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John Osborne

Last week I went to see Literary Death Match, an event where authors have a quick seven minute reading slot in which to show their writing and speaking prowess. One guy who stood out was Norwich’s John Osborne, a poet who’s sense of timing really lifted proceedings. Although not online as yet, we’ve got an exclusive extract from his book What if Men Burst in Wearing Balaclavas? – a poem about his ex-girlfriend using no vowels apart from the letter ‘e’. Hilarious.

My ex

We met when we were teens
she lent me her GCSE set texts.
Jenny’s freckled cheeks were pretty,
perfect teeth, jewelled belly, sexy legs.

The weekends seemed endless when we were seventeen,
Jenny’s excellent between the sheets, edgy
her PCV dress left me endlessly erect
she’d bend her knees
tenderly chew my bell end

then cry.
She deserved better.
She rejected me, tells me she detested me
tells me she needed her eyes tested.
She left me empty, bereft.
Depressed, my CDs helped me:
Shed Seven, Sleeper, The Levellers, Gene,
Led Zep, Neneh Cherry, The The, R Kelly, Wet Wet Wet
Kenny G,

Des’ree. Step by step my self esteem grew
then recently she tweeted me
‘Remember when we were seventeen
when we screwed by KFC then fled when we’d been seen by CCTV
let’s meet!’ she begged
‘Hmmm’ je pense
Jenny Green my sexy ex
relentless sex pest, zesty nymph
demented pervert.