AS MY first proper tour for over two years began two weeks ago, so did a murderous European war, launched by a crazed megalomaniac at the head of a gangster/oligarch rogue state, once a beacon of hope for the world, but not any more.  

A couple of days later  I wrote a poem directed at anyone who still believes there is a shred of socialist or progressive thought in the Russian government in 2022.
 
The Russian Rouble Fell
 
The Russian rouble fell
On the markets today
It is not doing well:
It fell a long long way.
As people in Ukraine
Endure a living hell
The press want us to know
The Russian rouble fell.
 
Comrades, that sums it up.
There’s no more to be said.
No vestige of the past.
The Revolution’s dead.
A foul kleptocracy
Led by a man insane.
No whataboutery:
We all stand with Ukraine.
 
This ghastly crisis proves CND were, and are, absolutely right. Far from assuring peace, all a “nuclear deterrent” does is deter nations from responding in solidarity to a murderous, genocidal attack on a neighbour from a nuclear-armed aggressor because they are (rightly) worried about starting a nuclear war.
 
The desperate appeals for air support from Ukraine would be answered were it not for that. Given the obvious state of Putin’s mind right now the only thing worse than the current situation is the destruction of the whole world, and I seriously think it could happen.

I had the most horrendous dream last night, and my natural optimism is being tested as never before in my life.
 
And, for what it’s worth, before anyone says “why only now – what about Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, the Balkans, etc” – I felt that way then too, joined the protests, played the benefits, wrote the songs and poems, did all I could. Not bigging myself up, just countering the accusations of “Eurocentric reactions” flying around as the continent erupts in anger and fear.  
 
In the midst of all this it was wonderful to be out on tour again. I started two weeks ago today in Glasgow in the unique surroundings of the Ice Box, a record shop/clothes shop doubling as a community venue, supporting refugees and providing a welcoming space to travelling performers.

From there to Bannerman’s Bar, my old Edinburgh stamping ground, where plenty of old friends were there to meet me – I’ll be returning there for a PBH Free Fringe run during the Festival in August.
 
Then up to the old and atmospheric Settle Inn in Stirling, the farthest north I have been for years. I have never done enough gigs in Scotland, and aim to set the record straight with far more regular visits now Brexit has sadly curtailed my European trips with my band.

Then to Berwick at the Radio Rooms and down to Durham for a much anticipated gig at the Old Cinema Launderette. I had heard a lot about this venue, and it is exactly as described: a former cinema, converted into a functioning and very popular laundrette, which hosts gigs with the washing machines as a backdrop. There’s a bar as well of course. A wonderful and unique place.
 
Then to Middlesbrough, another old stamping ground at the Little Theatre, and after another free-passing but pointless game for the Seagulls at Newcastle it was over to Sunderland for a rip-roaring evening at the Peacock with my old friends Red London, whom I first saw 40 years ago.

I was blown away then, secured them a record deal and produced their first single: they played it in my honour. How time flies. I finished off the first batch at the Fulford Arms in York last Sunday.
 
Starting again next Thursday at Ebenezer’s in Crewe, followed by the Talleyrand in Manchester on Friday, Golden Lion in Todmorden Saturday and Adelphi in Hull Sunday, the last of those a joint fundraiser for the striking Scunthorpe scaffolders and Ukraine war relief, where I’ll be joined by the great Joe Solo. Then a couple of days off and down to Cornwall for five more.
 
I am so happy to be out on the road again. It takes my mind off the ghastly state of the world.

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