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I hope this passes for entertainment

in these drab, wretched passages of time

that we currently consider to be our lives.


Year Five: A Poetic Reunification

Father’s emancipation brought a new energy to him, but did not completely rid him of the harm that hard labour had inflicted. Once free of his shackles, he committed dutifully to parole conditions that insisted he remain within yelling distance of Scotland Yard. Each morning he was required to wake at 7am and scream “WHITLOCK…

Year Four: My Patriarchal Debacle

“Pertaining to Mr Smacker’s rehabilitation and psychological well-being, we will now hear the words of our prison psychologist, Doctor Arthur Porter. Doctor Porter, would you please?” “Fank yew, Misser Swanson. Fank yew orl, genul’men. Ah hem. Wot iz dair dat cun be said about Misser Smacker dat izzn da most glorious of praise? ‘E izza…

Year Three: A Youth Misplaced

Beeston Orphanage was a wretched place, tucked away in an unfashionable borough of Nottingham. The building itself was a converted 17th century poodle farm, in which the kennels had been converted into four-bed dormitories. The dogs had been released into the wild but had fared poorly, and so were returned and trained to prepare an…

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