Short stories

"Every time it rains it feels like I'm being cleansed! Shouts a man with a guitar, beaming round at the people with umbrellas and hoods hurrying past him. I wander past with my hands in my pockets, rain bouncing off my head. The man is standing with his bare feet apart, grinning straight ahead. He sees me watching him and jumps up, clapping the balls of his feet together in quick succession. "I'm learning to do three! He says, slapping his feet together twice before they land back onto the cobbles. "I'll do it! "I hope you do. I say, without stopping. "I'll call you Mary! He shouts, rain dripping off the end of his nose.

I'd like to tie a piece of string around my parakeet's foot and carry him along with me, like a balloon, but he can't bear it.

A very drunken man has just left my bar. I accidentally gave him alcohol before I realised how drunk he was. He looked at me too intensely as if he'd forgotten himself. His mouth twitched like there were words inside that wanted to come out.

Pissmop has been brought back from the dead and this time he's a twinkly eyed, silver fox. I never saw the man he grew into but I can guess he was nothing like this.

I see the spanner just before it connects with my dad’s head, feel the jolt of it through his arms as he tries to lift me off the floor.

The black floor is painted with tippex and poster paints: CF loves ML, EH loves ML, KA loves ML. It is a time in our lives when we all love the same boy and there is no problem with that.

I just sat there the whole time, listening to the Eastenders theme tune with a straight face like one of those comedians who never laughs at their own jokes.