Author Heathcote Williams
Celebrating Jeremy Corbyn’s favourite poet Shelley – a poet for the many not the few
Donald J. Trump: president of the US plutocratic pornocracy
I don’t like to analyze myself because I might not like what I see – Donald Trump
There’s a bounty on the head of Tony Blair for anyone who makes a citizen’s arrest
How William Blake got rid of stalker hacks, soul stealers and 19th century paparazzi
Brexit Boris – From Mayor to Nightmare. By Heathcote Williams
Forensic and passionate, eloquent and polemical, Heathcote Williams’s meticulous prose roars with righteous anger – Jeremy Hardy
How the United States self-mythologises its meglomaniac empire every Thanksgiving Day
Buller! Buller! Buller! Boris Johnson and the air of lurking violence
“His defence of bankers’ greed is Bullingdon morality, pure and simple.”
The Last Dodo. By Heathcote Williams
In death it has become a testament to the folly of man, more deserving of derision than the Dodo.
Dying’s annoying, you’re enjoying the party, then you have to leave. By Heathcote Williams RIP
Apply to the 120 club. As soon as you join, just say: “I’m not going to die”, adding, “So far, so good”.
What are people doing fucking dying? Haven’t they got better things to do?
No sooner than you’re on someone’s wavelength, then suddenly they’re whisked away from you. Heathcote Williams on the death of David Bowie.
Heathcote Williams: The last of the fire breathers
Poetry had to unsettle, subvert, with luck destroy, whatever stopped human beings thinking freely and acting justly.