We are the England.
We are sick pale thugs with wonky teeth.
Tracksuit clad venomous cunts.
They say that the rancid bite of an Englishman contains more cholera and dysentary than an African river.
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2011
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September
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- She cut her finger
- One finger is never enough
- Postboy
- Poem for Saturday
- The pearly white awkwardness
- Fuckin pigs.
- Suddenly
- MEANWHILE
- An observation
- FIREBALL
- wankers
- Doggy style
- Rush hour
- The hours
- The blonde
- Romance aint dead
- If you could have anyone
- Back of the van 2
- The back
- skool
- Now you know
- Poems
- Tube journey
- 7.39 AM to faversham
- Non sex action xxx
- All of my poems rolled into one!
- Taters
- You is the badness
- Early morning people
- David
- I got the runaround
- Hungry
- One of the greats that i let slip
- The Woods
- Elbows
- Heart of Darkness
- The Flying Medallions.The End of.
- Medallion night at Glasto
- Story of a labourer
- "I hate you " lyrics
- PHOTOS OF THE TIRED lyrics
- "Not mine" lyrics
- "Guts" lyrics
- Different lyrics
- Milky jellies
- We are the England
- Hot day you know it
- The trail
- Pig dogs on public transport.
- Miss Percival
- Pon the scaffold the wind cuts through
- My brand new poem.
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September
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