Frederick Webster

Lancaster, UK
Poet - Writer - Caricaturist - Humourist
Winner of the Ilkley Poetry Festival 1992
Inveterate student of literary construction
Philanthropist - Benefactor and friend to the needy and small animals.


What makes us laugh is the joke that goes BANG in our faces. What makes us just smile is life; it sneaks upon us from behind and startles us.

You may enjoy what follows. It was all written some time ago and has been slowly maturing in my attic like a fine Camembert. As I opened the door last week the aroma told me that it was just ripe enough for consumption. I offer it to you now, and here's what to drink with it. Pour yourself a large glass of Jack Daniel's Old No7 and drop two Anadin Extra. That way you will enjoy the taste and you'll be able to get up in the morning without suffering any lasting effects.

The irreverence with which the work is written masks, in essence, a trenchant criticism of Margaret Thatcher's period of office, its ethos, and the failure of the preceding Callaghan government to prevent it from happening. Remember the longest suicide note in history? Labour's 1979 election manifesto? That's when it all kicked off. The work, that is, not The Imperious Rule of the Blessed Margaret.



The only thing we have which is guaranteed
is a one way ticket to a tenement of clay.

Our hope that during the journey
we can earn each other's confidence
and share with one another whatever small offerings
the Muse has seen fit to bestow upon us

Before our old enemy Time
lays his fingers upon our tired eyelids.


Not quite sure? Me neither! But let's just dip in and see what we find.

One story will give you a snapshot. Read them in order and you will see a chronology, of sorts, as this man progresses on a solitary and bewildering journey of his reflections through the world of words. Too many, some folk have said. But try it, because I'm thinking of packing it all in and taking up something simpler like Theoretical Physics. Or something which will bring me into a more wholesome contact with my fellow man like Morris Dancing.

Come on! We can do this.

Some wag remarked that this photograph makes me look less like a writer he could take seriously and more like a London Futures and Securities dealer who's celebrating the delivery of his second Porsche. As a matter of fact, I informed him, drawing myself up, I was partying on salmon canapés and rather large glasses of Blossom Hill Soft and Fruity and enjoying the effect.


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