Brexit Fables

Brexit Fable 1

Mr Cthulhu: Who here wants tentacles? Much better than human limbs.

Sleepwalkers: We do! Gimme tentacles!

Mr Cthulhu eviscerates them

Sleepwalkers: WTF! Our guts are hanging out!

Mr Cthulhu: Nah, that’s tentacles.

Sleepwalkers die in agony

Brexit Fable 2

Taxi Driver: Where to?

Passenger: Paradise, mate.

Driver: This YouTube video shows that Paradise is actually Hell. Stay put?

Passenger: Just take me to Paradise.

Driver: But you’ll burn forever.

Passenger: DON’T CARE. TAKE ME TO PARADISE!

Brexit Fable 3

Mr Phuq: Let’s build a house together! I’ve got enough bricks for a wall.

The people: Yes, let’s!

Time passes

Mr Phuq: I feel stifled by this house you’ve subjected me to. I’m off.

Mr Phuq removes his wall & uses the bricks to build himself a kennel.

Brexit Fable 4

The Bird King: You should stab yourself in the face with these scissors.

Bloke: Why?

The Bird King: To show the “experts” who’s boss! The experts who tell you that stabbing yourself in the face with these scissors will harm you. Be a man!

Bloke: Oh, Ok then.

Brexit Fable 5

Goat Man: Yay! Let’s eat this beef. ALL OF IT!

Sheep Boy: Ok. Hang on, it looks kinda rank. Is it supposed to be green? Also, it stinks.

Goat Man: We said we’d eat it, so we’ll eat it.

Sheep Boy: OK.

They devour the rotten meat and die in agony.

Brexit Fable 6

Maggot: We must push our planet out of the sun’s orbit if we are to free ourselves of its bureaucratic, unelected tyranny!

Masses: YES! Deep Space, not Deep State!

One: Won’t that destroy life on earth?

Maggot: Your point is…?

One: Nothing. Let’s do it!

Brexit Fable 7

Imbecile: Hey, who wants to shoot themselves in the face?

52%: WE DO!

Imbecile: Great! That means you all have to, btw.

48%: WTF!!!!!!!!!

52%: Pass me the gun!

Brexit Fable 8

Fucker: Hey, if you eat this tablet I’ll plant a money tree in your garden.

Credulous bloke: Oh, OK. What’s in the tablet, btw?

Fucker: Don’t worry about it. Cyanide. Nothing much.

Credulous bloke: I like money trees. (Eats cyanide pill.)

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The State of It

let me be clear BrickShit means BrickShit means BrickShit means BrickShit bra-caaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwww

well um I couldn’t possibly piffle and wotsit and so on and so forth and letterboxes and piles of piffle and wotsit and what-not and so on and so forth a jolly good future leader future Pimm’s o’clock and what-not Prime o’clock piffle Minister and so forth

a return to the perfectly simple arrangements made during the Troubles whereby divisions were maintained exacerbated inflamed and security forces were able to carry out their very simple duties such as exchanging gunfire suppressing riots disposing of bombs all perfectly simple and sensible

Ronald McDonald Trump

The “killer clown” craze that began in the United States has gone global, with incidents reported in the United Kingdom. The craze began in the U.S. in August with reports of people dressed as Donald Trump trying to lure children into the woods in South Carolina. And when you’re a star they let you do it. You can do anything. These are valid concerns expressed by decent and patriotic citizens from all backgrounds, all over. We also have to be honest about the fact that not everyone who seeks to join our country will be able to successfully assimilate. Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything. Schools in Reading, Ohio were closed after a woman reported being attacked by someone dressed as Donald Trump who threatened the students at her school. But the complaints extend far beyond Ohio. At least 40 states have had strange clown sightings so far, and the number keeps on growing. I did try and fuck her. She was married. It’s our right, as a sovereign nation to chose immigrants that we think are the likeliest to thrive and flourish and love us. The claims are preposterous, ludicrous, and defy truth, common sense and logic. We already have substantial evidence to dispute these lies, and it will be made public in an appropriate way and at an appropriate time very soon. The craze has prompted McDonald’s to keep its iconic clown, Ronald McDonald Trump, out of sight for now. You know I’m automatically attracted to beautiful clowns. I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. The recent epidemic of “killer clown” sightings across the U.S. may be the best thing about 2016 — and that’s saying a lot. I moved on her like a bitch, but I couldn’t get there. And she was married. In London, reports include a clown confronting a man with a hockey stick, clowns chasing children and a knife-carrying clown on a bicycle following a woman. Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything. Because we need a very powerful, very beautiful border. I moved on her like a bitch. And when you’re a star they let you do it. You can do anything. That will stop those people coming into our country.

Garish oneiric pop art

These are the pictures I made as part of my experimental review of M K L Murphy’s novel, The Isle of Minimus. Each comprises a photo of a page from the book, over which is superimposed an object that in some way (and for a particular purpose) represents a human being: a baby doll, a first aid dummy, Barbie dolls, a mannequin. I gave each picture a border, made the colours as gaudy and unnatural as possible and, in two cases, added large symbols and references to the viewer and/or artist (eyes, cameras). I wanted the pictures to connote playing cards or perhaps the starting point for a Twentyfirst Century tarot deck. Their garishness and symbolism sprang naturally from Murphy’s book.

Each of my four pictures became the stimulus for a short text, in which I played freely with characters, themes and images found in The Isle of Minimus. The four-part text-and-image piece is not so much a review of Murphy’s book as a rear view of it, an irreverent but affectionate take on it. I approached Murphy’s theatre not from the front, with its impressive facade, but from the back alley and through the stage door.

You can read my rear view at Minor Literatures.




The mannequins are more real than you

  
The mannequins favour zero gravity, breathlessness, the labyrinth of stars. 

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The mannequins inhabit a forgotten planet, orbiting your daydreams. 

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The mannequins will accuse you of anything. Their courtroom is lodged behind your eyes. 

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Time is kept on a leash. When the mannequins laugh, it digs up your bones. 

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Look in the mirror. While you slept, the mannequins left scarlet lipstick stains on your throat. 

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Originally published as a series of tweets.