ONE NIGHT IN KALAMAJA
While sat on the sofa and browsing the internet, we were suddenly aware of movement nearby. An intruder was here, and was approaching us. Having lived in Moss Side for several years, I was somewhat prepared for such intrusions. Silently, I crossed the room and slid on my stealth black arctic gloves. I improvised a blunt weapon from the items immediately available to me. As the intruder came closer and without hesitation, I swiftly crossed the room with the brutal graceness of an octopus with PMS, and with arms poised with glass jar in hand I dealt a precise and deadly blow, and felt the sound of glass crushing into the back of my foe’s head.
That fucking spider never knew what hit it.
BY MARK COWAN
Now give me my Nobel prize already.