• Whiteboard Scattergraph
    It was like that angst in the chest you mentioned, but then it exploded. My Self was in a hundred fragments.All I had was a bed and a skylight, a window on the incomprehensible.Drifting off, I muddled cliffs and gardens: Was it West Bay, Lyme Regis or Sidmouth?Football grounds merged: part Brunton Park, part Craven […]
  • The Ghost of Barry Bannan
    A slow moving weather system, burdened by a week of brooding, low-lying internet traffic will break or settle in the pre-match huddle. Straining my eyes; who is that team? They were so far gone from the first leg as to be forgotten in the present: out of place – a relic from last season; is […]
  • The Reducer
    With gravity at a low centre, you danced around temporary pairs with teams matched up player for player. Without seeing, but in your field of consciousness you could sense it coming: the reducer. Their manager said ‘send a message’ so seconds in you evaded the signature for a package gaining force and momentum and speed […]
  • Wembley
    Wembley you’ve been livin’ hell to me with your Hanger Lane gyratory traffic for no reason, regardless of the season, and the IKEA cafe’s run out of lingonberry. Wembley, I hate every inch of you. Your corporate hell scars me through and through. And I’ll walk from your famous arch a sad, dejected man; every […]
  • The Myth of the Man with Time
    You hear it at every 5-a-side: the myth of the man with time. He’s rarely there, but you hear his name. ‘Paul – he must be 60 now – dictates the game.’ He’s reached the point where he rarely runs, but exudes a past in higher echelons. He can pick a pass and he’s a […]