Poetry Bus Update: Signs

And finally the bus rolls into the station ready for the contenders to climb on board.

A few of you have been extra keen to travel and seem to have dodged past the conductor, so here's where he catches up and prints your tickets.

As you may remember I set you all the task of rehabilitating road (or any other) signs that were just lounging about doing nothing. You could either:

1) Follow the sign and write something you saw at the other end
2) Merely imagine what might be at the other end and write about that
3) Find a new use for the word on the sign to explain something that currently has no word

My first effort this week focusses on option 3 - entries to the Poetry Bus will be labelled below my pome and any further entries please leave responses here. Thanks for playing

Scunthorpe (vb)

It's the last sausage roll at the party
The quiche slice that never got et
It's the bread roll that lost half its contents
It's the salad all soggy and wet

It's the white sauce that stuck to the ceiling
The pastry that needed a saw
The cheese on a stick that went mouldy
The breadstick that's been on the floor

It's the food that is so un-appealing
That no matter how desperate you are
The only option left to you
Is to crush it to death with your car

So there you are - a Scunthorpe is now officially "unappetising food left uneaten on the plate"

My second effort is the first option - because I have actually been to the location some years ago, but never inside - and nor have I gone on The Smiths Cycling Tour Of Manchester (it may not even be running anymore).



For those of you who are unfamiliar with british TV and music there is a long-running soap opera called Coronation Street, which is set in Manchester. However there is only one actual Coronation Street in Manchester, in Salford which is mainly the backs of other buildings - aside from one building at the end where The Smiths posed for one of their album photos. (NB - the man in the photo is a certain Stephen Morrissey, re-visiting the location some years later)

The Salford Lads Club

Here's to the lads of Salford, Mancs
Where Morrissey, Rourke and Mke Joyce
Stood on the empty Coronation St
Outside the only building of choice

I stood by the gates once and noticed
The names of the faithfull were scrawled
Ont peeling and chipped wooden framework
Of the firmly shut Salford Lads doors

Now the bike tours and music move onwards
But the music remains just the same
Did these miserable streets inspire you
Or are they the ones we should blame?

This week's travellers on the Bus were (I will leave replies on all posts sometime on monday and update in the meantime):
A very keen Jeanne Iris who rather wonderfully knows a place called Intercourse
The well-read Jessica Maybury who managed to reference Brett Eaton-Ellis before disappearing

The ever entertaining Total Feckin Eejit who seems to have taken the portentions signs to new levels

Gwei Mui who questioned the nature of home

Weaver Of Grass who found herself going back to nature

Niamh who talked of a town called Adam

Dave King with his stroll through a village through the eyes of two boys

Crazy Field Mouse who went out waving at trains

Jinksy, who went off the beaten track

Rachel Fox, escaping from the rat race

Shipla, and her fellow traveller

Pure Fiction and the big white mouth

Titus The Dog at the Kirkyard

Enchanted Oak and a sign of hope

The Bug getting friendly in a field

Domestic Oubliette with a place to park your behind

Delusions Of Adequacy with some community conscious Banksys?

Karen, with an appointment with a familiar person

Izzy, in danger?

(updates to follow)