Leaders are Losers

Everyone I know is a loser – including my first wife.

My mother, father, sons, daughter, best friend, plus you & everyone you’ve ever met has been a loser

Donald Trump, Joe Biden, Socrates, Abraham, plus every single living thing that ever existed in the history of planet Earth.

If you think I’m over-egging it, you have the right to that opinion. You have the authority to stick to your viewpoint. You have the power to disagree.

I wager I’ll persuade you – (with inductive logic)

Manchester City lost last night. My friend Gearoid Murphy is gutted. Not only did his team lose but he lost his good humour. Last season he was a loser too.

Yesterday, my dog Louis tried to be friendly with an Alsatian. The Alsatian rejected him, Louis was a loser.

Thomas Edison was a loser. Eventually he became a winner. But after that he went back to being a loser.

Since birth, I’ve been a loser. When I was 16, I fancied Brigitte Bardot. I didn’t even make it to the races. I lose almost every time I try.

In case you think you’ve met a winner.


Note: The impulse to write this came after I heard the story of how Donald John Trump has been a loser for years, and, as a consequence, has paid no taxes for years.

My name is Donald Trump


Screen Shot 2019-03-08 at 00.55.41


My name is Donald Trump,
I’m the leader of the band.
I piss, I fart, I shit – I jump.
Sure I know we are all grand.

I’m a man who thrives on basics.
All my hair carefully made.
See these hands forever laid.
Believe me hugher than a Phoenix.

I’m greater than they say,
You want to know my way?
Ever one to steal a deal,
you want to eat my meal?

Build em high, build em strong,
Motherfuckers, bastards, wrong.
Let us send them all back home,
Let us lock them in a SuperDome.

I know you’ll hear my strong decrees.
Let’s see, what only we can see.
Let’s call them out, those Holy Joes,
those PC pussies, I suppose.

We are the Warriors, the Warriors,
no worriers, no foreigners
No losers here.
Lend me your ear

We shall build the tallest tower.
Let’s be rid of all things sour.

Let the judges fear our wrath.
What a shower of lazy suckers.
We will turn their children back.

I am the Lord of Every Deal.
This one deserves a damn good feel.
With me you win, never grow thin.
We’re so righteous, we’ll never sin.

I will make America great
I will make the whole world wait.
We shall be forever tall
when we build that fucking wall.

My name is Donald Trump,
I’m the leader of your band…

Diary note No 8 – Indoors

I’m staying indoors for another day. It’s drizzling damp outside. Again I’m missing my Wednesday morning golf.

My biggest concern is the dog. I won’t give him enough exercise today. If he could speak English, he’d surely complain.

Talking about Trump, talking about McCabe, having in an asynchronistic conversation with my friend Victorious in USA – that’s what I’ve been doing from my armchair.

That led me to contact my sister in Arizona via WhatsApp. I’d like to hear her views.

Thank goodness I’m interested in Brexit, and have Sky News. Political crises are good distractions from the state of my health.

I’m only good for recording audio and I’m dictating this straight into this post.

My especially good friend Eoghan O’Leary has offered to drop in and bring me something I’d like. I’ve asked for a small bunch of sweet black grapes.

The total eclipse of Donald John Trump (work in progress)


He looked directly at the sun
and the sun shone back.
He felt the smile flood his Queen’s eyes,
stretch ruddy pink skin,
the slightest suggestion of dimples.

The sun god Ra rose from the bed
A fire in Ra’s eye raged,
falcon’s feathers flowing
in celebration.
This was the day.

This was no ordinary man
Voice of his people
taller than warriors
big in boots
staccato words
Jamaican Infante.

The sun god’s cobra curled …