CHICKEN SHOP CHICKEN SHOP
CHICKEN SHOP CHICKEN SHOP STOP IT STOP IT YOU’RE MAKING MY CHILD FAT.
CHICKEN SHOP CHICKEN SHOP STOP IT STOP IT YOU’RE MAKING MY CHILD FAT.
“The planet will one day be absorbed by the sun,” said the father to his six-year old son. “Absorbed by the sun?” “Horribly, there’ll be much fiery death.” The son nodded, “Like in X-men.” “Sort of, except X-men isn’t real, it’s a construct to help bring excitement to otherwise dull lives.” “Will it be dull…
Everybody is an excuse maker. I won’t blog today because I have work in a few hours and I want to vegetate. I won’t tidy up the kitchen because I already cleaned it yesterday (and anyway it’s not that messy, the bin smells but I know that it’s the chicken from three days ago. I…
To the girl on the train, we are not thinking about fucking you. We aren’t superstars. Instead, to fall in love, buy better shoes. Following the drunks from pub to pub. Receding hair leaning on the bar. No one has turned on the jukebox. Who’s mum fucking died in here? Sniff. He goes to…
That’s right, tape over your webcam like Zuckerberg does, because the government is on to you, and if it’s not the government, then it’s a greeb in his mum’s basement watching you bash one off to the new Miley Cyrus video. Mrs. “Un-elected” May has just pushed through the most savage surveillance bill in the…
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…
Mao’s peaceful beef goes wrong. History reproduces with ignorance.
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.…