This one, which I wrote over the last three days, rejoices in the title 'Contracts for the Design of Certain Vulgar Necessities'.
Jissom, who works in some nebular capacity in industrial design, is stranded on the motorway on his way to a conference in The Vale. He is rescued by a heavy smoking alcoholic with a name very much like Wankingstain. Wankingstain takes him to Club, which is inside a building on a dilapidated industrial estate under the flyover. There, Jissom recognises Professor Goetz, a disgraced anthropologist conducting an independent research program focussing on depersonalisation among the gimps who are part of Club's furniture. Drunkenness, escaped gimps, murder, arson, weird funerals, embittered recluses - it's all in here.
I live in Bristol. Political discourse in my city is dominated by the hard left. I never fail to be disgusted by this. Whenever the hard lef...
Behold Sonnet 75, which I wrote this afternoon, and had the effrontery to submit to Trip Advisor as a review of Leigh Delamere Service Stati...
New page for pisspoor poetry, inspired by "Poem in which I practice happiness", by Joe Dunthorne in the New StatesmanJust now, I was scanning the New Statesman, and came upon what has to be the most facile, disgusting piece of doggerel ever accorded the dig...
British Library EThOS: On the singularity of the world : an actual-counterpart theory of modality