folkestone sky‘For Free’ by Zoolon

The brainwasher wearing the grey suit that sparkled said he drove an Audi Quattro. He asked what I drove. I lied and said a skateboard. He asked why I didn’t wear, “A smart suit like mine”. I couldn’t be bothered to answer.  Also, he looked like someone who might end up on a #metoo rap. Maybe that was a bit harsh, maybe not. Later he mentioned that when he sees a door, he sees an ‘entrance’. When he spoke he acted as if he knew something no one else knew.

“What do you see when you see a door, George?”

I was going to say, ‘A door’ but said, “An exit” instead. He told me that was a negative reply. Probably was.

Outside his office, a giant office full of ethically sourced takeaway coffee cups and stressed people looking like they wanted to end it all, I noticed a fire exit door. I thought I’d like to have seen the brainwasher in the grey suit that sparkled try that door out as an entrance. Maybe my answer wasn’t so negative after all.

Out in the street just up from the office in front of a private house a white van pulled up at the same time a lady in a grey tracksuit that didn’t sparkle came out to greet the driver. A fat bloke in trainers. She apologized for collaring me before asking if I could give the van driver a hand carrying the door he was delivering upstairs. Said it was too heavy for him to carry and that she wasn’t strong enough to help. She hadn’t brushed her hair and only had one slipper on. Odd. The toenails on the foot without a slipper were, I think, painted lime green. I’m not good with colours. Anyway, I said OK, thinking all the time that this must be ‘The Day of the Door’.

The door wasn’t that heavy. Neat house inside. Now in her smart kitchen both her black cats left via the cat flap ‘exit’, reinforcing the positivity of my ‘exit’ theory of doors.

I noticed she’d brushed her hair and found her other slipper when she thanked me for helping out, offering  me a smile, a fiver and a slice of wedding cake (?). I would have settled for the smile but she insisted I take the fiver. I took the fiver, not the wedding cake.

She told me her name was Mandy, after Barry Manilow. I said nothing but thought if she’s been named after Barry Manilow then logically her name should have been Barry. I suppose I could have said my name is George, after Lana Del Ray but though better of it.

I wonder what Mandy sees when she sees a door. I never asked, maybe I should have. I guess todays song should have been dedicated to Mandy, but it’s not. This one is for Mr Brainwasher, it’s called ‘Delusional Troll’. I hope you enjoy;

There’s a new album close to completion. It’ll be out there very soon. Below, my current albums available on Bandcamp;

Copyright © 2018 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.




Pictures by mike 050

‘Une Grotte Quelque Part en Normandie’ by Zoolon

The little old bloke with the peaked cap walks the main road into town each day. He carries a big bag and picks up all the street rubbish. He never wears gloves. He’s round-shouldered and his trousers are too short. He doesn’t speak to anyone. He just swears to himself. I saw him again this morning. He was mumbling ‘bastards’ on a loop.

A bit further down road is a bus stop. There’s not a lot of call for it. It’s only two short stops away from the depot. Only people with walking sticks or don’t like walking wait there.

The girl with a Swastika tattoo on her neck had an old moped last week. This week she has a brand new Lambretta. It sounds like a swarm of angry bees. Maybe a bit smoother than that. Her moped used to sound like C-3PO with a chesty cough. She doesn’t do crash helmets. If ever people are waiting at the bus stop and there’s a massive puddle kerbside she aims at it and puts two-fingers up as she soaks them on her drive-by. I don’t know how that’s going to pan out now she has a Lambretta.

Opposite the doctors surgery, further down, a double-fronted Victorian lump. It doubles up as a knocking shop. That’s what I was told anyway. I had to ask what one of those was. I should have worked it out myself. It’s probably true that it is a knocking shop. A pretty pissed off girl – I think ‘pretty’ works both ways with this one – in just her dressing down rushed out of the front door, down the steps holding a massive kitchen knife. She shouts in a language I don’t know. The bloke she was chasing was now on the other side of the road. Running. He looked English. Most likely he is. She gave up the chase. I guess he never paid. Odd thing to see at 9am.

Further down, closer to the town centre, there’s the bloke with the two golden retrievers. I see him most days. The dogs each have a newspaper in their mouths. They always do. Makes them feel special. They are.

Just past the railway station there’s a giant horse chestnut tree. The Christian’s, an older bloke in a long black coat and a girl dressed like she’s time travelled here from a hundred years ago, stand under it handing out A5 glossy leaflets. I didn’t take one. They seem happy enough, even though it’s a cold day. A few weeks back when the conkers were falling off the tree they gave handing out leaflets a miss.

When I get to the post office a sweet little old lady is just exiting. I hold the heavy door open for her. She looks up at me, grabs the sleeve of my hoodie.  Holds it tight as old hands can. Says, “No one does that anymore.” I say, “What?” thinking I might have done something wrong. She tells me that she likes it when a gentleman holds the door open for her. “Good manners” she says. Then I get what she meant. She gives me a whiter than white dentures Hollywood smile, squeezes the back of my hand like she’s ‘Super Old Lady’ then wanders off. An angel? I reckon so. I’ve never been called a gentleman before. Today’s song, ‘All Winter Long’ is for her. It’s the first track on my Rainbows End album. Hope you enjoy.

My albums on sale at Bandcamp;

Copyright © 2017 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.



(A view of France from England I took yesterday including my mother who ended up paying for my breakfast a little earlier – she should have realized I don’t carry cash or remember pin numbers)

Walking around town today looking at people just getting on with their different lives it reminded me to give this one an outing. I’ve a new song to post soon that is based on this, although the lyric version has been adapted for the melody. This is the raw version.


Bare lightbulb poverty

Barefoot, no ambition

TV, PC, stolen acquisition

Earth mothers and open mouths

Kentucky Fried Central

Finger food romance

Staffie, no name tag, no leash

Move on, nothing to see here

Love in a gravy stained tracksuit

Life in a gravy stained tracksuit

Street fighting stained tracksuit

Move on, nothing to see here

Friday’s coke snorting genius

World News? Brain in gear news?

Who? What? When? Where?

Never ask Why? Never why

Indifferent indifference

Move on, nothing to see here

Really is, nothing to see here

Move on

Just go


If I could change the world

I’d unlock the poison door

Give people eyes that see

Not eyes that just look

Not eyes that turn away

Not eyes that can’t speak

Better blind than that

Nothing to see here 


Time for some music. With the new album on the way, and new videos for my YouTube channel also on the way, a last outing for the time being of my classical music vid, ‘Requiem for a Ghost’. If you’ve not heard it before, I hope you enjoy – if you have heard it already I hope you don’t mind this reprise;

Time for one from the ‘Sacred Hearts Club’ album from favourite musician, Foster the People. A song called ‘Sit Next to Me’.

This doesn’t apply to Foster the People, just my stuff – Copyright © 2016 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorized copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.