Tag Archives: music

I Remember Judge Tuxedo

Episode 4 of the Bunbury Speaks Podcast is here! We interviewed a guy you’ll all have heard about from our other podcasts because he did the music! It’s none other than out very own Scott Midlane.

In this podcast we cover a lot of topics ans here are the links we spoke about:
To find Scott’s wonderful music

Third Man Phenomenon

And his new single Rag Doll 

Check all of this great stuff out!

Check out the wonderful work from Howard Sinclair Photography

If you’d like to find out more or have questions about Diabetes, please follow the following link

As always the music was by the brilliant Midlane, click on his face below for more!

It was produced by Keri Moriarty for the internet.

Liked this podcast? Want to help Bunbury carry on bringing you wonderful entertainment? Please hit the donate link below and give what you can. We love what we do and hope you love it too.
Thank you.

Donate to The Bunbury Speaks

All that said, we hope you enjoy the podcast.

Happy listening,

Much love,
Team Bunbury


00:10 Just The Tonic @ The Caves, Just The Wee Room (Venue 88) Aug 19-26th

Bunbury Rating – ⭐⭐⭐⭐

This is an odd little show and one of the true gems of the fringe although it’s not what you might expect.
A synthesiser is played in the background while images of fictional shows flash up on a screen accompanied by descriptions of what to expect from the shows. It is here that the magic of this show lies. There is no spoken word element to the performance but the descriptions are a work of pure genius. While reading one or two of these I found myself thinking that I’d probably watch this or that programme. I don’t know what that says about me but what I was seeing was strangely addictive.
Throughout the show the short show descriptions became more surreal and dark aided by the music which, at times was downright creepy.

For me, this show is on at the right time, in the right room in the right venue and has tp be seen. It’s a really treat and something more than a bit unique and unusual.

Episode 3: Death Appeared, There Was No Door


Roll up! Roll up, for episode 3 of The Bunbury Speaks Podcast.

This time we interviewed the most excellent Rosa Wright and covered a lot.
First and foremost, we spoke about Rosa’s debut one woman show called ‘The Love Calculator’. The link to the event is here:

Tickets are available here, just click on the picture:

It’s so worth going to see because it’s brilliant. You can read our  5 star review of the show here:

To check out more of the wonderful Rosa is and has been involved in in the past, check out her website:

Speaking of other cool things Rosa does, in the podcast we talk to her about an album she released last year so here’s the link to that too!

We also spoke about the wonderful work Rosa does for the Stroke Association charity. If you or someone you care about has been affected by Stroke, here’s the link to this wonderful organisation:

And finally, the Post Apocalyptic Book Group that Rosa is involved in which sounds excellent:

As always the music was by the brilliant Midlane, click on his face below for more!

It was produced by Keri Moriarty for the internet.

Liked this podcast? Want to help Bunbury carry on bringing you wonderful entertainment? Please hit the donate link below and give what you can. We love what we do and hope you love it too.
Thank you.

Donate to The Bunbury Speaks

All that said, we hope you enjoy the podcast.

Happy listening,

Much love,
Team Bunbury

Rosa Wright: The Love Calculator

Bunbury Reviews
Rosa Wright: The Love Calculator

Bunbury  Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

As the audience took their seats, Rosa Wright, already sat on stage, playing a gentle, melody on a Ukulele. As soon as everyone  was comfortable, the show began and immediately Wright held the room in the palm of her hand demonstrating a superb ability to think on her feet during the excellent audience participation which is neither awkward nor embarrassing for the audience members.
In this beautifully written, honest and touching show poetry, comedy and song are blended perfectly lending further to the unafraid theme threading through the show.
Each piece has its own personality and is both written and performed with different voices masterfully. Some of them deal with fairly sensitive issues, Wright however has a superb ability to maintain the ‘safe space’ feel. The wonderfully crafted songs are both relaxing to listen to as well as brilliantly funny.

This is a must see show and is not to be missed.

Buy tickets below, Just Click on the poster.



Editor Christopher Writes – #PoemADayForAYear: 17-19/07/15


Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘bittersweet memory’ from #DSPoetry.

The phrase ‘no resit’

jolts the heart, sets it

on a path until,

seven months later, the heart

is captured and can be at rest.


Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘breathless second’ from #WrittenRiver.

‘How do you think I feel?’

rapid breaths condense

into fogs of silver.

‘I’ve been training for

four fucking years!’


For the million and one moments

after you escape, each one

is sumptuous. Each mouthful

of fresh, clean air tastes

as sweet as anything can.

In delirium, you start

to rebuild a shattered life.

You do all the things you

always said you would do

but never got round to

before you were taken,

locked away for months.

Then, as it does,

reality’s dust starts to settle over you,

infinite particles gradually weighing

and bringing you back down to earth.

The smallest things no longer feel

like the greatest things you can do.

You start to take them for granted.

Then you realise that when you were taken,

irreplaceable things were taken too.

Things you will never get back.

Even things that you can get back.

Your phone was broken in the struggle.

Not a massive deal but it is the inconvenience

and the cost that are really annoying

and that is when the resentment truly kicks in.

Editor Christopher Writes – #PoemADayForAYear: 14-16/07/15

Here is the second of the catch-up days. All poems, as said before, have already been written. This is just posting them up.


The smallest one hid

at the back for photos,

an innate shyness caused

by always being the furthest away

from warm embraces.

While all the others

are fawned over, it simply sits

and waits for its turn, which never comes,

until eventually it is disowned,

left alone in the deep cold.

One day someone came to visit,

it passed all the others with perfunctory nods

until it came to the smallest,

at the back as always,

and smiled, said hello.

Pluto smiled back.


The bin in work is not just a bin.

It is not simply there

to hold the discarded items

that retail invariably brings –

packaging, faulty products.

It is also used as a ‘wet floor’ sign,

something to apathetically kick

when it is too hot and I am crabby.

It is also a beacon.

It is the first thing I see, bold red,

as I am opening the door.

A warning light to let me know

the next eight hours of my life

will be tedious, annoying

and preciously not mine.


The tall wide man

with skinny legs and

cliff-face shoulders

struts in front of the mirror.

His arms a map with only

one indicated ordinance feature;

a detailed topography of his

veins. He lifts a dumbbell

with a constipated grunt over his head

and strains. Cannon-balls jostle

for supremacy under stretched-out skin.

Next to him, a short squat man,

wide and less detailed quickly

loses enthusiasm halfway

through a routine. He looks at the tall, wide

man and considers his form,

the time masturbated away

aiming for what is seen as perfection.

Two minutes later, the squat man

is asking to cancel his membership.

Editor Christopher Writes – #PoemADayForAYear: 11-13/07/15

As you have probably seen, we have been mightily busy here at Bunbury over the past few days. We have had a new issue out and getting ready to take the next massive step in building our support network. Because of all the exciting things happening here, I have not had chance to sit and update the blog for quite a few days. I have still been writing poems, don’t worry, but actually sitting and getting them written here has not been possible.

Here is an update of the poems. I will do three tonight and three tomorrow for 11-13/07 and 14-16/07 and then carry on as normal from there. I know just one or two poems at a time is probably more than enough drivvle than you can handle so I thought I would break it up a tad.


Here is a poem.

Her shoulders slung low

covered in spider-spun-thin

lace while all the men

stood catching flies,

hypnotised by the chain-link

waist and watch-face hips.

The kind of sway that inspires

skulking in shrubbery at three a.m,

unlicensed firearms and missing

neighbourhood pets.

Though never encourages it.

That sway lead cut-marble

legs through clinically-white

door frames into clinically-cleaned

rooms full of anesthetic and blueprints

for less appeal.


Here is a poem.

Space is big, is not, my friends?

The scientificists say that don’t

know much ’bout space. They

don’t know nothin’ ’bout

what it’s made from or

where it came from.

I don’t  mind mind sayin’

that I don’t know nothin’

more than what them scientificists

say they don’t know

but I do know I got me a theory.

Now, as we all know,

bein’ compatriots here of this good green earth,

that we is all bein’ watched all the time.

When we at work, walkin’ around town,

eatin’ in our favourite dinery outlets.

Don’t matter where we are, we is bein’ watched.

There’s one place though that they can’t get to us.

Or so we think.

Let me ask you a question.

Have you ever been laid in bed at night

and you can’t sleep? Eventually,

you’re just about to drift off and you

think you see something out of the corner

of your eye, like shadows flickerin’?

Oh you tell yourself it’s nothin’ but

think about this. How is those shadows

flickerin’ when there’s no light.

I tell you now that those are governmental

agents, shadows harnessed from

the deep darkness of space by all

those satellite dishes they got

swirlin’ round above our heads.

Why do you think space is so black?

It’s shadows people. It’s shadows.


Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘collecting souls’ from #cdpoetry.

Screams flicker the ends

of pages of heavy books.

Flick through to see souls

flattened alongside rose petals,

ready for cataloging.

Editor Christopher Writes – #PoemADayForAYear: 30/06/15 + 01 & 02/07/15


Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘scent of decadence’ by #MadVerse.

The scent of decadence precedes

the stench of decay from

neglected morals,

withered ideals left

to rot outside 5-star suites.


So today I have decided to do an actual blog post. I know it has been a while but I read an article today that really made me mad. Inevitably, this blog post will fail to properly take the issue to task, run out of energy half-way through and end with an ill-conceived joke. So strap in folks!

The article in question is entitled ‘If you’re straight you need to stop using rainbow profile pics’ by Charles White. Now, aside from the fact that there needs to be a comma in that sentence – something a DEPUTY EDITOR should really know – this entire article comes across like one man moaning about something that really does not need to be moaned about. As you all know, last week equal marriage was passed in America. A landmark day.

Now I’m not here to say to the LGBT community ‘you’ve got equal marriage now stop moaning.’ I won’t say that for a few reasons. One, I don’t actual believe that. Two,  it’s incredible insensitive. I know that there are still a whole world of injustices that the LGBT community suffer and that, while being able to get married is a huge step in the right direction, it does not mean that the injustices are automatically written off. This is why Pride and the rainbow flag are still so important in trying to fight this. That is why millions of people used the in-Facebook profile picture editor to change their pictures to a rainbow colourisation – to acknowledge the incredible work campaigners have done and to show their support.

I myself am not gay and I changed my profile picture on Facebook to show support. This, apparently, is something that makes Mr White very angry. According to him, straight people should not be showing their support for a cause they ‘have not fought for.’ He also used the example of the charity wristbands as a way people show their ‘slacktivism’ towards causes. He says that things like this are done while a cause is fashionable and once the media spotlight has gone away, no-one cares. Wristbands are binned and Facebook profile pictures are changed back to something promoting the person rather than a cause.

There he may have a point. Yes, it is easy to do something quick like this to show support for a cause whilst the world’s glare is on the cause. But then again, that’s how things work today. God knows, I am not the biggest advocate for modern society but there is that much…stuff going on that if something does not have a light shone on it, it is sometimes less noticeable.

So yes, not everyone is quite an entrenched in every single political / charitable / whatever cause under the sun but that does not mean we cannot find ways to show support. If everyone threw themselves into fighting with all their spirit and body for everything that could be believed in a) most people would be dead and b) those not dead would be insane because you can’t take the full weight of the entire world’s problems onto your shoulders.

I, for example, am all for gay marriage. As I said, I changed my profile picture to show support and congratulations towards those who have fought for equal marriage. No, I was not in trenches with them but I do not feel like I do not have the right to show my support.

Mr White saying we should not show support for cause that we have not been involved in is the same as saying we should not wear poppies for Remembrance Sunday. It’s fucking insane. If no-one had shown support I’m sure he would have fucking moaned about that too. As far as I can tell, he’s an uppity arsehole who plied his trade moaning about the fact that LGBT people cannot get married and now that they can, he has nothing to moan about so is grasping at straws.

Stop moaning mate.

Here is a poem.

He drips poison from a wound

he opened himself with the rusted

nib of an ancient pen.

The paper has long since eroded,

along with the patience of those

who did laud his diatribes.

He daubs virulent ink across

walls and tress,

pavements and vehicles,

his well infinite as his ire

and both as ineffective as the other.

In time, purification pours

from the skies and washes his

petulance away.


Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘The Reflection of Narcissus’ by #SpeakPoetry

The face in the pool

winks, shimmies,

uses its all to draw in

those as two-dimensional

as it is.

Editor Christopher Writes – #PoemADayForAYear: 22 + 23/06/15


Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘summer afternoons’ from #Soulwords.

Summers heavy hand

flicks and stings

sweet-sticky skin.

The sun drills through

locked car windows.


Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘murderer’ from #cdpoetry.


My tongue snakes
as I drain the contents
between my lips.
My friend pulls a gun, shooting his
taking ‘murder a pint’ too literally.

Editor Christopher Writes – #PoemADayForAYear: 19 + 20 + 21/06/15

So yesterday I invented a game. It’s called Whack-An-Arsehole. Any time an arsehole pops up from its dingy little hole to cause me or anyone I love grief, stress, offence, I’m going to smash them with a mallet. Definitely metaphorically, maybe literally, if the logistics are right.


Here is a poem. It is based on something someone once said to me.

Someone once told me the fact I swear

means I have a limited vocabulary.

I think what he meant to say was

that any tutelage I received in my youth,

In hessian days of pulchritudinous bliss,

was demonstrably diminished

if I felt no other option was afforded

to me than to resort to profanities.

In any case, I think if anything,

the fact I swear means much, much more

than that.

For example, it means I know how to use

the fullest extent of language to get what I want.

If you walk into the centre of a room,

you clearly want the spotlight on you.

If you are meek and mild-mannered,

you aint gonna get it.

However, you walk  to the centre

of that room and shout




people are going to pay attention.

I think swearing makes me more sexy.

While you meek people

are copulating


making love

I am fucking.

It means I have met far more varied

people than you can imagine.

I have not spent my life trapped in

a little bubble of decorum.

Plus, everyone swears,

just as sure as everyone shits.

I bet even the Queen does it.

‘Oh bollocks Phillip.

The damn corgies have shat on the lawn again.’

And you aint calling the Queen uneducated.

No, you aint.

So shut the fuck up.


Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘wasted life’ by #DSPoetry

The tick of the clock

deafens in time to metronomic words

‘You have wasted your life.’


Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘I am your father’ from #GeekVerses

I deserted you,

rather than raise you.

My head in the stars

but when your heart

is palpitating with shock

I will be there.