Skip to main content

John Lucas

IX BULC DRANNATS NITRAM EHT

(A Bagatelle)

Mort Sahl

Maurice Schwob

Maurice Sendak

Mahendra Solanki

Marin Sorescu

Muggsy Spanier

Mickey Spillane

Michael Standen

Meic Stephens

Martin Stannard (Capt)

Mark Stein

Umpire Michael Schmidt

---------------------------------

CLUB MASSEUSE

Mery! Streep

 

CLUB COACH

Martin Scorsese

 

CLUB PSYCHOLOGIST

Mary Shelley (Asst. Muriel Spark)

 

CLUB MUSICAL DIRECTOR

Max Schillings unt der Meister Singers

 

CLUB KIT

Marks and Spenser

 

CLUB MASCOT

Mindy Starr (She got sloshed in the Astor Bar)

 

CLUB MOTTO

Mortuis Sonnetum

 

CLUB BADGE

Muricate Sabres

 

CLUB COLOURS

Magenta on Sable

 

CLUB MEETING GROUND

Mount St. NG1 (If wet in Manvers Saloon)

 

CLUB BAR

Mansfield & Shipstone’s (Suppliers)

Prop. Matthew Sweeney

 

CLUB AUDITOR

Mr. Rich Sunak

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © John Lucas, 2022

 

 


 

 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Introduction by Ian McMillan

Sometime in the very early 1980’s I was doing a reading for Martin Stannard somewhere in Ipswich and I was staying over at Martin’s house. On the way back from the gig his car broke down spectacularly, gasping and wheezing, then clanking and sighing, then moaning and complaining, then dying. The night was clear and Martin and I stood outside the car waiting for the RAC and gazing at the stars and I realised, not for the first time and not for the last, that I was living in a Martin Stannard poem and that it was an exciting place to live. When I first read Martin’s poems and started subscribing to his wonderful magazine Joe Soap’s Canoe I was excited that he took his influences from absolutely everywhere. At the time a number of us were writing in the shadow of Ted Hughes and The Mersey Poets and our lenses were crowded with our visceral reactions to Thatcherism’s vicious flowering but Martin seemed to look wider than the rest of us; he took in John Ashbery and surrealism, a kind of cra...
Post a Comment
Read more

David Belbin

There's nothing like getting it wrong . MARTIN STANNARD AT SEVENTY I first encountered Martin through his poems in 1987, when Wide Skirt Press published The Flat of the Land . The title poem, which also opened the collection, was a revelation. The style owed a lot to the New York Poets, who I had recently discovered, but also felt fresh, funny and self deprecating in a very English way. Two years later, John Harvey's Slow Dancer press published a new and selected called The Gracing of Days , then Wide Skirt press published Denying England . I loved both collections: the voice, Martin's laconic yet romantic view of the world, the string of humour tightly laced throughout. I dragged a bunch of my A level students to a Slow Dancer reading in the basement of Nottingham's Old Vic pub. Martin was appearing alongside a young whippersnapper called Simon Armitage, who John had also published a pamphlet by. I primed the students for the reading with a sheet of poems by b...
Post a Comment
Read more

Alan Baker

I came to Martin Stannard's poetry relatively late, when, at a book fair, I picked up a pamphlet entitled "Easter" (published 1994). The easy, familiar tone and the quick wit drew me in to what was at first just a pleasant read. Then, imperceptibly, the poetry took me to to a zone of wonder and disorientation that was exhilirating. Fast forward twenty-six years and, by 2020, I had the honour of being Martin's publisher, when the third title of his that I published, "Reading Moby Dick and Other Matters", was released. It's a beautiful object (I can say that as the book design was all Martin's). And the title poem, "Reading Moby Dick" has all the features I'd been struck by in "Easter" but with an added sophistication that the intervening years of poetic practice had brought to it. It opens with a knowing dodgy joke - "Call me optimistic..." which sets the tone of irreverence and tongue-in-cheek meandering...
Post a Comment
Read more