IT WAS an absolute honour to be asked to do a set at the celebration of Tony Benn's life at the Mitchell Theatre in Glasgow last Sunday. He has been a lifelong inspiration to me and I wrote this poem in his honour and performed it twice on the day:

Red Wedgwood

"The former Viscount Stansgate"

The Tory press would sneer.

"What does he know of struggle?

He's just a toffy peer."

But it's not where you come from
-It's what you fucking DO.

John Peel and Engels knew that

And Strummer knew it too.

A fighter for the working class:

A giant among men.

He wasn't Viscount Stansgate.

His name was Tony Benn.

The reason I did it twice was that the day was split into two parts - a spoken-word section in the afternoon featuring the excellent Scottish poets Elvis McGonagall and Tom Leonard and comedian Bruce Morton alongside yours truly and an evening musical event.

I wasn't due to be performing in the evening but when I arrived I was asked to fill in for the great radical folk singer Roy Bailey, who of course has often appeared alongside Benn, and who had sadly been taken ill.

So instead of the gentle and beautifully voiced comrade Bailey, the assembled throng were treated to a shouty Sussex poet, fortified by a few pints in the Bon Accord in between shows, singing Prince Harry's Knob.

I'm happy to say that they joined in the chorus with gusto.

But most importantly, on behalf of all at the Star, get well soon, Roy.

It was also a pleasure to meet Emily, Benn's granddaughter, who made a short speech.

I actually voted for her at the last election - she stood as Labour candidate for our constituency of East Worthing and Shoreham, a brave thing to do since a decomposing dogfish would get elected round here as long as it was wearing a Tory rosette. Although absolutely lovely, I discovered that she suffers the horrible affliction of being a Crystal Palace fan and is prospective parliamentary candidate for Croydon at the next election, which is logical and eminently more winnable.

Be good to see the family represented in Parliament again and good luck, Emily. To you. Not to Palace.

Last weekend was hectic, actually.

On the Saturday I had two home matches in one day. Having watched Brighton lose 2-1 to Fulham, thus sliding into the rectal area of the Championship, my wife Robina and I drove to north London in time for me to be guest performer at the Star's fundraising quiz.

I'm happy to say that the second home match had a much more successful outcome than the first with £750 raised and a good time had by all.

We then drove to Milton Keynes for a romantic night in a Travelodge, up at 7am for the long journey to Glasgow, and then home via another gig at Loughborough University on Monday. Much respect to those who drive for a living and do that kind of thing all the time. It's hard.

Tomorrow I'm in Kidderminster at the Boar's Head and on Saturday at excellent Nottingham band Ferocious Dog's one-day festival in Warsop.

And, in between, I'll be cheering on the Seagulls at Derby.

Hope springs eternal.