choice but to do so confronted as he was with a plethora of evidence that substantiated his crime; nor did he show any remorse whatsoever about his racially motivated criminal actions, which didn’t just include the killing of Mr Mohammed Saleem a mere five days after Pavlo Lapshyn had been allowed into England for the very first time.

This British official having spoken in glowing terms about Lapshyn’s academic prowess and so-called intelligence then in marked contrast uttered, almost as an afterthought, the euphemistic platitude that what this monster, to anyone with an objective and functioning brain in his or her head which clearly this official lacks readily recognized Pavlo Lapshyn as, did was wrong.

“Wrong!” Is this how this fatuous bastard and the white British community generally described the killing of Lee Rigby in Woolwich? No! Then a white man had been killed by non-whites and all the aged-old and reinforced racial stereotypes came out in force and went into overdrive juxtaposed with their attendant venom; and the same would have happened again if instead of being British Asian Mohammed Saleem were white and his killer had been non-Caucasian, with the immigration system being lambasted for letting this killer into England in the first place. Not so with Pavlo Lapshyn however.

Interestingly enough this murderous citizen of Ukraine, which isn’t a member of the EU by the way and which belies all the hypocritical and racist immigration crap of the likes of Theresa May, the British Home Secretary, the Con-Dem British regime of which she’s a prominent member, and the opposition parties in both houses of parliament that tacitly support this racist agenda.

Even though it must be stressed that key members in all these parties don’t have any authentic British lineage, are shacked up with, even those born here, with spouses or partners that weren’t even born in the UK and, of course, have among themselves produced children who they see as inalienably British and moreover with all the privileges and entitlements they perceive that they’re exclusively entitled to.

So we have a sickening situation where a self-confessed racist and white supremacist who is Ukrainian is freely allowed into the UK in a way that a bright, intelligent and law-abiding non-white individual of either gender from the Commonwealth or any part of the Global South, for that matter, that Britain has individually plundered for centuries, and still recurrently does, to enrich itself and mostly its white elites, wouldn’t in a month of Sundays be allowed to.

But this wouldn’t be the first time that a British regime and authorities colluded in this kind of terroristic scenario with Ukrainians. The Clement Attlee, post-war UK regime sycophantically at the behest of the USA that would never have allowed such psychopathic and murderous thugs and furthermore do so in such huge numbers into its own territories, warmly welcomed into the UK after the defeat of Germany thousands of Ukrainian Waffen SS members and death camp operatives and liberally housed them and their families here in Britain.

And most ironically their Slavic progeny are the very ones with UK regime support embodied in the likes of utterly moronic clowns like Eric Pickles who routinely and ludicrously charge around Britain, but mostly England, fomenting racial strife as well as hatred and discord against anyone who doesn’t look like them, while absurdly as well claiming to be the English Defence League. Not English as in terms of nationality, being physically born in England as it were, but English they asininely assert through Anglo-Saxon lineage. A monumental misnomer if ever there was one, and which makes me and Eskimo I suppose. I hope you’re proud of yourselves Theresa May and Co; what a pity that Maggie Thatcher closed so many of our mental hospitals; for the likes of you are prime candidates, in my view, for compulsory sectioning under NHS guidelines.

Tuesday, 22 October 2013

Nothing ventured; well you know the rest of it!

By Stanley Collymore

Forgive me, but could I be impertinent and ask you a
personal favour? I imagine that your mother must
have warned you when you were a girl growing
up not to talk to men who are strangers to you,
but I swear I wouldn’t have approached
you in this direct manner if I didn’t need to.
My problem is that I’m petrified of flying,
and since there’s no other practical way
of getting to Barbados except than
by flying there you can see
the predicament that
I’m currently in.

Colleagues and even friends of mine have told
me I should take a couple of strong alcoholic
drinks before take-off and that would calm
my nerves, but I’m a teetotaller, have
been all my life, and don’t know
which is worst: the fear of flying or
the after effects of consuming
alcoholic beverages that
I’m obviously not
accustomed to.

So will you be a pal, and as our seats are next
to each other, I wasn’t eavesdropping but
overheard your conversation with
the check-in clerk, let me hold on to you for
reassurance during take-off and until the
aircraft is safely in the air and the pilot
has charted its course successfully,
allowing me the opportunity to
chart mine with you?

© Stanley V. Collymore
20 October 2013.

Die Erlaeurterung:
Fuer meine Freundin Kerstin Lorenz aus Hessen; zum Gedenken an unsere unvergesslichen Ferien in der Karibik: 30 September bis 28 Oktober 1999, und fuer gebend auf unsere Nacht-Ruckreise nach Deutschland eine unverwechselbare einzigartige Auslegung von was in fliegend den Buchstabe „f“ tatsaeschlich steht fuer. Der Spass! Was sonsts nocht? Ihr Menschen mit einer schmutzigen Fantasie! (Lachen). Danke mein Schaetzchen; Du bist prima! Besonders seit von Anfang an wusstest du, dass ich keine Angst vor fliegend hatte. Herzlichen Glueckwunsch zum vierzehnten Jahrestag! Bis bald.

English Translation:
For my friend Kerstin Lorenz from Hesse in commemoration of our memorable vacation in the Caribbean: 30 September to 28 October 1999, and for giving a distinctively unique interpretation on our night return to Germany of what the “f” in flying actually stands for. Fun! What else you filthy-minded so and soes? Thanks Love; you’re terrific! Especially since you knew from the outset that I have no fear of flying. Happy 14th Anniversary. See

Monday, 21 October 2013

Loving you doesn’t necessarily mean that I also like you!

By Stanley Collymore

Alright, so I’m in love with you; but to be equally honest I don’t
particularly like you. For what I emotionally and, I must also
stress, involuntarily feel for you and categorize as love I
have no control over and am simply a vulnerable hostage
to it, even though I’ve repeatedly done my level best
to rein in and sought with the utmost earnestness
to permanently put an end to this intolerable
situation that I find myself in, albeit and
regrettably I must concede having been
exceptionally unsuccessful so far
in that specific endeavour.

In marked contrast were I to like you that state of affairs
would of itself be an entirely different ball game, the
rules of which are pretty straightforward and very
unlikely, if ever, to be either influenced or even
skewed by largely irrational and quite often
inexplicable emotions that in the case of love,
customarily as well as infuriatingly, have the habit
of getting in the way of logical decision-making.
As a result the level playing field that would
accordingly result from this discerning
approach to evaluating matters of
the mind through liking someone
encouragingly then becomes
a much more realistic and
sensible way of actually
dealing with affairs
of the heart.

That unfortunately isn’t a credible scenario where
you and I are concerned, and therefore I’d like to
suggest that we both, out of a deserved integrity
to ourselves as individual human beings if not
from any sense of duty or common decency
to all those who’ve not only plausibly fallen
in love but also genuinely like the person to
whom that love is freely entrusted, do the
proper thing and permanently dispense
with this farce of a relationship that
maintains its stranglehold on me,
and which sensibly and with
hindsight, from both our
true perspectives, we
should never have
embarked on
in the first

© Stanley V. Collymore
20 October 2013.

Self-delusion is a recurrent theme that pervasively runs through many dysfunctional relationships allegedly and, more often than not, entered into on the basis of love. Each to their own I say but I’d much prefer to know that I actually like someone and that that liking is genuinely reciprocated, rather than fatuously or even consciously subduing myself and de facto my innermost feelings to the often senseless vagaries of supposed love.

That’s my personal pitch and I’m resolutely sticking with it; you too have the inalienable and democratic right to do the same or else choose to flounder in the morass of unrequited love or embed yourselves in deeply impaired emotional liaisons. It’s your call; and whether that decision is the epitome of sagacity or clearly the outcome of abysmal stupidity, while legitimately opening itself up to approval or criticism it should nevertheless be firmly respected.

Friday, 18 October 2013

I’ll do anything it takes to socially survive!

By Stanley Collymore

Why didn’t you tell me that practically everyone knows
we’re having an affair and that you’ve been aware of
this for some time and have kept it from me? Do
you know how that makes me feel? Well, I’ll
tell you! I’m absolutely horrified. I am,
after all, a married woman with a family.
Just imagine what this revelation will
do to my reputation? And I do
dread to think what my husband
will do should he ever find
out; that’s providing
of course that he
hasn’t already
done so.

Then there are my children subjected as they no doubt
will be to the cruel taunts of their classmates. How
totally insufferable for them! And as if that’s
not bad enough I’ll now possibly have to
remove them from their private school
and humiliatingly send them to a
state one; and this after I’ve gone to
such lengths to get them into
the expensive private one
they’re currently

They’ll be utterly devastated if it comes to that,
as this was their main chance in life, even
if it meant their dad and me having to
pay through the nose to do so, for them to get a
decent education, good prospects jobwise as
well as a financially secure future, and not
have to rub shoulders out of necessity
with the growing number of Plebs
this country seems hell-bent on
producing or even worst still
the alarming hordes of
scrounging immigrants
whom we keep
letting into

To say I’m furious with you is an understatement as you
faithfully promised me you’d be discreet; that no one
would ever know about us, just as you willingly
accepted my terms that our affair was simply
going to be a matter of reciprocal and
harmless fun between us with no
strings attached and providing us with the
respective excitement we both craved; in your case
rewarding your insatiable Lotharion propensity
to bed every available female you can and
on my part to use that same titillating
fondness of yours to gratify the carnal
desires you so easily awoke and
sustainably aroused in me and
which my husband doesn’t
and has never been
able to satisfy.

Now this; and all because you couldn’t keep your
mouth shut! For having ridiculously persuaded
yourself that you’ve falling in love with me
and delusionally convinced yourself as
well that I would reciprocate that
love you’ve taken to selectively letting others know that
we’re having an affair. Well I’ve news for you, that
affair is now over! What’s more I’ll passionately
and persuasively lie to my husband, close friends,
work colleagues and everyone concerned, if
I have to, that you’re a fantasist looking
for the main chance, and with your known
sleazy reputation and lack of breeding
who do you think they’ll believe?
A working class, lascivious
loser like yourself or me
with my key social

© Stanley V. Collymore
18 October 2013.

This hypothetically stated scenario is in reality, one way or another let’s be perfectly honest about it, replete across the country either in terms where the individual reading about it is personally involved or at the very least knows someone that is. However, judgmental analysis aside by those who’re into that sort of thing, it’s none the less what keeps our society interestingly if at the same time hypocritically sane, or at any rate thereabouts!

Monday, 14 October 2013

You’re bewitchingly sensual!

By Stanley Collymore

God! If I'd known you were so hot I possibly wouldn’t have spoken
to you in the first place and most likely as well would have been
too petrified to have you touch me. But having allowed both
of these things to happen, and bearing in mind what
subsequently occurred, I honestly don’t regret
for a single moment that I did. For you
certainly and most commandingly,
I’m happy to say, know exactly
how to make me feel that
extra special and what’s
more completely
irresistible as
a woman.

How did you manage it, would you care to tell? Doing so as
it happens without any prompting from me or queries on
your part as to what my innermost needs were, even to
the extent of deciphering and exploring my most
secretive sexual predilections. And boy did you
satisfy them all, and how; as well you know! As
likewise I’m sure you’re also fully aware that the
quite graphic recollections of your thoroughly
masculine, torrid and coital display, which
you so consummately and dexterously
executed and I for my part have in
the process most pleasurably
discharged in a powerful
tsunami of erotic responses,
still have me agog and
desirous for more
of the same.

Triggering, too, emboldeningly vivid and utterly gripping
remembrances that energetically unleash and sustainably
send incredibly, pleasurable shock waves of eroticism
through crucial areas of my body causing that entire
edifice to go into a violent quiver; uncontrollably
make me go totally weak at the knees; and in
a thrilling and reciprocal empathy with the
thoughts expressively surging through
my head in response to each fervid
reminiscence that lasciviously
assails it makes me want to
have you all the more.

In truth, though, I’m inwardly glad and deeply flattered
that you haven’t disclosed to me just how it was that
you successfully sussed me out and most crucially
discovered so accurately what it was that I
earnestly wanted you to do to me, as that most likely
would predictably have spoilt some of the amazing
fun which I’m unquestionably having by being
with you, although in no way, I hasten to
add and solemnly promise you, ever
likely to dampen the intensive
ardour and huge craving
that I have for you.

How thoughtful of you then, meticulously taking
into full consideration the various circumstances
we’re jointly and intimately cognisant of, to
mindfully stimulate and, prodigiously too,
enhance my insatiable hunger for you,
engendering in me my innermost
gratitude for everything you’re
brilliantly doing, with the
firm pledge never to
intentionally let
you down!

© Stanley V. Collymore
14 October 2013.

This poem was specifically composed and written with Jennifer W. of Newgate, London in mind in special commemoration of your recent birthday on the 11th October 2013, our quite auspicious first encounter with each other on the Blackfriars tube on the 20th March 1987 that culminated in a spontaneous but highly memorable trip to Reading later on that day complemented by 26 years of undiluted friendship and mutual respect for each other. Thanks for the memories and the compliments!

Thursday, 10 October 2013


By Stanley Collymore

What kind of a world are we living in when so many of
you either simply stand idly by and watch or, worse
still, unthinkingly or even willingly participate as
part of a system where rank stupidity
masquerading as intelligence,
rapacious greed compounded by a total indifference
to the real needs and aspirations of the genuinely
unfortunate: those deliberately left behind or
else completely ignored because they’re
considered to be of the wrong colour
or social class, is regarded as
okay and even fulsomely
celebrated as though these callous activities
are major constructive achievements to
be positively aspired to, unashamedly
paraded as successes and, what’s
more, justly commemorated?

A world where the filthy rich, no matter how illegally
or immorally that wealth is acquired, literally call
the shots and with absolute impunity and
unchallenged immunity liberally
accorded to them by all concerned but most
particularly by those who’re legally and
constitutionally charged with safeguarding and ensuring
the fundamental rights not just of the privileged few but
all of us, notwithstanding that though, nevertheless
still feel they can act, and invariably do as they
jolly well please; never mind the adverse
consequences that their selfish and
premeditated actions might have
and, as all reliable indicators
suggest, generally and
insufferably inflict
on all others.

A world, too, where the possession of money and even
the wanton abuse of it is considered to be cool, where
morality is what you can cynically and arrogantly
get away with, and if caught out can summarily
resort to employing and efficiently utilizing
the services of a fawning and obliging
media so as to give a Hollywood, Oscar
performance style, fake mea culpa professionally
served up on air and at prime time too to a markedly
brainwashed and intentionally poorly informed,
captive TV audience unquestioning of all
things that require even a modicum of
brainpower, yet both willing and
quite prepared to believe
everything that is
told to it.

Is this then the definitive world of contemporary humanity that
you really want to congratulate yourselves on having created,
where after many millennia of mettlesome evolution, that
unfortunately led to you, this is the very best that your
collective efforts can come up with, while at the
same time you conceitedly delude yourselves
that it’s all a fitting legacy to pass on to
succeeding generations, privileged no
doubt to be so honoured you flatter
yourselves, to appreciatively
emulate and naturally
build upon?

Well I thoroughly disagree! And even if I were to find myself
in a minority of one over this matter it still wouldn’t make
any difference at all to how I really feel. For how can a
nation where the standards of literacy, numeracy and
coherent communication are abysmally poor; where
these crucial skills have quite literally bypassed a
quarter of those within our population who’re
under the age of 50, yet live in a country
that prides itself on exceptionalism
in many fields of endeavour are
quite embarrassingly on an
intellectual parity with
the least bright of
our 10 year

Leading to a situation where it’s now generally
although embarrassingly recognized if not
welcomingly accepted by a majority
of Britons that older people and more
especially grandparents can spell and add
up infinitely better than their children
and grandchildren can; and, quite
ominously as well, there are no
discernable signs on the
basis of empirical research
that’s been carried out
of this alarming trend
being forcefully
reined in and
reversed at

So do us all a great big favour folks and stop deceiving
yourselves that you have a legacy worthy to pass on
to anyone and for which future generations will
obligingly thank you for. You don’t! For you’ve
neither the perspicacity nor the intellectual
acumen required to embark, as things
stand, on such a fundamental and
obviously life-changing enterprise much
less the ability to pull it off successfully.
Those of us who ruefully are your
contemporaries already know
that well enough and it’s
a safe bet too that our discerning
descendants, much more astute
than you patronizingly deign
to give them credit for,
will likewise reach
the same logical

© Stanley V. Collymore
9 October 2013.

This poem was prompted by the alarming, spiralling out of control, and mindless sycophancy urged, fostered and minutely manipulated for and at the behest of a small coterie of privileged and affluent control freaks with a discernible penchant for venal and criminal pursuits and who actually run our country, of what are fundamentally worthless, yet compulsively arrogant with it fatuous jobsworths who on an almost daily basis and with quite sickening regularity I unhappily come across during my travels throughout this questionably green and pleasant land that we call England.

And it’s written in grateful appreciation for amply providing me with more crucial raw material than I could ever have previously imagined or hoped for, to: Ann Smith, Reading Central Library, Berkshire; Lesley Sim, Head of West Sussex Library Services; Dave Loveman of West Sussex County Council; Tim Stanton and several colleagues of his at Crawley Library, and many others too numerous to cite here but whose invaluable contribution has made this poem possible. Thank you all.