Boredom Gardens Issue One recorded live 29th July 2010 at the Sassoon Gallery, Peckham


Issue One


I saw an ad in a newspaper maybe a month ago that read 'Bleeding gums when you brush your teeth? YOU MAY HAVE GUM DISEASE'. Of course it was for a mouthwash that cures it, or prevents it, whatever. So I start to notice the colour of the toothpaste I spit out in the evening - pink. Not red, no definite BLOOD, but pink. I guess that if your gums are bleeding a little, the toothpaste goes pink. A lot, red. I don't know whether my flatmates have gum disease, but that same stuff from the newspaper ad sits on the shelf in the bathroom. I heard it turns your teeth brown - didn't use it since I didn't want gum disease AND brown teeth. Then I get to looking at the toothpaste, BEFORE it goes in my mouth. Pink.


Buckingham palace is in the process of being turned into the latest branch of the Disneyland group. As one of the construction workers I am in charge of excavating the parade ground at the front of the palace for remodelling. I work with hundreds of Mexicans obliged to wear plastic masks to disguise their identities.

Hundreds of Americans crowd the fences, offering sweets, chattering, bouncing basketballs to the workers. One kid climbs through the railings and runs towards a Mexican worker, trips and cuts his forehead badly. The mood gets pretty nasty.



it is not


to play games

with a person you can


play with


it is always inappropriate

to write a poem

on the back of

your P45


Kate and I are sat in a cupboard. The joint Kate has just rolled slowly becomes an enormous cone (perhaps one foot by one foot) of decaying mossy turf specked throughout with a soft cheese and marijuana. Having attached this (somehow) to an oriental pipe, Kate begins smoking, and draws large slugs of a blue sticky substance through the pipe and into her mouth, leaking down her chin and onto her shirt.

Later, we walk together through a large cemetery built on a hillside, many trees and paths, beautiful sunlight. A cyclist appears at our right at breakneck speed dressed entirely in salmon coloured clothing (including a cape), cuts across our path, and disappears among the gravestones.

'Don't you know who that was?' asks Kate.

'Donny Osmond.'


This evening

he sleeps facing

the wall

as if to pounce

Today on the beach

his shit was streaming

from his bowels

and he pissed

like a bitch

His owner

Shall we call her


tried to cover the evidence

before he'd even finished

She still won't admit that he's dying


"Ladies and gentlemen, a lesson in natural history. If you look to your right, you will see the Obby Oss and his procession. It is considered very bad luck not to offer the Oss a donation. Of course, being separated by the coach's windows, we are bound by circumstance. That is all, ladies and gentlemen."


A dry gutter on a quiet side street, perhaps seven PM, no traffic, few passers by (would be cropped anyhow). Springlike sunset (blushed tones). A tangle of hair extensions lie twisted as though around a bottle, tangled with pink cherry blossom throughout. Blossom to surround hair several inches around. Two frames.


A boy walks through a park, stops in a convenience store, buys one small bottle of Heinz tomato ketchup, and leaves. He crosses the road, and is immediately hit by a car. His head hits the windscreen, then he slides backwards off the car's bonnet, and comes to rest beside the bumper and the front right wheel. The driver leaps from the vehicle and runs to his side exclaiming 'Oh my god, there's blood. I've killed him. Somebody call an ambulance.' The boy opens his eyes and says,

'It's only tomato ketchup.'


A grassy area, perhaps several trees here and there. Scene well lit by bright, midday sunlight. A man, possibly homeless, sits with his back to the scene, elbows on knees, his bag between his feet (perhaps crop). In the foreground roughly thirty pigeons eat doughnuts, muffins, croissants and jam tarts.