I’m very hungry. This is a table. Is this a fast train? Why is not moving? It’s moving. Why are we not eating if this is a table? A mother sits on her phone instead of talking to her four-year-old son. I catch the little boy’s eye and he looks fed-up. Like he has…
“Close your eyes, son.” The young man closed his eyes. “Take a deep breath.” The young man did. “You are stood on the walls of our city, our home. Beneath your feet is the bulwark of our people, stone built higher and higher, mortar mixed with the blood and tears of our woman, our children. Our…
(10) It’s the afternoon of the next day and Sally and Kit are walking together after a Sunday shift at Smalling Publishing. Their pace is slow towards town where they catch their respective bus home. Sally is smoking a cigarette and Kit is talking: “It’s happened so suddenly, I mean this morning I found him…
A rat runs off with the bit of sausage I have just ripped off with my teeth and thrown on the ground next to the electrical generator, which is humming, and grumbling disagreeably with my feeding of the rats. He said he’d meet me here, but there six other people on the platform, and none…
The Puggleton Inn is where I like to drink the most. There is a man in there who sometimes wets himself all over the chair he is sitting in. I love to watch the staff have to clean the wee from the seat. I love it because I know that the wee stinks and smells…
Credit to my pal Sam Garner for “the elected meme.” Donald Trump’s campaign was fuelled by a large group of pseudo-activists, whose picket line was not on the street, but on Facebook, reddit, Twitter and any other social media outlet you care to come up with. It is, as the Guardian has so nicely wrapped…
I brush my teeth and think about the United Kingdom Independence Party. Mrs. Crew most definitely voted for that lot. She deserved what was coming to her. Her skin was very orange, between her folds gathered white pith. The sort of skin flakes that taste sour and accumulate on skirting boards. How? How does the…
Mrs. Crew lived in a bungalow by herself on Croombe Road. By herself, with a parrot. I had seen the parrot through the window. I heard it ringing, ring, ring, like a telephonic device. I heard it through the letterbox. On Tuesdays Mrs. Crew was visited by a nurse. From the nurse I learned Mrs.…
WE ARE STILL HERE. President Elect of the United States, Mr. Donald Trump. Fair enough, Mr. Trump. Fair enough. Democracy wins. I still can’t quite get my head around it, though. His squished, orange face, sat in the oval office, telling people what to do. Telling a whole country what to do. HE HAS MISSILES.…
I think artichoke hearts are my favourite food. That’s not a lie. The way they crunch, and are not crunchy. They make the perfect topping on toast. White. Not brown. I just cannot stand brown toast. The colour. Brown. It reminds me of my darkest secret. A secret I can’t say. A secret so dark…
Seal Matches 