When your dad writes a porno

Imagine if your dad wrote blinking erotica,

Well it’s better than discovering a family swastika,

So many questions we’d love to ask,

Like is a cervix within your grasp?

Belinda Blinked is the sexy title,

Which keeps Jamie Morton’s dad from being idle,

Jamie deconstructs each chapter with the help of his mates,

James and Alice ease him through Belinda’s front gates,

With similes comparing breasts to pomegranates,

We do wonder about Jamie’s dads food vs literary palates,

In the last series blue jizz was a feature,

Like smurf sex or juice from an avatar-like creature,

Set to the back drop of Steele’s pots and pans,

Which makes you wonder about chef Jamie Oliver’s expansion pans,

Correcting school dinners was very worthwhile,

So Jamie Oliver, how about Belinda themed treats to add to the culinary shagpile,

In Belinda’s world there is one thing that’s a must,

That is donating to the Asses and Donkey’s Trust,

And when it comes to selling pots and pans there is nothing wrong,

With wandering around a maze in a stained black thong,

Belinda has friends too Bella and Gizelle,

And The Duchess on whose face she fell,

It’s not for the faint hearted here’s a word to the wise,

There is dribbling and gushing and many a literary surprise,

But Rocky Flinstone (Jamie Morton’s Dad) has penned a real gem,

And it’s not a book we would completely condem,

It’s given us the podcast and conjured so many new visions,

Like Jim Sturgess and a room with leathery conditions,

But has Rocky’s son whilst masturbating ever thought, 

Of dipping into his Dad’s book – no too scared to get caught,

A smash hit podcast and a sell out tour,

All down to Belinda rolling around naked on the floor,

She bonks and she blinks and that’s about it,

And we’ve all been wondering – since when does a pomegranate look like a tit?!

My Dad Wrote A Porno is a podcast created by Jamie Morton. Listen via iTunes or acast here.

Dress Mania

Dear the world and people who read,

I am a woman in desperate need,

I have a dress that I absolutely love,

But the price tag is way above,

What you should spend on a bit of material,

Even though this dress is practically etherial,

It’s giving me pangs and fashion woe,

Maybe I can buy it and wear it in my show,

Then I could claim it back against tax,

Like my haircuts, tampons (otherwise I’d bleed on stage) and all those immacs,

If only my social calendar was full to the brim,

Then I could just buy it on a whim,

I could just get it as a treat to myself,

And but it in a box and keep it on a shelf,

And protect all those layers and stitching,

Yes that or I’ll just dance around in it my kitchen,

Do you know an event that I could come along to?

Then I’ll have an excuse and will forever love you,

Maybe I will just do it I’ll click buy,

Oh gosh what a feeling – it’s like I am fashion high,

I’ll just check if there are any discount vouchers online,

Oh no I’ve seen another dress! Oh this is the one! Really I’m serious this time …

Nude fun

Podcasting is the BAINES of my life,

But my name (Baines) means fun not full strife,

Record in the loo whilst you are in the nude,

In between takes you can gobble some food,

If there is one night that you just can’t get off to sleep,

Make a new podcast about Green Wing actor Mark Heap,

With a podcast you really can do anything you might,

Except perhaps setting your guest alight,

Except if your guests are Lou Lou and Take That,

You wouldn’t want to get into a spat,

But they do repeatedly sing “relight my fire”,

Refusing their request may cause them great ire,

It seems with all that singing they’d really like us to grant this wish,

Although maybe they mean it metaphoricalish,

Yes I made up that word but as I’ve already said, 

When you have a podcast you can do whatever pops into your head,

And now that my foods ready and I’m in the loo,

Just for weird accostics not for a poo,

The time for Baines podcasting has began,

And you can even listen on iTunes – just search ‘Baines Plus One’.

New York New York

I went to see New York to see a hottie,

But going there made me a bit snotty,

I did go for fun,

Not just for the sun,

There was still snow and it was icy cold,

But as soon as I saw Times Square I was sold,

What a dazzling place,

Bright lights in your face,

And pick pockets galore,

Gentlemen hold on to your wallet not a door,

The comedy was great,

The locals were irate,

But we had to learn how to tip,

And jet lag meant we had to kip,

I even got a tattoo,

After signing a waver that I wouldn’t sue,

I got a little heart done on my ribs,

No im not telling fibs,

As for pain it was actually fine,

But who is this hottie of mine,

It’s a lady I’ve always wanted to meet,

She stands at 3,700 feet,

Yes for me she’s a little tall,

It’s a long way to fall,

But she’s as steady as a rock,

It would take a lot to rock,

The rather snazzy Statue of Liberty,

She stands for the free,

I love her sense of style too,

All matching in greeny blue,

Piercing the sky,

Her torch held on high,

She been holding that pose for years,

She’s a proper Yogi – I’d be in tears,

When it comes to stretching she’s the King,

That commitment – 188 years working in a bingo wing.

Westminster attack

I wasn’t there but I was near,

At Oxford Circus we didn’t hear,

Everything seemed ‘normal’ until I got a text,

Is everyone okay? What happens next?

The news seemed to be reporting something far off and strange,

But at that moment I felt the change,

The coverage was pounded out dominating our screens,

Images of those shocking and horrifying scenes,

London had a hush like never before,

Not since our transport was hit and before that the war,

Travelling into Westminster the streets were empty,

Moving against a stream of about twenty,

Who were all leaving the area heavily heading home,

This was not a place to wander, not the time for a roam,

Helicopters were buzzing and filling the skies,

Sirens blaring and weary Policeman’s eyes, 

I grabbed a tea in a Pret and felt a little tense,

Soon comforted by the Police presence,

The officers popped in for a coffee such a commonplace thing,

But today it seemed importantly ordinary – something with which to cling, 

The country and the world send love to everyone affected,

Such an awful day for anyone connected, 

We have opened our hearts and many have prayed,

To those who would terrorise us we say #wearenotafraid 

I know my poems are usually light-hearted and funny but it felt important to mention the events in London today. Hope you don’t mind a bit of serious poetry. xxx

Fat rollsĀ 

I’m not talking bacon butties I mean the bits around your middle,

That make us uncomfortable in certain tops so we fiddle,

Pulling our T-shirts this way and that,

So it’s more flattering and we don’t feel fat,

But who really cares – why do we do it?

Most of us wish we were healthier and fit,

Everyone hides bits they’d rather weren’t there,

Would it be the worst if people were to stare,

Maybe they love our knees, or our shoulders or our middle,

It’s not like you can buy a new one at Lidyl,

Maybe what we’ve got is cool and different and us,

Unless you have a blister that’s infected and bursting with pus,

That sh*t needs to be seen to and it don’t let it define you,

And it’s probably what’s giving you that infected green hue,

Anyway – maybe I should love my face and all of my chins,

Maybe I shouldn’t be worried about my weird shins, 

And my actually fat rolls are insulating and handy,

When I’m hiding pens or tampons or candy.