Desolation row by Trevor Plumbly

‘They’re selling postcards of the hanging’ We’re in the election war zone again, and the buggers have armed themselves to the teeth with righteousness in the hope of convincing us they actually care what we think! Deep down, lots of us oldies feel it’s a wasted effort, but years of ‘don’t vote, don’t moan’ have brainwashed us to the extent that we now feel obliged to do it. It’s not that the essence of the process is wrong; it’s like religion really, it’d work fine if people didn’t tinker with it all… Read More

Look on my works ye mighty and despair by Angela Caldin

A corpulent man with an orange face stood on the Truman balcony at the White House wheezing after a slow ascent of the steps. He pulled his shoulders back and puffed out his chest, telling the world not to let the virus dominate their lives. Little comfort for the families and friends of the two million who have died. He peeled off his mask in a gesture that might have been rehearsed several times in front of a mirror, before going inside to let droplets of infection fall freely on members of… Read More

Poetry please by Angela Caldin

I’m delighted to say that our joint post with three limericks inspired by our feelings about Donald Trump reached our widest audience yet on Facebook (that’s what Facebook told us, so it must be true). Disappointingly though, none of our followers sent in a limerick of their own. This made us a little downcast, but our spirits rose again when we received not a limerick, but a whole poem from Ann Chapman which I’m taking the liberty of publishing here. I was going to add a photo of the leader of the… Read More