Bus stop pick up? Driver-change? Brake? Stop. Break. Driver desperate, desires to kill – ten minutes, just ten minutes of our time. Spluttering stop; bus cranks out in lullaby lay-by. Engine gasps, grumbles, grizzles, groans; passengers fidget and fudge – ferocious and desperate to kill. Driver’s all chewed-up, choking, croaking – “Just ten minutes!” HoldingContinue reading “Fag-Stop Killer”
Author Archives: The Silly-Savvy Salopian
Refuel
Cumin, chilli, coriander, turmeric – combined, create turmoil in my head … Confused, dizzy and disorientated, I resist further intoxication, hold my breath, ignore the rumbling pleas from the labyrinth within and stumble onwards to Head Street to the 754, that waits patiently for today’s meal, an undernourished battery hen, past its best, unable toContinue reading “Refuel”
Tenner An Hour
‘Tisn’t bad, for a tenner an hour, to take the 87, for a morning run, for a couple of hours and a couple of passengers, for a break from routine, a drive to the town. The money’s not bad, if you’re on the way out From a life on the go … a pilot’s careerContinue reading “Tenner An Hour”
Bus Youths
Flaps – dark eye-shutters, open at right angles to head-windows – clear, translucent, sparkling ports of access to a mass of perfectly-tuned, white-grey matter. Still young, still sprightly, and polished, ready to take on another day, to make synaptic deliveries, to utter profundities to similarly fresh-minded acquaintances about: the nocturnal habits of toilet rolls, enlistedContinue reading “Bus Youths”
Not Now
Two and a half hours, I’ve had to wait. Two and a half hours, I’ve been standing waiting here at this bus stop stuck desperate. See this hand here, my hand. See the hole here, in the middle. A knife hole. Last night. Last night I stopped a fight. Grabbed the knife. See, the hole,Continue reading “Not Now”
High Street Millionaire
Wrap me in; keep the gap closed. This is my space, on the pavement, in the High Street, by the window. My space. Pirate flag. Plastic cutlass. Open book. Marking my page, and my space … next to and part of McDonald’s. A multi-millionaire. A McDonald’s man, with a little bit of pavement – toContinue reading “High Street Millionaire”
Lost in the Lavender at Haughley
Lost in the Lavender at Haughley It’s fortunate for some, perhaps, that my role as a Portacabin Loo Inspector is just a sideline. In reality, I’m here at Haughley Park Farm’s Sheepdog Trials, to inspect the comedians. It’s a difficult job, especially when one has shrivelled-up soaking wet (no, not that – I’m female – IContinue reading “Lost in the Lavender at Haughley”
The Story of Haughley Park Farm’s Lost Mutton
I’m pacing up and down in a wet field at Haughley Park Farm, on a desperate quest to locate Suffolk Punch Comedy Club’s latest venue. ‘Just head straight on in there,’ PJ, the emcee, instructed (ordered), ‘and follow the ‘Competitors’ sign!’ What he neglected to inform me about was that, in order to compete, I’dContinue reading “The Story of Haughley Park Farm’s Lost Mutton”
A Grilling at The Tap
Grilled. I’m red hot, so hot that I’ve turned white-hot and I’m here at The Brewery Tap gagging for a pint of their speciality ‘mango’ cider. But, alas, it’s not to be. My timing is not so hot as the rest of me! I’ve been pipped to the bar by the most generous punter in Sudbury. Not content with orderingContinue reading “A Grilling at The Tap”
Groundhog Day at Leestock
Suffolk Punch Comedy at the Leestock Festival Suffolk Punch Comedy’s show, hosted by the emcee Pauline Eyre, every child’s nightmare of an embarrassing yes-I-think-I’m-funny mum, gets off to a cracking Sunday start: Why did the baker wash his hands? We don’t know Pauline Eyre! Why did the baker wash his hands? Because he’d kneadedContinue reading “Groundhog Day at Leestock”
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 