Hurrah for Richard Herring who wrote Fist of Fun with Stewart Lee.
Let me know which is your favourite poem (of mine).
They looked at each other from across the lift.
Hannah’s right breast was beginning to melt. She was regretting the cheap surgeon.
“Hot, today, isn’t it.”
Rhietta nodded. As she did so, her hair caught on the back wall of the lift. There was a slight sizzle, to add to the smell of burning.
She stepped away from the back wall, clothes restricting her movement because of the perspiration. The floor of the lift was also restrictive. It was Jennings, from accounts. He appeared to have reached a point of negative equity.
“Been on holiday this year?”
The lift reached the ground floor, and the doors opened slowly.
They walked out of the building.
i used to
it was right
now i see
sometimes it would be so much easier to hit the motorway bridge
an art or an
Sadly no-one I know wants ot go to Glastonbury.
And I don’t want to go there alone.
So I won’t be going this year.
Unwilling to listen
and did no-one think
what was said
had not been driven
from Friday night
it had driven them
by how he’d felt
and how he couldn’t feel