The Arrival

A committee was set up in order to plan for the visit. A chairman was voted for, an elderly gentleman with a walrus moustache. He was then replaced with another elderly gentleman. The secretary resigned because she objected to the name of the committee. The replacement secretary used to be the treasurer, so a treasurer had to be found. The original chairman wanted to be the treasurer but the new chairman objected. Both the chairman and the prospective treasurer then resigned from the committee, so a new chairman had to be found as well as a treasurer. The positions were eventually filled with a man who used to be a car salesman, who said he knew all about planning visits. And the Treasurer was shared among the other members of the committee on a rotation basis. Just like a quiz show on TV, someone commented. The comment was recorded in the minutes.
A name had to be invented. Someone suggested the Visit Committee, but there was another committee called the Visiting Committee and it was thought that this would lead to confusion. Someone else suggested the Committee for the Visit, but this was also voted down because it sounded boring. The person who suggested it was the person who was also the Treasurer on this occasion, and she resigned. A third suggestion was to call the committee something trendy, just like a modern company, a name which would hint at science and progress in the arts. Implosion was the name that was banded around. The secretary commented that it sounded like something from The Apprentice. The person who suggested it was very upset about this and he threatened to resign, but just as he did they came in with the coffees so he stayed on for a bit. This was recorded in the minutes.
They finally decided on the Systemal Function for the Application for the Arrival of the Visitor and His Entourage. Or SFAAVHE, for short. This was recorded in the minutes.
It was then time to decide what the committee would actually plan for the visitor’s arrival. There was no doubt that he was eminent, so it was agreed by all that he should have a red carpet when he stepped out of his car. Then someone said that he shouldn’t be in his own car at all. If he was so eminent, they argued, then, surely, he should be driven? OK, then. A limousine would pick him up from his house. But he lived two hundred miles away. This was a problem. They decided they would compromise. He would drive as far as the halfway point and then the limousine would pick him up. It was generally agreed that this was a good idea and it was recorded in the minutes.
Then someone pointed out that red carpets were hard to find, and they got mucky if it rained. The under-secretary was dispatched to source a long red carpet. She asked what sourced meant and the chairman said that it meant to go and fine one. She asked why he didn’t say that in the first place, and the chairman said that it was business-speak, that’s how they said things in the world of business. The under-secretary objected to the tone that the chairman took and she resigned. A new under-secretary was then voted in and he said that he would look on the internet to find a red carpet. Ten minutes later he said that he could only find a yellow one. That will have to do, the chairman said. And all of this was recorded in the minutes.
The meeting then moved on to who would be there to greet the visitor on his arrival. One of the members suggested the head of the department, but then someone else reminded her that the head of the department was currently being investigated for fraud and it would be best that he were to stay out of the limelight. The chairman said that this was not the way to treat the head of the department and that he should be there. The treasurer then reminded the chairman that he, too, was caught up in the same scandal, so the chairman then resigned and a new one was voted in. She thanked the previous chairman for his hard work, but then she spilled coffee on her lap. She resigned, so that she could go to the bathroom and wash it off. When she got back to the room, the original chairman had been voted back in. And all of this was recorded in the minutes.
The next item for discussion was the food that would be provided for the function once the visitor had arrived. Someone suggested prawn cocktail, but they were reminded that the budget would stretch so far. Someone then suggested prawn cocktail crisps, but they were laughed out of the room. Someone suggested those funny spicy sausage things that go on sticks and you have to move them upwards with your thumb as you eat them, and they are often seen in films set in North Africa, but no-one knew what he was going on about, so someone else suggested scotch eggs. Scotch eggs it was. Then the secretary announced that he was allergic to scotch eggs, and someone said that he wouldn’t even be at the function, he wasn’t important enough. He then resigned. A new secretary was voted in, and this was recorded in the minutes.
Much discussion then centred around the manner in which the eminent guest would be introduced to the members of the department before he entertained them all with his speech. One person suggested a strict clock-wise motion around the room, someone else suggested anti-clockwise. The chairman said that the guest should be left to speak to whoever he wanted, but that the most prominent members of the department should be introduced to him slyly, subtly, so as not to provoke suspicion that the whole thing was stage managed. Someone then suggested name-badges, coloured according to the importance of the person wearing them. It’s what we did in the war, he suggested. Even Hitler wore a name badge. There was a show of hands and it was decided that there would be name badges. The discussion of whether they should be in higher or lower case went on for half an hour. And all of this was recorded in the minutes.
The meeting had almost finished and no-one had resigned for a while. The secretary was asked to read out the minutes, but he objected, so he resigned. The new secretary was then asked to read out the minutes and he did so beautifully, but in Spanish. The next secretary read out the minutes. This included the reading of the last minutes, which included the reading of the minutes before that, which included the reading of the minutes before that. This went on for some three hours. By the time he had stopped reading the minutes, everyone else had gone home. And this was also recorded in the minutes.
The secretary then resigned, but as there was no-one around to record this in the minutes, no-one actually knew about it.

The visit did not go to plan. The eminent guest was not greeted half way by limousine because he caught the bus instead. And when he arrived at the department, (climbing off the number 443), he tripped over the yellow carpet because he though it was a continuation of the pavement. The head of the department met him, but just as he did so he was handcuffed by the police and dragged away for questioning. The eminent guest was then led to the hall where, instead of meeting and greeting, and looking at name badges – (the font of which was so small he couldn’t read them anyway, and he was colour-blind), he crammed a scotch egg into his mouth and promptly choked, before asking why they had not supplied, instead, those spicy sausage things on sticks that you see in films about North Africa. And on the way to the podium to deliver his speech, he almost tripped over the end of his scarf.
‘Ladies and gentlemen’, the chairman of the welcoming committee announced in to the microphone. ‘Let me introduce to you, Professor Zazzo Thiim!’
Nobody clapped, because the committee had forgotten to send out any of the invitations. It had not been recorded in the minutes.

There’s nothing more evil than salad

Salad

There’s nothing more evil than salad.
It’s a good chew spoiled.
And since they outlawed chocolate as a salad dressing,
All the fun has gone out of it.

You never see someone enjoying a salad.
They just have this grim determination
Followed by smug satisfaction
As they continually point out that they had a salad for lunch.
Aren’t I good?
Oh you’re so smug.
I really enjoyed my pasty.

There’s nothing more evil than salad.
It’s the lunchtime equivalent of a punch in the face.
It’s why cows always look so miserable.
It’s why people who eat salad
Always look so miserable.

There’s nothing worse
Than having a belly full of celery
And an instant regret in your own existence.
A whole afternoon with it repeating on yku
Like a bad episode of CSI,
A reminder of what a martyr you have been
With your salad.
But they don’t give out medals for that,
No sir.

They’ve started painting McDonald’s green.
That’s not fooling anyone.
They’re putting more lettuce in burgers now.
It’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Cowboys on a Tugboat / Little House, live in Torquay, March 2025

Had a great night performing at Be Spoken in Torquay last night. Here are two poems from my set, the audience was a bit sizzled so I had to belt out some old and new bangers!

Daniel Cooper, this is your history – An except from The Neon Yak, by Robert Garnham

Hello, here’s another excerpt from my new novel, which you can purchase here https://www.lulu.com/shop/robert-garnham/the-neon-yak/paperback/product-jewwrd5.html?q=The+neon+yak&page=1&pageSize=4

Writing ‘The Neon Yak’

I first started writing The Neon Yak about three years ago. I was going through some old poems that I had written while staying with my Grandmother in Surrey, she lived in an old two up two down cottage in the woods and there were glimpses of London in the distance, and I realised what a magic place it all was. And then I started to think about all of the emotions a teenager has at the time, and the events which occur which, looking back, seem magical in themselves. Add to these the usual teenage longings, and the inner struggle of accepting my own homosexuality, and the story just seemed to seep into my consciousness.

The Neon Yak is heavily autobiographical, but not totally. Some of the things which happen in the novel actually did happen to me. In fact, I would say that about three quarters of the ‘supernatural’ events in the novel happened. I’m not sure whether they took place in that strange realm of half dream, half awake, or in actuality, but they felt real and they still feel real now.

And what of The Neon Yak itself? This entity is something I created for my 2017 Edinburgh show, In the Glare of the Neon Yak, but it is based on the local legends and folklore which were prevalent in the area where I grew up of Herne the Hunter. If you’ve never heard of Herne, then a Google search will prove enlightening, though there are theories that he was invented by William Shakespeare for The Merry Wives of Windsor. Whatever the origins, Herne the Hunter seemed real for us kids growing up, and any visit to the woods always carried the risk of being confronted by The Hunter.

The novel takes place during the summer between middle school and secondary school, which is always a strange time when you are growing up. For me it was especially auspicious, because it meant commuting to a busy town in the suburbs of west London instead of staying in our cosy little Surrey village surrounded by woods. The secondary school felt like another world and of course, along with it came a growing sense of my own sexuality, and my own denial of that. The events which are laid out during that summer, in actuality, probably occurred over the space of a few years. If you ask me nicely one day, I might tell you which are real and which are works of imagination.

I wrote the first draft of the novel over a frenetic month in 2023, and then spent the next year refining it and editing. I am hugely grateful to Stoat Books for publishing it.

You can order a copy here https://www.lulu.com/shop/robert-garnham/the-neon-yak/paperback/product-2m4jj2e.html?q=The+Neon+Yak&page=1&pageSize=4&fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR24JqIowDGJ-t10StfCY8FSIrOKB3Pn7k9momkiK_AYBZBVfAwUS8Icivk_aem_aXHTimgkDLXM2AXc8pzPCA

The Neon Yak

My novel The Neon Yak is published today by Stoat Books. A tale of growing up, coming of age, magic, folklore, the dark woods of Surrey, and a drag queen called Tina Afterburner.

“Have you ever felt like a stranger in your own life? The Neon Yak is a beautifully written and deeply introspective novel that explores the challenges of growing up different. Set in the heart of 1980s suburbia, it follows Daniel Cooper, a boy caught between his true self and the expectations imposed upon him. As he navigates school bullies, family tensions, and the constant backdrop of motorways and distant city lights, Daniel finds refuge in books, music, and his vivid imagination. Amidst his struggle with societal norms and self-discovery, a voice from within—embodied by the captivating and enigmatic Tina—urges him to embrace his authentic identity.”

Here’s an excerpt from the novel, a short chapter entitled ‘One Day I Levitated’.

You can order the book at the moment from Stoat Books’ Lulu site right here: https://www.lulu.com/shop/robert-garnham/the-neon-yak/paperback/product-2m4jj2e.html?q=The+Neon+Yak&page=1&pageSize=4&fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR24JqIowDGJ-t10StfCY8FSIrOKB3Pn7k9momkiK_AYBZBVfAwUS8Icivk_aem_aXHTimgkDLXM2AXc8pzPCA