short stories


Later, Simmons goes out of business because his sandwiches are disgusting and his chicken noodles are grey

This is a re-post of something that occurred to me at the Tolpuddle Martyrs’ Festival at the weekend, and threw together on the Billy Bragg Forum on Tuesday. A dozen smiling happy people stand in a scruffy queue. The low evening sun sets a warm glow on their eclectic collected […]