Poster Size

All of them . . .

Fortune Cookies

FORTUNE COOKIES Police called to settle a fracas at Amsterdam's Schippol Airport yesterday uncovered a trail of systematic company malpractice and serial stupidity that has sent tremors through the retail trade and set alarms bells ringing in the City of London. Law officers were called to the international air terminal when Crass Parkinson-Slaw (36) wrestled executive colleague, Dan Mules, (52) to the ground following what frightened witnesses described as "an heated discussion" about travel arrangements. The editor of The Oxford Dictionary of Grammar approved the quote for syntactical correctness and gave a witness statement in support of Mr Parkinson-Slaw which has since been rejected by his counsel as "not very helpful". While the combatants, both from London, were sedated in the airport's holding cells, calls to their company revealed a complicated plot, allegedly leading to the grizzly murder of a middle manager in a failing electrical installation company. Mules, who has now been charged with five counts of threatening behaviour, one of grievous bodily harm, possession of dynamite, wearing a dodgy suit and attempting to convey Amsterdam fortune cookies across international boundaries, gave investigators a full account of a plan to lure satellite installer, Garry Laytham to a strip club in London's West End where a hit squad would "deal with him". Later, when asked to plead, Mules said "No comment. Talk to my MD... er, on second thoughts, don't call him. Just no comment". Laytham was being held in a safe house in northern England as the evil plot emerged from the hot airless cell where Dutch police put the arrested pair under intense questioning. In an internationally co-ordinated operation, Metropolitan Police officers, some carrying assault rifles, raided the offices of MiraBiliS (MBS) and the The Capricorn Club clip joint, both premises just off London's Tottenham Court Road, and took away boxes of files which Company Secretary, Michael J. Kine, aka Micky Kine, Smith Kine Beecham, and Shagger, said he thought had been lost or carefully mislaid ages ago. His uncontrolled gibbering and free flow of detailed information as the officers applied pressure to a point near the base of his neck led to the interrogation in Paddington Police Station's high security cells of Henry Victor, following his arrest while handing over a large sum of cash at the door of the Capricorn. Henry-Victor-one-five told police little but at least implicated a known confrere, "Noddy" Leckie, who escaped a police interview by sleeping in. The dispute between the growing number of police prisoners being held in Amsterdam and London and Laytham's company, Qui Theque, was apparently over the installation of new satellite receivers in the paint department at a popular national chain of DIY retail outlets. Quay Tec got it all wrong and sent highly-trained painters and decorators. Laytham was apparently blameless, but his Chairman and Financial Director, both found dead on a Midlands golf course with three and four irons respectively sunk into their skulls, were clearly responsible for serious failings. It was difficult for the greying MBS MD, Stanley Gradgrind, to allay the fears of detectives about the sand in his trouser turn-ups as the two bodies were recovered from a bunker on the eighth hole of the Happy Trails Golf Course, Oxon. He told them straight off that Keith had put him up to it and said the spade was still in his garage. The smooth-talking Welshman, Taffy "KD" Davids, was later carried from his Nottinghamshire home in a straight-jacket. Jeff Clark-Kent, 47, W1 bon viveur and salesman extraordinaire, was cornered in a Soho telephone kiosk, making a seven-figure offer for Scunthorpe United. Nineteen people will appear at Bow Street Magistrates Court tomorrow charged with a textbook full of offences.

Young Finty McGinty and Beau Barney Deeley

Supernatural pseudo-folk narrative/itty-bitty-ditty


The bedroom window in my student house....

Two Weeks On Vodka

Crazy Times

Alcoholic Haze

A long cool Thames night. A longer gin, courses the smashed capillaries from cheek to chin, Time to rest, the shattered shoulder. Droop the eyelids...


No more laughter.

Inspiration Needed

Writers block.

Not Cricket



Itchy alliteration.


He'd be spinning in his grave.

Summers Night

Short and sweet.

Caledonian Air

A flight of fancy.

Lamb of God

Jack the butcher takes on the Church


War from the front line.

Never Mind.

Power of the mind.


Misplaced faith.

Box Of Thoughts.

Absent minded.

I Know - I think !


Full Circle.

Life goes on -and on.