"Croeso i ddyfnderoedd fy isymwybod: Welcome to the depths of my subconscious. Shark Fishing in Wales is one man's odyssey to understand the land of his birth through anecdote, observation and reminiscence! By learning about his country, perhaps he can learn more about himself. A process of individuation which Carl Jung suggests we should all go through. Less assuming one nationhood and more working towards one nationhood before we become Independent." Daf Williams
Cymru/Wales: Bipolar Nation
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http://sharkfishinginwales.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/taxes-to-tincture.html "Get all your prescriptions for free" as sung the B...
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https://linktr.ee/lucyreidarts 'I can play the piano' whispered 5-year-old me to our deputy head teacher Mr. Dennis who was s...
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Looking back to the playground of St. Osmund’s RC Primary School in the district of Breightmet in the Lancashire mill town of Bolton I re...
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The mental ill health and emotional sickness epidemic in the UK is directly linked to the above moment. Baby Boomers and Generation X wh...
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KEN FRANE LAST OF THE CARDIFF DOCKS' DETECTIVES Short Story Adventures Why not collect them all? ...
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Six days in to 2020 and I haven't written a blog post yet! I haven't missed a month since January 2012 when this crazy adventure fir...
Sunday 29 April 2018
The Welsh Wyddor
Friday 27 April 2018
Putting the Bugger in Brynbuga
Dwi ddim yn gwybod os ydy o rywbeth i frolio amdano ond dwi 'Y Ffrinj Nuttar' wedi bod yn ymosod ar Carwyn Jones yn eiriol ymhell cyn sefyllfa Sargeant y llynedd. Mor bell nol a 2014 mi roeddwn ni yn ei alw fo 'The Grey Lady' oherwydd ei wep welw a'i ymarferiad o wisgo cotiau mawr du. Yn gorfforol roedd 'na fwy na dwtch o'r Donald Trump amdano. Hollol aneffeithiol fel Prif Weinidog a Gwleidydd faswn ni yn ei alw fo ac yn debyg i sawl arweinydd arall jest yn aros yna am y statws o gael ei alw yn arweinydd. Dos bosib rôl arweinydd/adweinyddes ydy arwain trwy esiampl a dim jest sefyll yna fel dummy siop teiliwr. Maent yn deud fod wythnos yn gyfnod hir yn wleidyddiaeth ond mae mis, neu flwyddyn neu dwy flynedd yn teimlo fel oes. Mi orffennais gerdded llwybr Clawdd Offa yn 2016 y diwrnod cyn y bleidlais Brexit ag ni all neb gwadu fod awyrgylch 'Brand Britain' wedi troi yn wenwynig ers y dydd hwnnw. Mae o fel bod isymwybod hiliol, yr 'island race' wedi dod i'r wyneb gyda rhyddhad o gael gwared â mewnfudwyr gydag un bleidlais. Ewrop oedd y bwgan mawr, yn debyg i ni yng Nghymru gyda Westminster a'r Teulu Brenhinol. Fel un sydd wedi byw yn Lloegr dydy neb yn gwario eiliad yn meddwl amdanon ni ochr arall i'r ffin fandyllog (porous border) ond nol yng Nghymru mae yn teimlo fel brwydr ddyddiol i ddatgan barn am hunaniaeth. Ein Quisling bach 'Alun Cairns' sydd wedi deffro un bore a phenderfynu fod enw newydd i fod ar yr ail Bont Hafren. Tatws Bach i gymharu â beth sydd yn digwydd yn Syria ond rydym ni fel dinasyddion Cymru yn meddwl gallwn ni gwneud rhywbeth am yr ail enwi gan wybod ni allwn newyd y sefyllfa yn Syria. Yn lle treulio amser gofidio am bwy sydd yn mynd i fod yn arweinydd nesaf y Blaid Lafur Cymraeg efallai ddylwn ni dechrau lobio i symud y Cynulliad mor bell i ffwrdd o Gaerdydd ag y Bont newydd ac sydd yn bosib. Aberystwyth yn lle Mark Drakeford, Caernarfon yn lle Eluned Morgan. Mae ein hen Prif Ddinas (ers 1955) wedi troi yn rhyw fath o le dwmpio'r genedl. Ddylswn ni wybod, dwi wedi bod yn pydru yna ers tri degawd bellach. Mae brwydr scwar ganolog wedi ei golli. Mae'r hen 'Temperance Town' wedi troi yn lle intemperate iawn erbyn hyn gyda chefnogwyr Rygbi yn troi yn flin yn ei chwrw. Ydy hwn mwy i wneud gyda chiwio i'r orsaf trenau tybed? Ac roedd Rod Liddle yn iawn tybed yn awgrymu ein bod yn wlad trydydd byd? Os dydych chi ddim wedi symud allan o eich milltir scwar erioed mi fyddwch yn berwi gydag anniddigrwydd dros y cwestiwn yna ond yn anffodus dwi wir yn teimlo fod yr ymateb i hun a sgrifennodd yn y Times wedi dangos ni i fyny fel cenedl croen tenau ofnadwy. Rhyfedd o fyd taw yr Aelod Seneddol Plaid Cymru a gafodd ei eni yn Lloegr sydd wedi ymateb mor chwyrn i eiriau ffwrdd a hi gan y dyn oedd arfer gweithio ar y South Wales Echo. Rydym mor gyflym i ymosod ar ddinasyddion gwledydd eraill sydd yn datgan barn yn ein herbyn ond mae o fel ein bod yn cerdded ar blisg wyau tasa un o ein Cymry honedig yn deud rhywbeth. Mi orffennai yn son am David Davies, Aelod Seneddol Sir Fynwy, y dyn sydd wedi rhoi'r 'Bugger' yn 'Brynbuga'. Drueni fod Aelod Seneddol Dwyfor Meirionydd ddim yn cynrychioli'r hen Sir Gwent. Ar yr un diwrnod maent yn dadorchuddio cofeb yn Abergavenny i gofio am Eisteddfod Genedlaethol lwyddiannus diweddar mae'r Tori sydd wedi mynd i'r fath trafferth o ddysgu Cymraeg yn datgan 'English First' ar arwyddion ffordd. Rhyfedd o fyd indeed!
Thursday 19 April 2018
Keys to the Kingdom
Keys to the Kingdom
forget it folks, the weather's hot and Iceland are aving a Barbecue Promotion
The Prince of Wales Bridge is the Draw Bridge and the Severn Estuary is the Moat.
They tried the Ring of Iron at Flint but the whole of Wales is now a colonised castle and they have just handed over the keys to the BBC who will be broadcasting the Establishment and Westminster Propaganda from Central Square, Caerdydd. With the Anglophile WRU and the HMRC and the Trinity Mirror's Western Mail, the Centre of the Capital City has been tucked up like a kipper. They've done a Wooden Horse Manoevere, they've dropped their quislings and collaborators like Cairns, Carwyn and Ken and with UKIP in the Senedd you have to ask did we subconsciously want this to happen? Have we become addicted to submissive behaviour? Have we forgotten how to fight? I think we know that it is too late unless we are prepared to fight a guerrilla war like Owain Glyndwr. Cardiff is lost, despite the presence of the Eisteddfod and Tafwyl and loads and loads of the comfortably numb and complacent amongst the cyfryngis Cymraeg, nothing is going to change. The BBC are very clever you see because despite giving Welsh Speakers a comfortable living and a sense of self importance they have pulled the wool over our eyes. The viewers and listeners think that they are our saviours broadcasting in "iaith y nefoedd" but they are in fact creating a hell on earth in the long term because despite this bullshit target of 1 million speakers by 2050 we subconsciously know that we are disappearing up our own fundament and that the writing is on the wall for the language "Cofiwch Tryweryn" We are all taking part in a daily charade which is eroding our enaids from the inside out. We have become a soulless people. No longer kind and passionate, now vacuous and cold like the rest of South East England. We have been sold out in front of our own eyes by our own people. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and hoping for a different result so if you think that supporting Wales in the Six Nations and voting Plaid Cymru is going to save Wales then you are a mad c*nt. Take it from me because it takes one to know one. The only thing that can save Wales is an act of God. We need a Spiritual Revolution, A Diwygiad where people en mass, the 37,500 (It's a tidy sum but a mere drop in the ocean compared to the population of Wales)who signed the petition leave their homes on the day that the draw bridge for Castell Cymru is to be renamed and undertake a sit down protest to stop the traffic for as long as it takes for the c*nt Cairns to change his mind.If it means we have to drown him first, then so be it. We cannot put up with this shit any longer. There is no time left. The time is for action and if that means a Civil War, if that means hand to hand street fighting then so be it.
http://sharkfishinginwales.blogspot.co.uk/2017/07/the-militarisation-of-british-wales.html
Tuesday 17 April 2018
To whom this may offend
You've got sucker on your forehead,
Dewsbury and Stalybridge rather than Venice-Simplon.
Second Hand Frigidity
Second Hand Frigidity
Tuesday 10 April 2018
The Wider Silent Majority
Sunday 8 April 2018
The Age of Imperfection
or Wonky for Short
Friday 6 April 2018
Bridge over Tory Waters
I didn't want to make this about ethnicity, it's about class, entitlement and monarchy, unelected monarchy and a little louse called Alun.
The most unpopular boy at school, he must have been bullied mercilessly to end up like this.
Harri Parri is getting married to Meghan Sparkle in May and while the sickly sycophants in their Union Jack underpants can't wait for that one, we the Welsh have to wait another year for this monstrosity.
I name this Bridge "Prince Charles"
Quick dap it!
Neil Hamilton and Dafydd El are going to hell.
That road is paved with good intentions and the best that we can do is a petition.
Non Violent Direct Action?
Fuck It, how about a little violent direct action?
If they proceed then we must plant seed.
Marijuana Leaf painted, Graffiti Tags, Republican tainted.
They have fleeced us and our visitors for the last twenty years, they blow the tolls and present us with the contents of a toilet bowl.
We had no choice with the Principality Stadium and now the Prince of Wales Bridge.
What is it with the letter P?
Do they think we are all pricks?
We watched him getting knighted at Caernarfon Castell and now we have to cross his effing bridge.
In this piece of bad poetry I call upon we to finally act, Wales Must Be Free.
Blow the Bridge, Paint it, Tag it because you rename it and you can effing forget it!
Political Prisoners lining up for nosh at H.M.P Berwyn will sing in perfect four part harmony
" Pont dros dyfnderoedd trafferthus."
Fe Godwn ni Eto
Tuesday 3 April 2018
Back to Work
Come on Theresa, shake that magic money tree.
The possession of cash flow is what divides us.
As long as we have enough to pay the Council Tax at the end of the year because I really want someone to police my bins.
Now sanctimonious prats are calling Basic Income, money for nothing.
I call them rats.
We are born to a country that taxes us as soon as we are old enough.
There is a central pot of money called the Treasury into which many people pay.
I used to do the same I have to say.
But then I got sick of trying, I got sick, a melancholy malady that had been with me, quite possibly from the day I was born.
Now I self stigmatise myself, I treat myself with scorn.
I don't allow anybody close enough to do the same, this working and paying tax, it's all a game.
We all need money to live but not to exist.
At the Government we all raise our fist.
Mark Twain said that the world didn't owe us a living, I don't think that is very forgiving.
Everything comes with conditions.
If there was enough quality work about then many of us wouldn't shirk but working for the existing wage?
I'm sick but not a berk.
This work/life condundrum is getting really humdrum, to the point I can't think about anything else.
CV, Interview, Suit to do what kind of job?
I feel like a ghost moving through the Queen Street Shoppers.
Badly dressed, unimpressed.
It is the gaze of the female I try to avoid.
Rightly or Wrongly I feel that they judge me.
Not hunter nor gatherer, just a bad poet carrying a locket of my mother's hair.
In Limbo Land heavy wooden blocks of progress cannot be shifted.
By the time I started my first job my father had retired.
I came back from selling print in Llangollen and cried.
It's all very well being 'pleidiol wyf i'm gwlad' but there are no fucking jobs here.
So over the porous border we troop so we can eat something more nourishing than soup.
Liverpool, Manchester or Bristol
If I had the balls I'd blow my brains out with an antiquarian flint lock pistol.
Monday 2 April 2018
Don't Stare! Care!
Zionist Unionists
Facebook Trolls
Anti Semitic? This takes the Biscuit.
The Establishment are out to destroy JC.
Murdoch writes drivel with his cock
Alan Sugar puts a lead weight in his sock.
When people with power know that their days are numbered, they awaken from their slumber and attack the man who is going to tax em.
So this will be relentless, the closer we get to Brexit.
Davis will be holding his nuts till next May.
Johnson, the most undiplomatic boor since records began.
And what about us, the rude poor.
The eulogised working class ain't got no sass.
We should care but we just stare.
We drink our Latte, maybe join a foam party.
Surrounded by charred concrete, we find it difficult to get to sleep.
Jesus Christ, on the day of Resurrection, it makes you weep.
We are reminded that we are the only critical mass never to have revolted.
Once in 5 years we are proud to say we voted.
Betting Shops, Alcohol Laced Cough Drops, The Lottery and Bonus Ball is like a Primeval Call.
Ant was trying to get out of his pact with Dec for many years but we were just too blind to see it because you see we don't really care, we just stare.
We stare from the porch of our home to see if anyone else has parked in our zone.
Territorial tae fuck, you wanna ruck?
In my bigger car, I say on Bluetooth "oh Zoe you're a star"
Shallowness and artificiality shall follow me all the days of my life until I get me a trophy wife then unemployed shall beget unemployed.
There's six generations haven't worked in this house.
Don't blame me, blame the coal board.
A Samurai sword swishes through the air and a newly sworn in PCSO is sent to investigate. He only gets as far as the gate.
He is tasered and battered in a revenge attack.
He is dragged inside and placed on a rack. The balaclava headed incumbent says
"Watch this Mon brave"
He has stitched together a montage of police brutality through the ages, most of it from the States, the Part Time Police Officer is offered an After Eight.
Back at the Station he shouts at the Duty Officer.
"Don't stare, care"
Our Televisions are Bigger,
Royalty getting larger
Will Harry and Meghan have a guard of honour from Eton?
The bullies from the Bullingdon looking like something from a Kubrick film.
Giving the homeless a gentle nudge as they eat their fudge and prosecco.
Fuck me there is a lot to get angry about.
Much of it a figment of my imagination, no doubt.
As I bring this bad poem to a grinding halt unlike a screenplay by Sir Robert Bolt, I make this plea to the lower middle class.
Next time something matters, don't usher your children to bed.
Don't run back down your stairs to stare.
Please Care!
The fact is, the poet does not want admiration, he wants to be believed.
— Jean Cocteau Quotes (@CocteauQuotes) September 21, 2020
I am a poet dahling not a paramedic
I have not written a blog post in the month of April 2024 yet and it is the 22nd already. As I type this I do not know what I am going to ...
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Bottom of the Ottoman
Bottom of the Ottoman from David Williams on Vimeo.
Crying in your Beer from David Williams on Vimeo.
Hitler navigates the A487 from Aberaeron to Aberystwyth
I shall never wear tweeds from David Williams on Vimeo.