The fish caught my bait. Poor old Inspector. Is he a halibut, by any chance? Or a squealing fox? A squealing fox on the end of my rod. The hard old rod. Ready and poised. I put the glass of water down and follow the two figures out of the door, and then follow them…
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…
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.…
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…
When I walk down the road I like to smell people as they pass. I do. Not obviously. Not right in their face. Sniff. I like to smell the waft they leave behind when they walk past. People at the Tuesday market smell like cigarettes and poo. Sometimes I smell mothballs, or urine. Nothing like…
Seal Matches 