Football Hooligans | 29th December 2014 (23:49)

Th title decider. The last game of the year and two recently rekindled rivalries are going to head in my own home town nonetheless.

It’s going to be bloodshed, if the old guards stories are true. Fighting on the street, blood gushing down the faces of men, young and old alike. Carnage. Just like the good old days, so I’m told. When the match was just another round of the fight. Where the beatings in some tight alley, he cobbled stones and rough brick walls was where the real winners were founded.

I get there early, to the ground. I wait in the car park, a strip of piping hidden up my sleeve. The ground, resting on the hillside is a magnificent site.

I wait there a long while before I see some of the old guard. Skinheads then by choice, now by mother natures cruel humour they march together across the car park. I step in line. They do not notice me, I am just another ace among the crowd. We walk, in my mind march, right up to the opposition. Their kit colours so different to ours. They are targets.

The man I presume to be our leader quickens his pace as the rest fall in behind. He walks up to their leader, a man of similar stature. Our leader puts out a hand in front of him. And shakes the hand of their leader.

Then they hug. Old school friends greeting each other before the game. Ribbing each other about their teams poor form.

Football hooliganism isn’t what it used to be.

Things You Should Never Hear At Christmas | 26th December 2014 (23:59)

1) “Slap the Monkey” “I thought it was spank the monkey?” – from your mum and nan
2) “The Turkey – it’s burnt!”
3) “oh, is that all I’ve got?”
4) “it’s ok, I’ll just get something I want in the sales.”
5) “We’re not going to celebrate Christmas next year, we’re thinking of becoming Mormons and want everyone to join us in our new practice. What’s that? No, they’ll be no presents from us I’m afraid kids.”

Banned For Life | 25th December 2014 (23:59)

“Why the fuck are you using my camera?!”

“Oh, sorry I thought it would be ok?”

“Well it’s bloody well not!”

“Well I won’t use it again then.”

“No, you won’t. You’re banned for life.”

“Fine, but you can’t ask me to take a picture ever again!”

“Oh sorry, I meant to say from, not for. You’re banned from life. I’m going to kill you.”

Bus Stop Drunk | 24th December 2014 (23:59)

Curled against the wind, our bodies entwined, the heat of our hearts act as a coat warmer than a fleece. The wind whips at tail ends and scarf threads, like angry snakes in a pit, like lashes against our cold flesh.

We are offered a lift home. We could pay for a taxi or walk to a friends house, but we don’t. We stay where we are, never feeling closer. And never being as close again. Everything changes after this night.

So we enjoy this time together, while we can.

A Look Back | 22nd December 2014 (23:59)

“It is believed that this is what humans called “trees”. Although now extinct, the tree was a beautiful and diverse member of the Eco system and its demise can often be attributed to the eradication of homospaiens on Earth. Incidentally, historic fossil evidence strongly suggests that it was actually the later generational humans who caused the destruction of so many of these beautiful organic beings that in turn led to the homosapiens being wiped from the face of the Earth. Originally up to 100 foot tall in some species, the tree was an incredible sight to see. Now, like this one, they rarely grow tall than three foot. It is believed that by the end of the century, they will be all gone and the Earth will never see life again.

That gentlemen, as the people of Earth would say, is why I propose to save the planet. And it would be relatively cheap to do.”

“What’s in it for us?” Asked the big grey blob that presided over the council.

“Well you’d be saving an entire planet and it is my hope, my belief that we may even be able to reintroduce humans that were bred in captivity back onto the planet. We could restart.”

“Will it make money?”

“Probably not,” said Alex with the bitter taste of honesty on his tongue.

“We’re not really looking for a charity investment right now. Please leave.”

Picture Perfect | 21st December 2014 (23:51)

“A bit more to the right right,” my daughter said to me.
“You you sure, pumpkin?”
“Daddy, of course I’m right!” She always knows what to say to make me smile. She’s knows I’m upset, I’m always upset on this day.

I step back and look at the painting, the left hand side is slightly higher than the right but it’s good enough and I’m not going to change it in front of Frankie, she’d never let me. “Thanks for that, honey.”

“That’s ok. Daddy, who is the picture of.”

“That’s your mummy, that’s my favourite picture of her. You were there then too, but you were only little.”

“I don’t remember that,” she said. The innocence of the world expressed in her voice.

“Well, you were only very little so that’s ok. I very nearly didn’t get this picture actually. I was going to go back to the car to get my phone but your mummy convinced me to leave it. I’m glad I did. She was always right, your mum,” I face her and she looks a little sad without her mum now. I always feel guilty talking about her because I know Frankie is losing memory of her fast. I don’t want her hating me for remembering the woman who have her life. The love of my life. “I bit like someone else I know,” I say as I start to tickle her.

Based on HDHC Photography

I Need A Story | 20th November 2014 (23:59)

The alleyway had a reputation. It was dark, damp and there was a smell that couldn’t quite be explained, changing every time a breeze from the docks rolled in. The garbage men had now learnt to avoid the place, with rubbish pulled high and used needles in every other sack, it was like an STI lucky dip.

Only the worst kind of people were found there now. And that’s exactly why I’m standing in its mouth, bracing myself to go in. I check, as I have done three times already, that no one can see someone of my reputation enter a place like this and when I am confident that no one is watch, for the third time, I finally place one foot in front of the other and head in.

I can’t lie and say that this is my first time here and as I walk down the Tarmac, avoid in puddles of what I hope is water but know isn’t, the memories of my last two visits come back to me. The first time was, how long, less than six years ago now. I needed inspiration and I needed it badly. I’d heard about this place, as everyone had. A place where certain someone’s could get any kind of inspiration. It worked really well two, I was euphoric.

The second time was only two years ago. I needed it more than ever then. I was a mess, I was a nervous wreck and this was my ladder out of the pit that I had dug.

And now I was back, peering round the doorways to find my guy.

Heartbeat | 18th December 2014 (23:59)

Thump thump. Thump thump what makes us alive?
Thump thump. Thump thump is it our hearts, beating?
Thump thump. Thump thump or the blood that it pumps?
Thump thump. Thump thump is it our brans who regulate the heart?
Thump thump. Thump thump or the sight of a loved one that makes it skip?
Thump thump. Thump thump perhaps it’s fear, that makes it flutter?
Thump thump. Thump thump or even the body that protects if?
Thump thump. Thump thump is it our superior intellect?
Thump thump. Thump thump or is it a greater being?
Thump thump. Thump thump or maybe it’s all just a computer game that someone else is playing?
Thump thump. Thump thump or, perhaps none of us ever really live?
Thump thump. Thump thump

Bigfoot of the Tundra Part 2 | 17th December 2014 (22:51)

Young Ronald fled from the town as soon as he was old enough. He did not say good bye to his parents, who were often as bad as the bullies from school, and he had no friends to bid farewell to, the bullies saw to that. So Ronald left one night, and he was never seen near his home town again.

For years after, Ronald, not trusting society to bully him wherever he went, lived in woodland, and scrubland, and mountain ranges and back to woodlands. Anywhere and everywhere that he could roam free and unmolested was his home. He learnt how to hunt from watching the city slickers from afar, learnt how to warm himself and how to cook the food he caught. The only thing he never did do, was learn to shave.

As he roamed from place to place, Ronald became haired and hairier. He became more menacing and aggressive and ape like. He was a beast before his 25th birthday. Seven long years in the wild, seven blistering hot summers as he swam in streams and hunters with bears and seven bitterly cold winters where he foraged for food with the wolves and hid in unoccupied caves and burrows at night.

Before long, Ronald was dead, and in his place, the true Bigfoot had taken his place.

With language no longer to his memory, at 25 years old, Bigfoot was a grunting shuffling mess. Hunters shot at him, if ever they were lucky enough to stumble across him, tourists and ramblers would run in fear if their paths ever crossed. He was alone and yearned for company.

A chance meeting in the summer of 1976, found the animal that had once answered to Ronald, stumble across a young couple, sunbathing by a shallow pond. As Bigfoot watched them, he saw that they were very much in love, with their bodies glistening from their afternoon swim, they lay dosing as the sunlight shone off their youthful faces. Bigfoot watched them for a while, the young woman especially, the bounds of her breasts and the curve of her hips enticed him. He was acutely aware of the smoothness beneath her bikini bottoms, a curiosity arose in him.

After a time, when he was sure that they would not hear his approach, he made his way to the clearing where the young couple soaked up the rays. A smile on both of their faces.

Bigfoots shadow fell on them, and it wasn’t long before their eyes flickered open, looking to the clouds, wondering why their fun had ceased. Once adjusted, their eyes met Bigfoots. He had only eyes for the beauty that had found her way into his summer woods, until the man she was with screamed at the site of Bigfoot.

Bigfoot turned to face the screaming man who’s lungs must have been on fire. He recognised the screamer immediately.

His old bully, once upon a time, the boy.

Bigfoot roared, as the animals had taught him, he reared, high, high, higher. He was angry and was distraught. He was ready for murder. His heart raced in his chest, the thundering of that muscle against rib cages was deafening.

The Ring Road | 16th December 2014 (23:59)

A thousand hunks of metal, chugging out burnt fossil smoke, melting ice caps and allowing their drivers to get fat with disgrace. Tail to bumper, bumper to tail, no one could move.

Drivers were asleep at the wheel, but for once it didn’t matter, there was nowhere to go. Pizza and Chinese food and curry and Thai food were all ordered to cars, the drivers not able to move away from their precious cars.