jamiepitman
The Burgundy Fog swooped through our rooms, our streets, our civic centres and our empty amusement arcades. None of us saw it coming. In its wake it pulled the best of us: our aspirations, dreams, hopes, fears and Livejournal posts. The …
I'm not Steven Moffat, Although folk have told me otherwise. 'Folk' is not a word Steven Moffat would use. Not least in the context of a poem about himself. I'm not Steven Moffat because he is a writer of exceptional skill and, dare I say…
I wrote the title Then I figured I'd decide what to write about. But she feels sick. So I should write about that. We drank a bottle each at the pub. The pub we've ruined ourselves at for over three years. The same pub. The same offers, …
So it's okay To spell things how you want Like the Dictionary is just a suggestion A guide A vague road map, open To interpretation. So it's alright For the BBC The British Broadcasting Corporation To completely foul up even the simplest o…
My passport photograph looks like a pissed-up silkworm. My graduation photo is all velvet tentacles and dark rags. My first memory is of the credits sequence of the Sweeney Todd remake. My internet banking password is all eights. My CV …
Tonight at The Caramel Prince, we have lush pastoral chimes and bearded hedge-funding from Gorehorse (8.00-8.10), then we'll be introducing fresh lemonade-inducing crimehop to the stage in the form of messrs Logan and Princh, performing fo…
Start the vacuum engine, she said. I don't know what it's going to do, I said. Just press the bloody button already, she said. We haven't properly tested it yet, I said. Get on with it, I need to put the potatoes on, she said. I've been w…
Grab your camera bag, We're going hunting. Sloping down avenues, tethered To rusted clouds and distant stars. The freakshow frets forever, all furrowed furs and frothing fallopians, Its ghastly gallows gangrene growing, glowing In golden …
Starters Polished gravy granule Woodman's Flaunt Hoisin spiky Jew on a crusty bed Lynch mob choirboy Special Event salmon Radox Justice Main Meals Parmesan egg hammock with a liver and pastry jus Twilight saga dipped in couscous sweat Be…
"There were these things growing out of my armpits. They were a beetroot colour and they looked like stalks. They had buds on the ends. A friend and I googled it and it was in a medieval book. "Then I tried to escape in a car, a taxi, and …
Dead-eyed, he paws the cottage's oak parlour door. Four mews erupt from his neck, a bloodclot clambering further through his heartstrings with each one. He tips, lists, tumbles, stays. "Get over it, it's only a cat," says the ombudsman, an…