Is it your first?

Is it your first?

Aw… is it your first?

The questions only increase

As the bump increases

She smiles and nods

The easier answer – for them

For her – sometimes

Other times she wants to tell her story

But her story’s too long

Too long for pleasantries

With vacant acquaintances

Some days she wants to scream

“Stop getting me to casually deny

the other times I’ve held life inside”

Because it’s not the first

Between you and me

But the story is hers and hers alone

And the question is innocent

They couldn’t have known

So she smiles

“Yes, this is my first”

And crosses her toes

For her precious secrets

The secret lost souls

Smelly Poos

mummy's writing darling

Smelly Poos

Don’t whinge about your husband
some people don’t have a husband
or a boyfriend for that matter
or friends even – to have a coffee with, and a natter
some people are lonely and despair
if he won’t fill the dishwasher, do you really care?
You could be widowed, or too ugly for a man
hold on to him Ducky, for as long as you can.

Don’t go on and on about how much you loathe your job
don’t you know some people have to thieve and rob?
some people can’t get an interview or type a CV
some can’t get their head around a bloody PC.

Don’t moan about your dinner, praying to Venus
oh if you could just. be. thinner
Some people don’t have meals, or food while we’re on it
ditch the calorific wine and have a Gin and tonic.

And don’t moan about your children.

Don’t cry about your baby, never sleeping through the night
his smelly poos
how much milk he gets through
how bloody expensive was that Jumperoo?
how he wrote on your wall with your eyeliner pen
I swear to God boy, don’t make me count to ten
how sometimes his crying drives you crazy

Some people can’t have a baby.

The Mum Next Door

brands worked with

There is a mum next door

you’ve caught sight of at dawn

dragging the bins out at night

dragging the kids out in the morn

mostly you hear her

and the little terrors she bred

screaming, crying, cbeebies on incessantly

the Gruffalo exhaustedly read

and I can bet my tax credits

on the fact that she’s lonely and sad

and that 38 times today the toddler has driven her mad

she worries so much about what her neighbours must think

she avoids their eyes as she stands sobbing at the kitchen sink

Lord oh Lord, what next door must hear

will she get reported for the children’s noisy tears?

You’ve seen her offspring in the garden

wearing only their nappies

you’ve seen her shouting at them not to eat worms

and with her husband in the morning all snappy

you’ve seen her put out the washing

covered in baked beans, looking grim

you’ve seen her blowing up the paddling pool

and sipping what looked like Tonic and Gin

you’ve not spoken to her yet

you assume she’s not got time

but she’d snap off your leg

for a neighbourly glass of wine

a chat, a smile, a cup of tea

all she needs is a bit of adult company

she wants you to tell her the kids are alright

and that she’s doing fine

that you don’t mind hearing the fights

every night at bed time

that you were her once

though it’s so long ago you’ve forgotten

that you don’t know how she does it

spending days cleaning and wiping bottoms

that you don’t judge her one bit

that sometimes kids, well, they can be little gits

I know this mum next door

and how hard she tries to be

(but fails at being) the perfect mummy

because the mum next door

well the mum next door is me.

Let’s Daddy Pig get it on


We were once so young

and full of lust

and though our fluffy handcuffs

are gathering dust

can for one night we just pretend

that you can still seduce

and I can still bend?

Tonight we’re Carrie and Mr Big

not who we really are:

Mummy and Daddy Pig.

It’s time to enjoy ourselves,

the kids are still alive

just the fact we haven’t killed each other

deserves a pretty hard high five.

so tonight let’s have an inter-marital fling

last time you saw my full frontal

was on the maternity wing.

let’s get a tasty take away

and a big barrel of gin

and just to shake it up a bit

let’s go ahead and stay in.

just look at our gorgeous offspring,

weren’t they worth the fumble?

let’s pop on some DIY S.O.S

and raise a toast to Mr Tumble

I’ll just wear my poncho

you’ll just wear your gardening mitts

we can get the M&S meal deal

I’ll even shave my pits

we can light a Yankee candle

Put on the best of Shania Twain

pop a few paracetamol

and knock back some Aldi champagne

didn’t mean it when I said I wished you were dead

so let’s daddy pig get it on,

have children, it’ll be fun they said

quick! let’s do it – while the little gits are gone.






The Tiny Shoe


It’s hard to put my finger

on the moment that we knew

but I think it all came down to

a tiny little shoe


Oh the things that we’ll do

the people that we’ll see

once it resumes to just being

little old you and little old me


we can have actual adults around

have grown up dinner parties

without having to stop between courses

to wipe those little arses


we can have a clean home

i’ll bring in a ‘no shoes’ law

no porridge, dribble and lego

strewn across our floor


we can go to foreign places

to couples only resorts

we can lounge around on cruises

not a single child friendly caravan thought


we can Kondo the shit out of life

be completely organised

we can be ruddy spontaneous

take long relaxing drives


we can eat our dinner in a fancy restaurant

like Sinead once said

without frantically downloading kids’ apps and ssshhhhing

with all the other patrons wishing we were dead


we can have more adult time

swing from the chandeliers

without the theme tune from Balamory

pissing over the romantic atmosphere


we can relax and unwind

sleep in till eleven

when the kids have grown up

well, it’ll just be pure heaven.


But as we were moving

you found one of their tiny shoes

and we sat, all misty eyed

pondering on what to do


see, If we’re honest I don’t think we ever really had much fun

till you arrived

and then your little brother arrived

my son.


we thought that our ‘baby’ days were well and truly done

but now we can’t shake off the thought





another one?


and that’s how we started thinking we might want more than two

God Damn you, you tiny little shoe.