Frivolous Monsters

Local Legends

I do love a local legend; the affectionate term for the group of characters who, combined, can be defined as the people who make our communities unique; whilst, individually, they can be summed up as that nutter who lives down the road. I once found a national website called Local Legends, compiled from local contributions, which chronicled some of these hardy heroes who clog up our high streets. Looking up the local area the most amusing feature seemed to be someone called Mad Denis who had a biography which lets the reader know that he’s mad, and that he’s ginger, and that he’s well known for “showing off his large belly and shouting “I am the Lord” at the top of his voice”. I like it how his biographer felt compelled to finish off this Who’s Who entry with: “Not to be approached”.

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My Bread Roulette Trilogy

I’ve been sifting, pulping, and editing my writing in the hope of better things and I’ve collected together my Bread Roulette trilogy.

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Kill Dodo – Part 02

I don’t know how my parents would have gone about procuring the services of a rogue solo clown back then and, to be honest, aside from hanging around outside the Job Centre after the circus has just left town I wouldn’t have a clue how you’d go about doing it now. But find him they did. Dodo. Him with the white face paint which made him resemble an albino Black & White Minstrel in the more sensitive eighties where the term half-caste was still de rigueur. Dodo the clown.02 Dodo 2 500

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Kill Dodo – Part 01 (or the Case of the Mystery Sweetheart)

I can remember why I did it. I think I can explain why too. I was pretty sure at the time that it all made some sort of sense as, after everything in my life, I’d finally worked out that this was all part of the normal human ritual and how it was the obvious thing to do.01 Sherlock Magnifying Glass

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The Last Highwayman

I was going to go out, the road to hell paved with good intentions as they say, but the rain arrived before I could commit myself and so I ended up doing some tidying up instead which included opening all those bank letters and statements which I’ve been hiding from for several months.03 plunkett

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Journey’s End

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a little boy who read a blog post which mentioned how Bagpuss, the stripy cat from the classic stop-motion TV series, had come to Salford. To cut a very long story short I rushed to the Working Class Movement Library to discover that their exhibition was on the radical roots of his creator Oliver Postgate; their Bagpuss only figurative.

All I wanted was to have my photo taken with Bagpuss and so, after the staff of the WCML allowed me a sad snap with their false idol, then and there I declared it my life’s aim to find and meet the real one. You have a dream, you make it happen… Either that or you just sit around for long enough until he does come to Salford.  Bagpuss 02 Read more…

Saying Shoo to a Goose

I once found a good-looking Asian checkout girl in Tesco who had piercing blue eyes. She was a right Peter O’Toole. I didn’t have the courage, the first time I saw her, but on the second occasion I asked what I thought was the obvious question.goose Read more…

Tastes like Orange – Part Three

I got an empty seat a couple of rows behind their table, fascinated by the exchange, and I started making notes. Well you would, wouldn’t you? I had to know how this story ended.Virgin Trains Class 390 Pendolino Standard Class Interior

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Tastes like Orange – Part Two

Stepping onto the platform of Macclesfield train station I looked to my right, to see a cluster of people anonymously milling about, whilst to my left there was an interesting-looking brunette with strong features and wonderful thick eyebrows sat alone on a bench. How long do you think it took me to decide which to investigate?orangina (500x333)

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Tastes like Orange – Part One

It was amidst World Cup fever that I got on the bus for the short hop to the station. I say fever although I rather think that whichever rancid strain of Nazi bacteria it is that’s responsible might actually have succumbed to the nation’s last useful dose of penicillin as the local atmosphere had been muted in comparison to previous years when every car fluttered tacky window flags and the local pub, in a fevered expression of patriotism, sloshed the red paint to make the exterior resemble a giant flag of Saint George. England Football Flag Pub

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