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Well, it’s great to see the Tories return to a value that’s always been so close to their cold, lifeless hearts: starving children. The latest toxic Tory policy has been the denial of a free school meal, outside of term-time, to the poorest children in the country. Unsurprisingly there’s been some kickback to this — it’s bad when King Kipper Farage says you’ve been a bit stingy.

The reasons for the Tories voting against the Labour motion to feed the poor are dependent on who you ask. Nicky Morgan said that perhaps the Tories would have voted to feed the…


Before I had a Kindle, I was firmly of the opinion that it was a very good thing, it just wasn’t for me. Then I accepted it was 2020 and I might need to stop being so resistant to change and start moving with the times. Like many people I have a love/hate relationship with technology; I love the added benefits and enhancements it brings to my life, but I hate its insidious creep into every facet of our day. It was mainly this point that made me so hesitant to try an e-reader. I already spend way too much…

Solomon Barton was not a lucky man, the fates did not shine brightly upon him, nor did fortune favour his boldness. No, if Solomon Barton were to cast his lot with turkeys and purchase stocks in tinsel, Christmas would surely be cancelled. So why Solomon Barton decided upon a gambling holiday was anyone’s guess.

“Sir, if would kindly place your omniwatch on the scanner, we will be happy to upload your passkey.” The hologram smiled, a translucent arm gesturing to the small infrared scanner built into the hotel reception’s countertop.

Solomon Barton offered a grumble in return, for the life…

“I’m sure you know why I have summoned you?”

Arthur Brookstream, esteemed leader of Oldwich Grammar School. Esteemed to some anyway, but to us discerning members of faculty he was nothing but a soft and spineless blob of a man, with an ego surpassed only by his stomach. I had his measure, every square-bloody-foot of him.

I shot him a look that could pierce diamond before my eyes stabbed the back of Mrs Archwood and her precious little angel’s head. “Yes, I bloody do, Arthur.” I’m certain my eyes were doing cartwheels. “What do you take me for, a fool…

I pulled up to the church in a red 1997 Ford Fiesta that was festooned with rust and ribbons. It wasn’t exactly the vintage car I had in mind for my wedding. It wasn’t a grand old church with huge hulking bricks and ornate architectural flair, instead it was small and modern, and had all the charm of a turn of the millennium community centre.

I still can’t believe I’m going through with this. Maybe I should have listened to mum…’ the doubts swirled around my mind like rain caught in the wind. I pushed them to one side, cold…

The desks in Mr Fell’s class ran along the perimeter of the room, with a small island in the middle. That’s where I sat, mindlessly copying notes from the overhead projector or fighting with every fibre of my being to stay awake. Mr Fell had a voice that would give general aesthetic a run for its money. Today it’s where I would be frozen like a cowardly wretch.

Mr Fell was blessed with only being two doors away from the staff room, something he liked to utilise at every possible occasion. We didn’t care. A teacher leaving a class unsupervised…

I’ve just started a short writing course and I’ll be posting some of the exercises here. Any constructive criticism is always greatly appreciated.

Graeme D

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