Fish Hell (Seahorses).
The staff meeting had been scheduled before the aquarium opened for the day. This meeting had bowled in clean out …
Tag Archives: Satire
Who is LURK?
On Christmas Island in the Indian Ocean there dwells a particular species of red crab that once a year emerges …
A Solution to the Backstop.
In remarkable news from Venezuela, a recent dispute has left the country with two presidents. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, …
The Students Who Were Made of Glass.
The Vice-Chancellor’s personal assistant had managed to briefly recapture him. It was late morning and she had fastened on to …
The Reverend Stuart Campbell Sues for Defamation!
What bliss it was to be alive in Bath that morning. As the Reverend Stuart Campbell was preaching his sermon …
The Noctes Ambrosianae (No 23).
[SCENE: The outside seating at the 56 North gin bar. Tychy, James, Tori, Pablo and Hutu the Clown are sitting …
The Last Ever Can of Irn-Bru in the World.
I went to visit Angus shortly after the twelfth referendum. NO had once again won by the slenderest of margins. …
Time to Crash Out!
Summer is here, the city is fresher than it’s felt in a long time, and it’s time to crash out! …
The Barriers: A Fable of Globalisation.
Dawn brought a fretful little breeze and Erastus Balloo lumbering along in his sepia hatchback, a car so undistinguished that …
The Noctes Ambrosianae (No 22).
[SCENE: The BrewDog on the Cowgate, an apparently half-dismantled bar with bare brickwork on the walls and a stripped-away ceiling. …
Lord Andrew Adonis’ Guide to the European Union.
Once, within the boundaries of the European Union, there was a very wise philosopher named Andrew Adonis. He was so …
Brexit Disaster: The Reality On The Ground.
You will know that my agency often sends me to work in one of Edinburgh’s ampler supermarkets. You might also …
The Noctes Ambrosianae (No 21).
[SCENE: The Caley Picture House. James, Tychy, Pablo, and Tori are drinking in one of those stylish wooden alcoves.] Tychy …
Handiwork: A Ghost Story for Halloween.
“Fingal himself was there, strong in the grey locks of years. Full rose his sinewy limbs; and wide his shoulders …
Ghosts on the Golf Course.
The town had lately curled into a ball, as all things do when they are cold. The intervals when the …
