“You really think he’s Jesus?” “Of course not, Jesus doesn’t drink Tesco Value Lager on the night bus. Wouldn’t be right, besides, the son of God would be more of a wine man I reckon, although how that fits with the blood of Christ thing I’ve no idea.” “You’ve got […]
London
30 posts
It wasn’t so much a gang war as a communal scuffle. Although as fifty-three people wound up dead you could say that was just arguing semantics. They really didn’t mean for things to escalate so fast though, no one did, things just kind of worked their way up from a […]
The Royal Navy tried, they really did. Frigates, destroyers, dreadnoughts, rubber dinghies, armadas of novelty inflatables, they gave it their best and bless ’em for the effort. Then the Americans came in, late, as is their habit, and took their turn. They brought an aircraft carrier and three nuclear submarines, […]
Some put it down to the drugs. I was never satisfied with that answer myself. Granted, there was a lot of drugs about in those days, a hell of a lot, but while you can say a person might hallucinate an elephant they’re unlikely to flip a couple of buses […]
It wasn’t until they set about building the new flats that questions started to be asked. They were easy ones at first, mundane in nature, technical in approach. ‘Have you checked the subsidence in the north west corner?’ and ‘we’ll have to add another layer of concrete to those foundations […]
I spent a few hours at the Tate Modern the other day. My knowledge of art is, at best, completely non-existent. I know what I like and, in general, I’m willing to give the rest the benefit of the doubt, assuming it’s got some sense of purpose or emotion behind […]
They made up a surgeon’s hand. Dissecting concrete housing blocks and perishing tarmac roads, slicing away incongruously overgrown marks of humanity to remove the infected tissue of life. A healing process, they said, the men and women who orchestrated the diggers, cranes and wrecking balls with balletic elegance. From their […]
It’s a theft a knife to the throat jacking where the blade goes deep enough to bleed out something living something vital that a mechanical thief has no use for beyond purging it and pumping it back to victims they’ve kicked while down and robbed once up Be sure to […]
Chip away the rock on which you stand to offer clearer views and wait nervously for the collapse to bury you Be sure to check out my new book No Cure for Shell Shock.
Set in a semi-dystopian version of Manchester’s underbelly Pomona is about a sister’s search for her sister. In a way, more or less and just about. With Pomona the plot is treated less as an essential asset and more as a house of mirrors style premise for elements of surreal, Lovecraftian and philosophical […]