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Ron's rages are sincere and — according to his wife — healthily cathartic. But can these splenetic outbursts loosen the grip of capitalism at its most monstrous?
‘Hardly politically correct’
Iain Aitch speaks to Tim Wells and is tempted to steal as his own many of the the poet’s acute, crafted observations
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If London were to elect its own poet laureate then it would be hard to look past East End wordsmith Tim Wells and not just because he’s a big fella.
Wells’s carefully honed verse can appear bold, brash and lewd to the uninitiated or un-listening. But watch the man in action, listen with a pint in your hand or delve into his new collection Everything Crash and you realise that for every bog door joke there is a piece of classical inspiration. And for every mention of a reggae floor-filler there is a crafted observation so acute that you want to steal it as your own.
Judge by appearances and you’ll miss the button-down shirt-attired suedehead verbalist deliver lines in Yiddish, Sylheti, Cockney and Jamaican patois.
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