In 2002, as an alternative means of therapy to excessive drinking and jay-walking in South London traffic, I started writing. At first I kept a journal, noting daily observations and recording a satirical account of my wry and positively cynical views of society and my place within it. A year and two very short stories later, I had discovered my passion for words and particularly poetry. Poems, after all, in my humble opinion, are even shorter short stories… and I'm quite lazy.
My priority has always been to make my writing simple and accessible whilst I lightheartedly describe my experiences of living with Crohn's disease and the endless battles I have with myself as I drift in and out of minimum wage jobs and hospital.
As much on page as on stage, my appeal tends to be to a broader audience, including those who may not consider themselves poetically inclined. Flailing around in the pits of illiteracy, I make up my own words and often misspell or poorly punctuate those that are already in existence. But, with the clichéd excuse of 'poetic license', I continue to scrawl.
George is a poet from Torquay. A few years ago he left a glittering career as a shelf filler for a major supermarket and began to perform his work around the country, which people seem to like.
George has lots of swimming certificates but since he's been defecating into a bag he tends not to swim so much. He has a strong dislike for people sitting next to him on trains whilst he writes and will only attend weddings that have a spit-roasted suckling pig and an unlimited supply of fresh baps.
He has a full driving license with lots of endorsements, a Welcome Host Certificate, seven GCSEs at grade C, Crohn's Disease and, at times, very low self esteem.