Flying buttshakers of death

Shake your ass, but watch yourself.
Shroomed to delusion,
Flying buttshakers of death.

Boris and Burkas

Boris is a berk?
Well I never.

Boris a Nazi?
Not even slightly.

Bring balaclavas back?
Northern Ireland stylie.

Pints of Guinness all around,
Boris stands his ground.

Well I never,
Boris is a berk.

Boris a Nazi?
Not even slightly.

Between the mountain and the sea: Thought for Food

Between the mountain and the sea,
A city emerges,
Dancing
To the samba beat,
Which builds as the waves
Lap along the Copacabana shore;
Clapping along with the rhythm,
They rap on the door
Of the House of Carijó.

Rio,
Caipirinha in hands outstretched
In a fine Brazilian welcome;
For a multispectral carnival
Of Thought For Food
And food for thought.
Ideas,
Building to a crescendo
Of next generation dreams.

Dreams,
Which become reality
As the finalist teams come together to pitch
And learn, and share,
As part of a global family
Of change makers and game changers,
Who care
For a world in which, for many,
Food, water and nutrition are scarce.

A globally connected world,
Where ideas once stale
Now fly
Through optical fibres;
It is no longer good enough
To sit back and wonder why,
Who,
How, 
Where?

When many have plenty
But plenty more to give,
It’s on us to say here,
Now,
It’s time, let’s begin.
To catalyse a change,
We must innovate without,
Uproot the status quo
And renovate what’s within.

And where better to start than in Rio?
Between the mountain and the sea,
Where ten finalist teams
Come together to pitch 
And learn, and share,
As part of a global family
Of next generation dreams
That with Thought for Food
Become reality.