The Luckiest Guy Alive

Product Information

I started out with a book by British poet John Cooper Clarke. I've seen Clarke several times as the Dictionary Corner guest on 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown, and I always really enjoy him. It took me a while to get one of his books, though, since it seems that his focus is mostly in spoken word performance rather than published work. This turns out to make a lot of sense because his poetry absolutely BEGS to be read aloud. There is something about his word choices and the way he strings them together that I find extremely enticing. A lot of the poems are fun, if not profound, although they're mostly pretty sound (There, a little poem in a review for you, even had a rhyme) When the New York Giants, a team you would give your right arm to beat, and vice versa, sends you a gift - that's something. When everybody down to the groundskeepers and those boys in white coats remember you with trophies - that's something. When you have a wonderful mother-in-law who takes sides with you in squabbles with her own daughter - that's something. When you have a father and a mother who work all their lives so you can have an education and build your body - it's a blessing. When you have a wife who has been a tower of strength and shown more courage than you dreamed existed - that's the finest I know. That trip up to Manchester was a chance to once again tour his French wife of 30 years around his formative haunts. The book does a magical job of capturing the time and place of his growing up in a high-ceilinged flat carved out of what was once an Italianate villa – “slums to anyone who didn’t live in them” – beside the junction of two of Manchester’s busiest roads. It was a tough place, but clearly in his eyes, I suggest, full of a certain urban glamour?

Crossing The Floor, another particular favourite, is more contentious; it caused one Goodreads reviewer to become so enraged that he decided he'd put the book in the bin, rather than donate it to a charity shop where it would at least have done some good. The reviewer condemns the poem as offensively transphobic, but imo he completely misses the point. In his typically mordant style, JCC tells the story of a man who's just fed up with being a man and doing 'man' things, and wants to dress as a woman instead - but he doesn't sound 100% committed, and he's very realistic: Not all the poems are as good as this, of course. There are one or two that read as mildly homophobic or transphobic (nothing outright, really, but I noticed regardless) and some that I maybe don't get because they're more specific to Britain. However, for the most part, I enjoyed this little book quite a lot. His sense of humor is biting and slightly dark, which suits me right down to the ground, and his way of playing with language is just...fun. I also enjoyed “I’ve Fallen in Love with My Wife,” written in 11 stanzas, most ending with the title. It begins,

On the whole, I'd recommend this to anyone who enjoys modern poetry, though I'd also suggest searching out some recordings of him performing his own work as well since that's the way it's really meant to be consumed. As a "30 for 30" installment, the docuseries is beholden to filling hour-long episodes, so this one gives you everything. James develops an emotional narrative that will be most moving for those who don’t know the full story—like the revelation of how Walton became a sportscaster after decades of hiding from public speaking. But it’s also for those who appreciate gameplay technique, told by its main players recalling some of the biggest days of their lives.

Fidel has survived his cigar being poisoned, exploding cigars, radio laced with LSD, hidden poisonous hypodermic needles filled with lethal concoctions, among a lot more things.The odds of getting hit by lightning is 1 in 12,000. But for blind and deaf 62-year-old Edwin E. Robinson, those odds rose to 100 percent. Three years after that, in 1966, a bus he was riding in skid off the road into a river, drowning four of the passengers. Selak, however, swam safely to the shore and only sustained a few cuts and bruises. Two years later, in what was arguably one of his weirdest reasons for almost dying, while trying to teach his son how to hold a gun, he hadn’t realized the safety was off and ended up shooting himself in the testicles. He lived, though his testicles did not. Then, in 1970 and 1973, he got into accidents where the car ended up catching fire. Aside from a few singed hairs, he managed to get out of both predicaments absolutely unharmed, again.

JCC: The worst poet that ever lived apparently? People used to throw dust at him in the street. He was so bad, was he? But I think he invented a new style – he was just ahead of the game. He was the rapper – you know part of the style of rap is to wear out every possible rhyme and I think he invented that. Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte was born the son of a French lawyer in 1763, but died as King of Sweden—mostly because he was a nice guy. Bernadotte had a lengthy military career and turbulent relationship with Napoleon that saw him leading military campaigns through Germany and Italy. While there, he kept a handle on his troops, refusing to allow looting and theft, which gained Bernadotte respect from his adversaries, though later unsuccessful battles in Bernadotte’s career led to distrust from Parisian politicians in the early 1800s. In 1810, an ill and childless King Charles XIII led Sweden to conduct a star-search of sorts for an heir, and Bernadotte was offered the role of Sweden’s crown prince. Bernadotte was selected because of his military experience, but also due to the kindness and restraint he showed to Swedish solders during his military campaigns. Bernadotte adopted the name Charles XIV John and led Sweden following Charles XIII’s death in 1818 until his own death in 1844. 7. LEONARD THOMPSON The first time he was on the verge of death was on a cold January day in 1962, when he was traveling by train to Dubrovnik. The train suddenly derailed in a frozen river, killing 17 passengers. He managed to escape with only a broken hand, a few scratches, and bruises. In 1995, Swedish woman Lena Pahlsson set aside her wedding ring to do some Christmas baking. But when she went to return it to its rightful place on her finger, she discovered it was gone. After years of searching, she and her husband came to the conclusion that the ring was lost forever. That is, until 2012, nearly 16 years later, when Lena found something waiting for her in her garden.

Follow us on:

What impresses me the most about his poetry, and by extension this book, is how artistic his artlessness is. Clarke writes with the same fervour as anyone who loves producing doggerel for the masses, but these works aren't just throwaway poems. He understands and applies the underpinning skills of a great poet. His sprung rhymes cascade down with unrelenting glee, and he can bring his unique poetic voice to themes big and small. "I've Fallen in Love with my Wife' is a most romantic paean to the ordinariness of marital life, whilst 'Bongo's Trousers' is a catchy piece of satirical poetry that definitely deflates the wankery of celebrities who try and lecture people about poverty and social justice. His 'Haiku No.1' should be taught to every student trying to wrap their head around the form and 'Pies' is (like so many of his other works) a masterpiece of technique with a big dash of humour. Still, the doc’s most moving passages involve the present day, an epilogue for an on-the-court career that has an older Walton showing us around sunny Portland. He points out the home that he shared with fellow radicals (he put a water bed on the roof), and meets high school-age basketball players who are honing their skills on the same court he used. His parting advice to them is hilariously anti-modern basketball commercialism: “No sodas.” In 1970, and 1973 he got into accidents where his car caught fire. Apart from singed hair, Selak managed to get out of the situation absolutely unharmed, again.