Cherrypicked stories

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.

tea poem original

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

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;

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

From the same story as Prologue. (Apologies for the lack of paragraph indents but I can't get my head round the submission formatting!)

I sleep as the Egyptians died, my hands abreast and folded in a way a mummy might have guessed her soul to leave for afterlife. But I don't travel far, as life still holds me back. The thread a-stretch I rise

So I always thought flash fiction was something you wrote very fast ('cos, you know, 'in a flash'), but it turns out it just means very short. Anyway, this is both.

Leave the money on the pillow - close the door before you go, it's freezing in this hell-hole and the meter's running low.