• Tasty Green Meat

    My pound of flesh is sizzling away on the hob, producing murderous juices, and on the radio I’m happy to hear my supply of tasty corpses is being maintained. Yes, the Foot & Mouth quarantine has been lifted (a bit prematurely in my case, as my mouth is still foul and my feet are no…

  • The Bloody English

    There’s a man stood behind me in the queue verbally abusing his wife. (What the fuck am I doing at Morrissons anyway?) I glance back. They’re both in their sixties, broken-down. He’s got a thicket of white hair, and looks he shaved with a lump of broken glass, she’s got a sadsack face that’s sucked…

  • Hot Summer

    What a way to spend a Saturday. My acrophobia agoraphobia caught up with me again this weekend, and I found it almost impossible to leave the house. I kind of reflect it when I dress, veering between completely black clothing and bright pink Hawaiian shirts twinned with green-grey combat shorts. The nearest I got to…

  • Shallow Pool

    Gower was the last of the Banteng. His mighty hooves ploughed up the fresh ground beneath trees, his proud horns shed their winter coating against the trees. He was immortal, he was invincible, he was unchallengeable.A shot rang out. There were no more banteng.The rangers’ systems registered the death, sent out a patrol. Gower’s headless…

  • Karma Chameleon

    There are twenty million people in the old Imperial India currently displaced by floods. They’re without food, shelter or water, in dire straits. Yet I feel no human impulse to donate money to them. Why should I? Out of empathy? The imperative simply isn’t there, or I’d already be doing it. My brain occasionally says…