Cherrypicked stories

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Argentina v Ivory Coast from Buenos Aires 10 June 2006

The second missive from the World Cup in South America....
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Borough Market

This Poem has Temporarily Removed and will be reposted August 06
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Nathaniel

Nathaniel, acrobat ...
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New Things

I have already been perfect once, this morning: my horse's nose, my gibbon's corrugated brow, the splendid chain-mail of my reptilian neck. (A poem written for Pascale Petit's workshop on the Guardian website.)
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A Three Pipe Problem

In response to Jack-Cade's "Jeremy Brett"
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The Replacement Mania

Cover from "Horse Crazy" by Gary Indiana.
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Balloons

that there is something atavistic about balloon flights; the hanging and the hope.
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Hilarious Nigerian Scammer Story

Hilarious Nigerian Scammer Story (To find out what it's all about: Visit www.bookscape.co.uk and read the absurd section) My name is Andrew. I work in a bank in North London. And you simply wouldn't believe the number of times people ask me to give them money. Not just small amounts of money either. I'm talking about entire mortgage repayments, or refinancing of companies. I've been asked on occasions if I could allow strangers access to our accounts department's records, when the building has been closed for the weekend! I understand that at least some of those enquirers have since been questioned by our local police force. But you just wouldn't believe the things that people ask you when they find out that you run a bank.
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Ecuador v Poland from Quito 9 June 2006

The first missive of the South American tour - I'm following the World Cup around south America, watching the games from the country involved.
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Wire-crossed Lovers

She always treated being middle class like it was an affliction, a woman in terminal decay, suffocated by coventions and what not, He was a faceless beaurocrat, sitting at his desk, forever clicking the mouse,
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things can only get better

Performance piece. First draft. Unsure about the title... and pretty much everything else. god is dead as dungarees and dummies we've seen those kids in africa with weird distended tummies and the flood reports that end with orphans screaming for their mummies
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Tell the lens, this is science

edit edit, this needs.
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Sorry I make you lush

I am lush, this morning, someone must have had a dream with loofers hanging from trees and a painting of me and a hologram of me and a woodcock with my face. The heel of my foot is pistachio-green;
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Crumbs

...I remember the square of our bed,
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The Pale Horse

Today the mallet struck, Gavel-to-gavel, dust to dust.
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Wax

he shoulders between soak-macked commuters and steam snarling from grilles.
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Extract From Chapter One

From the same story as Prologue. (Apologies for the lack of paragraph indents but I can't get my head round the submission formatting!)
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This pale picture that was our house

Rain-washed, paint-brushed so many times crimson ivy bloom through the creases in autumn. Tough winds of winter storms lashing its pebble-dashed spiderweb-embroidered face but then again copper-seared lustre

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