Edd Ferrari

    True Grit for Barbara Hodgson This morning ‘Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini’ jangles out the radio and you remember holidays at Tintagel— on edge, on the edge in caravan with mam and dad and nan, come down from up North to grin and bear...

Dot Cobley

  The Fernery   Scales of glass, a crest of frilled iron, his baby tucked deep in shrubbery   could stagger up on stiff metal limbs as pier crystal palace railway station, steam  oil  sweat on its green breath, mouth a cave.   Pure folly, this...

Tony Vowles

      The Day I Fired Alan Sugar I said look big guy, enough’s enough.  When it comes to the intricacies of macroeconomics and the bell curve, let’s face it, you’re not lord of the manor are you? Despite his rough, tough demeanor he was a pussy cat and...

Grant Tarbard

    Bereave a life bereft, this is a shut-in’s effigy burning on the wood pile of everything I used to be, my dancing shoes are gathering dust in a moth’s light I’m laughing in my filthy drunk alley insides       Grant...