An Ode To The Woof!

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There’s a mad dog loose in the television glow, Kicking down the curtains of a dull grey world, Foam at the mouth, glitter in his flow, Middle fingers raised like pirate flags unfurled. Rik! You beautiful wrecking ball of a man, You spat poetry with insane energy and swears … Beep! Turned tantrums into symphonies with a chaotic slam And made rebellion feel gloriously cheap. Woof — That was the sound you made, Half punk-rock sermon, Half hand grenade. Woof — Like a pub brawl under theatre lights, A king in torn trousers Starting Saturday night fights. The posh boys trembled when you entered the frame, Because chaos had finally learned to dance. Every sneer was Shakespeare with a beautiful dame Every near pratfall a revolutionary stance. From filthy rich and catflaps to fantasised Flashearts You strutted through Britain like a riot in tweed, A prophet screaming through lager fueled by toilet humour farts “Boredom is the only thing we need to defeat the misery creed! And God, the faces — Elastic, dangerous, divine, Like your soul was trying to escape Through your grin all the time. Woof — Cry it loud for the lost boys’ king, For every outsider Too strange to sing. Woof — For the glorious fools who fail, Still laughing like Rik, Immortal Rik May-all! Now somewhere beyond the spotlight static, Beyond sitcoms, smoke, and backstage ale, There’s a celestial landlord shouting, “Oi! Keep that lunatic out the veil!” A beautiful Bottom a BlackAdders hiss A Young Ones Anarchy a Kevin Turvey diss His Hammersmith bench has his shadow still Sat But at his guest house paradiso he was still a complete and utter twat! But heaven’s probably a louder fraternity Tables smashed and angels pale, Because you arrived barking at eternity — Woof. Woof. The Rik May-all!