This morning, you have forgone the sullen trudge to work, spring – two at a time – up bus stairs, whistle as you settle into a seat at the front with the world’s best view. The grey skies are wonderful,…
in another city or another part of town one of them would be filming this on his Go-Pro the slo-mo catching every leap, the light just right, camera passing over the designer brands casually-worn because they know they deserve them…
(with apologies to Lewis Carroll) ‘Twas Brexit, and the slithy Gove did frottercrutch in dwarfish glee; he snicker-snacked the Camerove, Machiavelliadastardly. Beware the stabberjock, my son! The empty eyes, the robo-glint! who fellobrates the Murdocrone the Ruperturtle übergimp! He pallerised…
Here is a poem for the others who are born on mud floors marshland and high plain in homes of plastic and flattened tin in spat-out estates in lands whose time has gone in the mewling sprawling cities of the…
Next Tuesday what with the weather being lousy and the nights drawing in and the rent being due and the electricity bill hitting the floor and going through the roof at the same time and feeling in need of a…