Anthony Cooney Visit @TnGTheBand on twitter.

I don’t recognise this team. We’ve sold the over achievers.

All we have are curds no cream.

Football nightmares not dreams.

Where has the manager gone? He didn’t have a clue.

Although he could spot a bad one.

Just after he had signed one.

The chairman’s putting in money. Bitcoin and pesetas.

Bought some guy from Scunny.

Fat slow and funny.

New managers going 4 by 2. Some wooden defenders.

With wooden boots.

To encourage the terrace abuse.

They sold the centre forward. Last year he reached single figures.

He was therefore rewarded.

He wasn’t what we ordered.

The keepers a free transfer. A giant amongst the ball boys.

He is lacking agility and flair.

Short sighted no hair.

High hopes for the new campaign. I’ve a feeling in my gut.

Caused by cheap cider not champagne.

Propping up the league again.

Anthony your bill is due.

Click the link and enter details.

Gas and electric readings please.

Send us your meter readings.

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Gas and electric readings please

Update your meter readings.

Anthony your bill is due.

Based on previous usage

We are going to raid your bank

Savage all of your savings.

Anthony your bill is due.

Based on previous readings

The bill has now been corrected

You have been disconnected.

Where has my Goldfish gone?

“Back to the sea where it belongs”.

On sunny days when the weather was clear

I went looking for Gold, off Saltburn Pier.

How did it get to the sea?

“I gave it some money for a taxi”.

50 years later and you’re not here.

I think of you,and Gold,off Saltburn Pier.

Sweaty men in too tight shirts.

Pick runners up instead of firsts.

While Girlfriends, wives and glamorous daughters.

Shine like mirrors on North Sea waters.

In Polka dots and fascinators.

Quick smiles and winks and see you laters.

Fahey Easterby Dods and Barron

Lucky trainers to put your money on.

Tudhope, Allan, Hart, and Stott.

Know the course and know what’s what.

Peter Barron, media man.

Interviews, the winning clan.

Best dressed ladies win a prize.

Bright red lips and Prosecco eyes.

Lemon Tops and smiling faces.

Ladies day at Redcar Races

Sirens sound on Durham Road

Maloney, lying, still and cold.

His last call for, the butchers van.

A noisy wasp, towards warm jam.

I point my finger, towards the sin.

The sirens call, draws them in.

Oh Maloney, what a fool.

I remember you from school.

Tough and tall, “don’t mess with him”.

In every town, in every gym.

Heard his voice in the barbers shop.

No singing quartet, an open blade chop.

Got a taste of what you sold.

Sunken eyes, loose rings of gold.

His epitaph said “the life and soul”

Time to drop back in your hole.

Oh Maloney what a fool.

I remember you from school.

Trains and boats and planes

Trains and boats

Boats.

Migrant boats.

That’s all that’s moving.

Row to Rwanda needs approving!!!

Rowing to Rwanda

Priti just might.

Might?

But only if

The price is right.

A vote for every flight.

Long long lines of exhaust fumes.

Not from jets but traffic queues.

Plane spotters, stationary heaven

Off the A66 onto the A67.

Red white, fed up and blue.

Unwilling sun bathers, join the queue.

Aeronautical display

Aeronautical dismay.

Holiday makers drag suitcases

Past the lines of plain angry faces.

We all want our money back.

Tees Valley Mayor dodges incoming flack.

Mahoosive Dinosaur found, on the Isle of Wight.

Rishi’s lost 11 billion. Purse strings not that tight.

4 Million Britons, can buy their council house.

Cant afford petrol or food to feed a mouse.

Supertanskiii asking questions. Boris on the ropes.

Plenty of planes for Rwanda. Airport queues losing hope.

Teesside has an air show. Peter Barrons wrote a book.

Emma Thompsons shed her clothes.

Three mourners treat like crooks.

Tommy Robinson likes a flutter.

I bet you never saw that coming.

Neighbour’s have left the building

Bouncers no longer running.

Crowded House at Scarborough

Mo Salah, footballer of the year.

Jeremy Vines cycling near misses

Durham regatta back this year.

Wizz Air. No Wizzness.

Tired pilots. Scary business.

William. Little tissue.

No home. Big issue.

Afrikaans. Language test.

Ryanair. Unwanted guests?

Storm Arwen. Critical blame

Utility company. Up your game.

Money talks. Irons swing

LIV. Cash is king.

Full tank. £100.00

Can’t afford. To drive around.

Boris Johnson. Darlington station

Beat the strike. Screw the nation.

Ross Atkins.

Analyse.

Who’s covering up.

Who’s drawing lines.

My doors are closed. Nice and tightly.

My windows are open. Onto the balcony.

Where I will wave. Under roaring jets.

At gullible people. In fancy dress.

They wave their flags. I force a smile.

Then dream of Epsom. The last half mile.

I think of my Corgis. Fergus and Muick.

Such little legs. They move so quick.

See my boys in jackets. Heavily adorned.

With many medals. They’ve never earned.

The working royals. Stand to be inspected.

One will hide. One will become infected.

Let the crowd eat burgers. Enjoy the show.

Four days off. Then away you go.

Enjoy the break. Im sure you shall.

Then fuck off home. Back up the Mall.