Autobiographical piece of fiction of what sort of happened but didn’t really for legal reasons. Set in Devon in the mid nineteen eighties.

Down the fairground with an aging teddy boy, goldfish in a bag and a fishwife lothario.

Drunk story - possibly one of those ‘had to be there’ moments but still amusing if you weren’t!

By the way this really happened. Yesterday, walking to the tube station to get to work as I do everyday, feeling groggy and tired from the anticipation of possibly facing work cut backs, my head nodding in tune with my footsteps. I am looking at the passing squares of the pavement wondering if today is the day. Everybody…

The calm and charming story of what happens when a gang of all-male, drug-crazed alcoholics share a quiet suburban house together. The names have been changed to protect the guilty, but you know who you are.

Another sordid tale of house sharing with hippies, perverts and junkies.

An irreverent and borderline illegal fight against being alone, under-employed and unloved in contemporary London.