About Otwituaries


I started tweeting these poetic obituaries via Twitter on the death of Ernest Borgnine in July 2012. After a while a friend asked if I would gather them together, so I have created this blog as an archive. New Otwituaries will appear here as well as being broadcast via Twitter and Facebook.


All the Otwituaries are written very quickly on the day their subjects pass away, so are maybe a little lacking in polish, but they are all from the heart. They represent the people who have, in some way, touched my life - actors, sportsmen and women, TV personalities, writers, musicians and explorers. These people are already immortal, and therefore don't need my help, but I hope you enjoy reading these short poetic sketches all the same.

Thursday, 18 January 2018

Peter Wyngarde - d. January 15th 2018

I saw you lounging, 
serpentine, outside 
Department H
playing the part still; 
arch-rake in crimplene,
one eye on the girl,
one eye on the door.

Read about Peter Wyngarde here

Monday, 15 January 2018

Dolores O’Riordan - d. January 15th 2018

O faithful departed,
please gather for the Lady
of the Seven Dolours, she 
of the twelve string voice
in a world too full of drums.

Cyrille Regis - d. January 14th 2018

What is it that glitters
there in the goalmouth?
Smithereens of glass
that used to be a wall,
shattered by the flash 
of a bold young boot.

Saturday, 13 January 2018

Bella Emberg - d. January 12th 2018

Comedy has secret rules
of engagement; one states
Only the sweet of spirit
can play the grotesque.

Read about Bella Emberg here

Thursday, 11 January 2018

Sunday, 7 January 2018

John Young - d. January 5th 2018

No jet-jock or speedfreak
but routine rocketeer, 
zero-G teamster, taxi driver 
to the wrong side of the moon.



France Gall - d. January 7th 2018

La chanson de nos vies
est une bougie,
notre dernier souffle 
comme la dernière goutte
de cire.

read about France Gall here




Saturday, 16 December 2017

Monday, 11 December 2017

Keith Chegwin - d. December 11th 2017

I'd like to swap something, 
anything, for a bouncy Scouser,
multi-coloured, smile fizzing 
in the very depths of his eyes.

Read about Keith Chegwin here

Wednesday, 6 December 2017

Johnny Hallyday - d. December 6th 2017

Quand le disque finale s’estompe
comment est-il possible d’être forte?
Nous vivons dans des temps de folie
Elvis est vivant mais Johnny est mort

Tuesday, 5 December 2017

Wednesday, 22 November 2017

David Cassidy - d. November 21st 2017

This morning
I woke to a day
like a bad dream;
death in the Family,
all those damp-eyed girls
too young to know love
who thought
they loved you.


Tuesday, 21 November 2017

Rodney Bewes - d. November 21st 2017

The truth of you
was in a million men 
called Bob; suited,
suburban, provincial, 
souvenirs of the people 
we used to be.



Jana Novotná - d. November 19th 2017

When life contrives 
to slam your sharpest serves 
back, and back, listen 
for the whisper 
at your ear; don't worry,
you'll win this one day.

Wednesday, 15 November 2017

Keith Barron - d. November 15th 2017

I’m sure I saw you
on the box
only last night,
comfortably real
in a low-ratings show
where all the parts
were bit parts.









Monday, 13 November 2017

Tim Gudgin - d. November 8th 2017

From the missing channel
comes a voice, nimble
cadences of scoreless draws
and late kick-offs moving like
scales to a harmonic point of rest.

Wednesday, 25 October 2017

Fats Domino - d. October 24th 2017

It's the aftershow party,
everyone’s here. Fat man
grins, paws rollin’, voice 
like a slurred trombone.
Down here it's still,
the thrill is gone.


Tuesday, 24 October 2017

George Young - d. October 22nd 2017

1 The beat was not easy 
2 One hell of a band 
3 Your mind was on Friday 
4 No flash in the pan 
5 So what’s it to be, George?



Monday, 23 October 2017

Rosemary Leach - d. October 21st 2017


How often the camera
pushed you to the shoulder
of the frame, missing
that ordinary glamour,
that sultry stage-croak,
that neglected smoulder.

Monday, 16 October 2017

Sean Hughes - d. October 15th 2017

After all the shows,
those poems of sadness
and light,
it comes to this;
a beginning, a middle
without an end,
a joke
waiting for a punchline.