Newsletter – November 2026

News

Dear learned logophile,

Exciting news! This month’s newsletter is brought to you courtesy of a groundbreaking new collaboration with the English language. Over the coming paragraphs, I shall be laying out a salivatory smorgasbord of verbs, nouns, adjectives, pronouns, adverbs, prepositions and conjunctions: a feast of words on which to graze and ruminate, nibble and gnaw, or possibly just choke and retch. Some may be mysterious or mellifluous:

My Favourite Words

Pipette and plectrum, obumbrate and flimsy,
balderdash, spatchcock, flapdoodle and whimsy,
obnubilation and nontrepreneur –
these are a few of my favourite words.

Sachet, humdudgeon, haboob, hurly-burly,
scroddled and dottle, goluptious and surly,
mumpsimus, tawdry, decumbent and blurb –
these are a few of my favourite words.

Susurrus, zephyr, rubescent, boondoggle,
reboant, gaggle, hubris and hornswoggle,
plethora, refulgent, plinth and perturb –
these are a few of my favourite words.

When the rose droops
When the branch snags
When I’m lachrymose
I simply remember my favourite words
and then I don’t feel morose.

But please be assured that this newsletter will not restrict itself to flashy, showboating words of the kind featured in the poem above. There’s a place here, too, for the hardworking toilers of the English language: those words which go about their everyday business without flamboyance, the load-carrying carthorses plodding their path in quiet stoicism, barely noticed, while their fancy dan associates grab all the glory.

In Praise of “The”

How do I love “the”? Let me count the ways.
I love how you always know your own mind.
Steadfast and certain, you’re one of a kind,
Yet under the radar; rare is the praise
That comes your way in spite of your presence
In seven percent of all printed words.
You give me context and make life less blurred.
I love your candour, your selfless essence.
You’re too particular claim your critics –
An assertion I find most farcical.
If you were not there to be specific,
Our language would become anarchical.
“The”, I love you – I think you’re terrific.
For me, you’re the definite article.

There may be certain readers of this newsletter who have begun to take umbrage. Those who may have decided to overlook the spelling of ‘favourite’ in that first poem, but who can no longer turn a blind eye to the spelling of ‘candour’ in the one that followed. I apologise for that but it’s simply not possible to please all of the people all of the time – and besides, I have never quite forgiven you for ruining my streak on Wordle.

On Discovering the Wordle Solution
to be ‘FAVOR’

Americans,
I have some news to report.

I have done the ‘math’
and you’re one letter short.

That extra letter
gives it colour and flavour.

Yours, with candour,
An affectionate neighbour.

Words can be tricky customers, however. I find them much easier when I get a chance to think about them first, then write them down. That’s why words are the ideal format for an email newsletter. If I had to tell you my news in person, I doubt it would go very well. I’d jabber and gibber, blather and blither, gabble and chunter. Also, it would also take me ages to get around and visit all of you. It’d be expensive, too. Yes, the more I think about it, the more impractical and foolish that whole idea seems. I’ll stick to email.

Words

Words are absurd.
They can stick in your throat,
particularly the ones
you can’t get in edgeways.

Words can teeter on tenterhooks
or on the tip of your tongue
(until someone comes to take them
right out of your mouth).

Sometimes you can even have a word
in someone’s ear.
If it was a long word – like onomatopoeia –
they might struggle to hear.

Words can be blurred.
Words can be slurred.
Words can be misheard
and listeners deterred.

Words can fail you,
utterly.

Autumn Tour Q&A (cont’d)

You may have noticed that there isn’t much ‘news’ in this newsletter. That’s because I’m still on tour. My news consists mainly of train timetables and what flavour/flavor of crisps/chips I plumped for as part of my supermarket meal deal. To my surprise, however, questions are still coming in about my autumn tour.

Q. I saw you reading poems on stage from a book with butterflies on the cover. What’s it called – and can I get a copy?

A. It’s called my notebook. And no, you can’t have it.

Q. I am coming to see you in Liverpool on 28th November. How will I know it’s you on stage given there are so few photos of you in circulation?

A. Please be assured that all shows on this tour will be performed by an officially-approved Brian Bilston. There are currently twelve such Brian Bilstons operating on the poetry circuit in the UK. All have been trained to meet required performance standards and are compliant with recent changes to poetry legislation.

Q. Will you be doing any more UK dates on your ‘How to Lay an Egg with a Horse Inside Tour’ after December?

A. I’ll be having a break from touring for the first few months of next year as I need to crack on with some writing. But I will be announcing 15 new shows across April and May 2027 in my next newsletter.

Q. This is nothing to do with your tour as it belongs in the first section of your newsletter about words, but please can you include that poem with the lines which start with each letter of the alphabet?

A. Okay then.

An Attempt to Write an Abecedarian
Poem in Praise of the Dictionary

An unfaltering ability to
Bring clarity to the English language
Constitutes your
Defining quality.
Ever since the day we
First met and I
Giggled at the rude words
Hidden among your pages,
I adored you,
Jubilant in the
Knowledge that things were
Looking up. You offered me the
Meaning of life,
Not to mention the meaning of all those
Other words, too.
Perfect at settling Scrabble board
Quarrels, your judgement
Reigns supreme. I
Sift you daily, panning for words in
The hope of penning the
Ultimate – the greatest poem this
Vast world has ever seen, but
Whoa, here comes the
X, and oh, alphabet, how could you, I knew
You’d get the better of me
Zooner or later.

Q. Will this newsletter contain a list of all the shows you’ll be doing over the next couple of months?

A. Fantastic question. Yes, it will.

November

4th: WORTHING: Pavilion Tickets
6th: BELLAGHY: Seamus Heaney HomePlace SOLD OUT
7th: BELLAGHY: Seamus Heaney HomePlace SOLD OUT
11th: LEEDS: City Varieties  Last Few Tickets
12th: SUNDERLAND: The Fire Station Tickets
13th: HELMSLEY: Arts Centre SOLD OUT
14th: POCKLINGTON: Arts Centre SOLD OUT
15th: SHEFFIELD: Memorial Hall Tickets
18th: OXFORD: The North Wall SOLD OUT
19th: STROUD: Sub Rooms Last Few Tickets
20th: BRIDPORT: Electric Palace Tickets
21st: EXETER: Corn Exchange Last Few Tickets
22nd: BUDE: The Parkhouse Centre Tickets
25th: NEWARK: Palace Theatre Last Few Tickets
26th: BAKEWELL: Town Hall SOLD OUT
27th: CHORLEY: Chorley Theatre SOLD OUT
28th: LIVERPOOL: Tung Auditorium Last Few Tickets
30th: BRISTOL: St George’s Last Few Tickets

December

1st: CARDIFF: Glee Club Tickets
4th: LONDON: Union Chapel Last Few Tickets

And finally …

Don’t worry, that’s probably enough words for one month. It seems only fitting, however, to finish with this:


The Zebra is not the only Creature
whose Name begins with a Z

“Zyzzyva!” he shouted.
The slam of the front door was heard.

What a weevil, she thought –
he always had to have the last word.*

Until next month,
Brian

*Not only is ‘zyzzyva’ a type of South American weevil, found mainly on palm trees, it is also the last word in the dictionary. Unless you’ve falling off to sleep reading this newsletter: zzzzzzzzzz

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Newsletter – October 2026

News

Dear fellow traveller,

If life is a journey, why do I have to spend so much of it sitting on a bench at Abergavenny railway station? That’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot recently, particularly during the three hours I spent sitting on a bench at Abergavenny railway station. Not that there’s anything wrong with Abergavenny railway station. The toilets are cleaned regularly. The Whistle Stop cafe serves a delicious egg bap. There is a splendid view of Blorenge, the magnificent, flat-topped hill which has served for centuries as the go-to geological landmark for all poets in search of a rhyme for ‘orange’. 

With all that time on my hands, it’s no wonder I was given to a little introspection:

Lines Written While Waiting for a Train
at a Provincial Railway Station

If I could have my time over,
I would do it all differently
and not treat each precious moment
with such disregard and flippancy.

I would use my time effectively,
I would think ahead and plan.
I would reserve my stores of energy,
and take charge when I can.

But it’s too late in the journey
for regret, too late to repent –
because there’s not a socket in sight
and my battery’s on one per ce

It’s my own fault, I suppose – because, like a lot of poets, I don’t know how to drive a car. I tend to see myself as one of life’s eternal passengers, more of an onlooker than an active participant, powerless to intervene in human affairs directly: like the classical Greek god Zeus in the age of late antiquity, or indeed the Tory Party today. As a result, I am reliant on public transport to make my way around the country and that rarely ends well. But it does at least furnish me with a number of good excuses for turning up late – or not all.

I would like to apologise for the delay

I would like to apologise for the delay
in coming to work today.
This is due to a signalling failure
between my primary motor cortex and pyramidal motor pathway.
I shall remain here instead,
sidelined in bed,
until further notice.

I would like to apologise for the delay
in going for a run today
This is due to leaves on the tracksuit
I wore last week,
during my unsuccessful attempt to bury myself
in a coppiced wood.
I would still be there now, if I could.

I would like to apologise for the delay
in joining your skiing holiday.
This is due to the wrong kind of snow,
which, as far as I’m concerned, is any kind of snow
that encourages people
to hurtle down slopes, at speed,
on skis.

I would like to apologise for the delay
in taking part in life today.
This is due to delays.

To be clear, I am not denying that life is a kind of journey. Like all truisms, it contains some truth. But also typical of truisms, it’s an unhelpful simplification. It’s a statement that doesn’t really take into account the long delays and cancellations, the missed connections and invalid tickets, the broken down engines and rail replacement services; in other words, all the time we spend not getting anywhere, hanging around, kicking our heels. Oh, and while we’re on the subject of kicking our heels …

Over My Dead Body

I cut off my nose
to spite my face.

In revenge, my face
took up arms
against my legs

and yet, all the while
my feet were killing me.

It’s okay by me to find myself not getting anywhere. I don’t always want progression in my life or the feeling that I’m moving on – unless I’ve got to be in Aberystwyth by seven o’clock that is, and it’s already after four and the Whistle Stop Cafe is about to close. Similarly, I’m not that interested in self-improvement, setting and achieving goals, being the best person I can possibly be. It all sounds a little bit tiring, to be honest. Most times, I’m just happy to hang around and crack on quietly with a bit of existing. I’m like an aspidistra: low maintenance, with the ability to thrive in a dark corner or draughty hallway. And like the life journey of an aspidistra, it’s less about where I might be heading, but the fronds I make along the way. 

Journey of Self-Discovery

Dave decided to travel the world
in the hope he might find himself –
from Manhattan to the Matterhorn,
from Guatemala to Guelph.

He went donkey-trekking across Peru,
to a Buddhist retreat in Kathmandu,
the north, the east, the west, the south,
Dave went every way which but Laos,

but of himself, he found not one trace.
In the end, he gave up the chase
after another false trail in Madagascar.
Back home, he found himself working in Asda.

Autumn Tour Q&A (cont’d)

All this musing about life and journeys and whatnot is probably happening because I’m out on the road a lot at the moment. I’m ten shows into my marathon autumn tour, with only a paltry thirty-five to go. The questions continue to mount up about why I am doing this. Here are some attempts to answer them.

Q. I’ve not been to a poetry show before. What can I expect?

A. Poems.

Q. Will you be reading any bits from ‘Notes from a Small Island’?

A. No. I believe you may have got me mixed up with Bill Bryson.

Q. Scotland?

A. That’s not really a question, is it? It’s just the name of a country to which you have appended a question mark. Please try again.

Q. Okay, will you be coming to Scotland?

A. Thank you, that’s much better. Yes, I will be coming to Scotland, from 22nd to 24th October and reading poems in Glasgow, Aberdeen and Stirling respectively.

Q. Will you be reading this poem on your tour?:

Brie Encounter

the skies are gruyere since she left me
i’ve never felt so danish blue
caught between a roquefort and a hard cheese,
i stilton’t know what to do

i don’t give edam about the future
now my babybel’s walked out the door
i can’t believe i’ve double gloucester
i camembert it any more

i’ve ricotta get myself together
and build my life back caerphilly
cheddar tear for the final time
say goodbye to us and halloumi

A. No.

Q. I saw you in Aberystwyth. You were amazing, Please can you let me know all the other shows you’ll be doing this autumn as I would like to travel around the country and see you at all of them, but not in a creepy, stalkerish way. 

A. Okay, I suppose so …

October

7th: CROYDON: Fairfield Ashcroft Theatre  Tickets
8th: DEAL: Astor Theatre SOLD OUT 
9th: NORWICH: The Halls  Tickets
10th: COLCHESTER: Arts Centre  SOLD OUT
14th: LOUGHBOROUGH: MMC  SOLD OUT
15th: MANCHESTER: Stoller Hall  Tickets
16th: ULVERSTON: Coronation Hall  Tickets
21st: KIDDERMINSTER: Town Hall  Tickets
22nd: GLASGOW: Mackintosh Queen’s Cross  Tickets
23rd: ABERDEEN: The Lemon Tree  Tickets
24th: STIRLING: Tolbooth SOLD OUT 
28th: STAMFORD: Corn Exchange  Tickets
29th: BURY ST EDMUNDS: The Apex  Last Few Tickets
30th: CORSHAM: Pound Arts Centre  SOLD OUT  
31st: OXFORD: The North Wall  SOLD OUT

November

4th: WORTHING: Pavilion  Tickets
6th: BELLAGHY: Seamus Heaney HomePlace SOLD OUT
7th: BELLAGHY: Seamus Heaney HomePlace SOLD OUT
11th: LEEDS: City Varieties  Last Few Tickets
12th: SUNDERLAND: The Fire Station  Tickets
13th: HELMSLEY: Arts Centre SOLD OUT
14th: POCKLINGTON: Arts Centre SOLD OUT
15th: SHEFFIELD: Memorial Hall  Tickets
18th: OXFORD: The North Wall  SOLD OUT
19th: STROUD: Sub Rooms  Last Few Tickets
20th: BRIDPORT: Electric Palace  Tickets
21st: EXETER: Corn Exchange  Last Few Tickets
22nd: BUDE: The Parkhouse Centre  Tickets
25th: NEWARK: Palace Theatre  Last Few Tickets
26th: BAKEWELL: Town Hall  SOLD OUT
27th: CHORLEY: Chorley Theatre SOLD OUT 
28th: LIVERPOOL: Tung Auditorium  Last Few Tickets
30th: BRISTOL: St George’s  Last Few Tickets

December

1st: CARDIFF: Glee Club  Tickets
4th: LONDON: Union Chapel  Last Few Tickets

And finally … 

We not only journey through space but time, too. The next newsletter will hopefully emerge in early November, once October has been knockedover. Along the way, we will pass Halloween, so let’s finish with a short poem here in anticipation of that, which may – or may not – be inspired by a certain head of state. 


Pumpkin

was what she called him
because she knew
he had always held a candle for her

that his head was huge,
fleshy and orange
were further contributory factors

Until next month,
Brian

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Poem, revised draft

Selected poems

Poem, Revised Draft

I had to write this poem again.
I left the first draft on the train
and now it doesn’t look the same.

The original was a paean to Love,
to Truth and Beauty; it soared above
the everyday and all that stuff.

It would have healed estranged lovers’ rifts,
stilled the sands on which time shifts
and stopped the world before it drifts

further into quagmired crisis.
It was an open heart. It wore disguises.
It employed ingenious literary devices.

I have tried my hardest to recall
its words and rhythms, the rise and fall
of those lines upon their cadenced crawl

through the English language.
But it has only caused me pain and anguish
for there was little I could salvage.

It certainly didn’t end with a line like this.

An attempt to write a poem in real time while travelling on a train

Selected poems

Scenes from a Train Window

A pylon looms like a sini-
Two birds puncture the late afternoon blue as th-
Cows stare into the distance and wonde-
Fields sleep drowsily, waiting for-
Buddleia bubbles up along the tr-
A woman waves at her youn-
Some buildings.
Graffiti.
Wolverhampton railway station.

Newsletter – September 2026

News

Dear doughty subscriber,

Summer is over. Or at least it is for those who subscribe to a meteorological definition of the seasons. Those of a more astronomical bent still have a couple of weeks of summer remaining, presumably to make hay while the sun shines; unless, that is, they’ve already made their hay in late June when climactic conditions are optimal for such an activity. Meanwhile antipodean types are blowing out their cheeks and preparing to inform me that it’s winter or spring, or some such, I don’t know, it’s a long way from where I am right now, this time stuff is hard, and everyone seems to have an opinion.

There is, however, one thing at least we can all agree upon: it is now September*. 

Poem

the calendar flipped
with a gust
of air and with august
no longer there,

in swept the song
of spry September
with its breezy back-to-school
septimbre

* with the exception of those countries whose temporal systems do not conform to the Gregorian calendar.

Regardless, time is passing, another year is speeding by, and the hidden cameras have yet to clock it. 

Toby

It would soon be January again.

She did not know where the year had gone.

Eventually she found it
hidden away
in an old shoebox
under the bed,
along with 1997
and 2005.

Toby.
He had taken the best years of her life.


That poem comes from my first collection, You Took the Last Bus Home which – in another trick of time – celebrates its tenth birthday this month. I’ve been sharing poems from this book on social media over the last week or so – many of which are short and quite silly, indicative of their origin on Twitter, created in more innocent times when only one tweet in four on that platform was overtly racist.

I had no ambition to see my poems in print; they were written mainly to amuse myself or to distract from work (I used to have a proper job) and other burdens of being a grown-up. But then a crowd-funding publisher came along, suggested I scoop them up into something resembling a book and see whether anyone might be vaguely interested in the project. To my amazement and eternal gratitude, several hundred people were. The book got published and has somehow gone on to sell over 60,000 copies. It was a life-changing moment for me, not dissimilar from that experienced by Vince in another of the poems in the collection:

Invincible Vince

The day he got
the neck brace,
life changed for Vince

and he’s never really
looked back since.

Fringe Benefits

Thank to everyone who came along to my shows in Edinburgh at the end of last month. The whole experience was a joy, not least because I got to see lots of brilliant shows, including David O’Doherty, Spencer Jones, Daniel Cainer, and Flo & Joan. Another real highlight was Rob Auton’s show Jupiter, in which he plays the role of an estate agent on the planet Jupiter. He’s touring with it next year and a list of his dates is here.

I’d like to be able to share a poem with you about Jupiter but I don’t have one. The closest I can get – about 3 billion miles away – is this one, about the erstwhile planet Pluto.


A Small Restructuring

Ah, Pluto. Thanks for coming in this morning.
Do take a seat. Coffee? That’s super. Terrific.
So how are things out there on the Kuiper Belt?
Not too cold and lonely, I hope? Wonderful.

Now I know you’re a busy celestial body
so I shall keep this short. Nothing to worry about,
it’s just that we’ve been having a bit of a rethink
here at the Astronomical Union, taking a fresh look

at our options, a small restructuring as it were,
and we’d like to offer you a new role,
one which we feel might be more appropriate
for someone with your skillset and, ahem,

proportions. In our dwarf planet department.
No, no, no! You’re still very much part of the team.
It’s just that … well, the thing is you haven’t been clearing
your neighbouring region of other objects

and you’ve had a few billion years to do so.
Don’t get me wrong! Your orbiting around the Sun
has been first-class. And we have no doubts whatsoever
concerning your hydrostatic equilibrium.

No, we are not being sizeist. Times change, that’s all
and we need to be more stringent with our nomenclature.
Anyhow, best be getting on. I’ve got Earth to see next.
Now there’s a planet who does have problems.

Autumn Tour Q&A

Sadly, Pluto is not one of the places I shall be visiting on my autumn tour, although I will be going to Guildford. It kicks off later this month and continues until early December. I’ve had a lot of questions about the tour so I thought I’d pick off a handful this month with a few more to follow over the next couple of newsletters.

Q. I’ve seen you before. Why should I bother coming to see you again?

A. This is a brand new show, with lots of new poems and at least three new jokes. Yes, there will be some older poems in there – it would be remiss of me not to include a few old bangers – but the focus is on my new book, How to Lay an Egg with a Horse Inside. Also, it’ll be better this time, I hadn’t eaten properly that day and had no idea my flies were undone.

Q. You never come to Wales. What have you got against it?

A. I have nothing against Wales. In fact, I shall be visiting Monmouth, Aberystwyth, Cardigan and Cardiff as part of this tour.

Q. I mean, why do you never come to the precise bit of Wales in which I live?

A. It is difficult to visit every settlement. The size of Wales should not be underestimated; in fact, you could fit a country the size of Wales in it.

Q. Will you be reading this poem on your tour?

Remembrance of Things Pasta

She blew her fusilli,
my pretty penne,
when she found me watching 
daytime tagliatelle.

Je ne spaghetti rien,
I responded in song,
but she did not linguini
for long,

just walked out
without further retort:
a hard lesson to be tortellini,
orzo I thought.

And so here I am,
all on my macaroni,
and now my days
feel cannelloni.

A. No.

Q. Is there any chance you can list all of your tour dates with convenient links so I can purchase ten tickets for each show for me and my friends?

A. Okay, then …

September

20th MORECAMBE POETRY FESTIVAL  Tickets
23rd: MONMOUTH: Savoy Theatre  Tickets
24th: ABERYSTWYTH: Arts Centre  Tickets
25th: CARDIGAN: Mwldan  Tickets
26th: WINCHESTER: Guildhall  Tickets
27th: GUILDFORD: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre  Last Few Tickets
30th: HARPENDEN: Eric Morecambe Centre  Tickets

October

1st: COVENTRY: Warwick Arts Centre  Tickets
2nd: DARWEN: Darwen Library Theatre  Tickets
3rd: ILKLEY LITERATURE FESTIVAL  Tickets
4th: MALTON: Milton Rooms  Tickets
7th: CROYDON: Fairfield Ashcroft Theatre  Tickets
8th: DEAL: Astor Theatre SOLD OUT 
9th: NORWICH: The Halls  Tickets
10th: COLCHESTER: Arts Centre  SOLD OUT
14th: LOUGHBOROUGH: MMC  SOLD OUT
15th: MANCHESTER: Stoller Hall  Tickets
16th: ULVERSTON: Coronation Hall  Tickets
21st: KIDDERMINSTER: Town Hall  Tickets
22nd: GLASGOW: Mackintosh Queen’s Cross  Tickets
23rd: ABERDEEN: The Lemon Tree  Tickets
24th: STIRLING: Tolbooth  Last Few Tickets
28th: STAMFORD: Corn Exchange  Tickets
29th: BURY ST EDMUNDS: The Apex  Last Few Tickets
30th: CORSHAM: Pound Arts Centre  SOLD OUT  
31st: OXFORD: The North Wall  SOLD OUT

November

4th: WORTHING: Pavilion  Tickets
6th: BELLAGHY: Seamus Heaney HomePlace SOLD OUT
7th: BELLAGHY: Seamus Heaney HomePlace SOLD OUT
11th: LEEDS: City Varieties  Last Few Tickets
12th: SUNDERLAND: The Fire Station  Tickets
13th: HELMSLEY: Arts Centre SOLD OUT
14th: POCKLINGTON: Arts Centre SOLD OUT
15th: SHEFFIELD: Memorial Hall  Tickets
18th: OXFORD: The North Wall  SOLD OUT
19th: STROUD: Sub Rooms  Last Few Tickets
20th: BRIDPORT: Electric Palace  Tickets
21st: EXETER: Corn Exchange  Last Few Tickets
22nd: BUDE: The Parkhouse Centre  Tickets
25th: NEWARK: Palace Theatre  Last Few Tickets
26th: BAKEWELL: Town Hall  Last Few Tickets
27th: CHORLEY: Chorley Theatre  Last Few Tickets
28th: LIVERPOOL: Tung Auditorium  Last Few Tickets
30th: BRISTOL: St George’s  Last Few Tickets

December

1st: CARDIFF: Glee Club  Tickets
4th: LONDON: Union Chapel  Last Few Tickets

And finally …

By the time you’ve managed to plough your way through this month’s newsletter, September may very nearly be over. But before it is, pause for a moment on 27th: that’s Tourism Day, an annual event aimed at spreading awareness of the importance of sustainable tourism. Here’s a poem to accompany it.


Short Poem for Tourism Day

Tourists wait in line
to enter Machu Picchu.
Oh look! A high queue.


I’m very sorry about that.

Until next month,
Brian

P.S. If, for some strange reason, you would like to subscribe to this newsletter and get future editions delivered to your email inbox, you can do so here: https://brianbilston.com/newsletter/