Category Archives: Fiction

Pest

Posted on 31/08/2021 by Wichita Lineman Was A Song I Once Heard

Speculating why and when he started to behave this way was a regular occurrence in many sitting rooms during evenings when mediocre television made tawdry topics of conversation a necessity. One hypothesis was a microscopic brain tumour in the pituitary … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction | Tagged 10kg of illegal product in a carrier bag, Abdul’s, Casualty, Champagne Socialists, Community Council, Diets, ER, Fiction, Flip phones in 2021, Hair transplant, Hard hat head-butt, House, Jaggery, Matriarch, Mediocre television, Paranoia, Pest, Pituitary gland, Porcine profile, Range Rover, Salmon, Scotland, Shooting squirrels on a golf course, Sleeping policemen, Suburban cuntery, Supersized emperor penguin, Tablet, Tittle-tattle, Turkey, Union city man | Leave a comment

Charles Manson was a person too

Posted on 31/10/2019 by Wichita Lineman Was A Song I Once Heard

It was fitting that he’d finally decide to go through with it right as the rambunctious crescendo of ‘Socialist Suicide’, with its violent imagery of scabs committing various forms of the act in the safe heavens of their homogenised suburban … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction | Tagged Adolf, American, anti-establishmentarianism, Baby Boomers, Black Sabbath, Buzzcocks, Charles Manson, David Bowie, Disco, Elton John, Finding Polanski, Genghis, Glam Rock, Hey Joe, Jimi Hendrix, Josef, Joseph Beuys, Krautrock, Led Zeppelin, Mick Taylor, Patti Smith, Pistols, Prog Rock, Socialist Suicide, Spliffs and rotgut wine, Station to Station, The Beatles, The Clash, the Ramones, The Rolling Stones, The Stooges | Leave a comment

Addicted to Porn

Posted on 31/05/2019 by Wichita Lineman Was A Song I Once Heard

‘Mr Mansfield-Bosworth, what are the justifications for tabling said policy?’ ‘We aim to make it another facet of the post-Brexit strategy’ ‘And why is that?’ ‘It’ll be for the youth’ ‘The youth?’ ‘Yes, and I haven’t seen this brought up … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction | Tagged Addicted to Porn, Anti-abortion, augmented breasts, Brexit, Buttplugs, Derek Dong, Desperate Househusbands 2, Ejaculation, Escourting, Eyeball licking, Fetishes, Fiction, Fur suit fucking, Jeremy Kyle, LGBT, Mandingo members, Mansfield-Bosworth, Maria Master-Bates, Max Clifford, necrophilia, Neil Hamilton, paedophilia, Porn, porn exposé, PornHub, Red Tops, Romanian fruit pickers, Shagging in the Auschwitz gas chambers, Sodomised with a cucumber, Sorry this is nearly 3000 words long, Stacey Slapp, Stephen Byers, Untermenschen | Leave a comment

How not to cook Bear stew

Posted on 28/02/2019 by Wichita Lineman Was A Song I Once Heard

My temper has always been problematic. While it caused the accident, the real damage was done by every decision I made in its wake. This meant the accident could not be perceived as anything other than maliciously premeditated. Public absolution … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized | Tagged Ballard-esque, Bear, Bird collar, Cat, Dogs on Death Row, Fiction, Gammon, How not to cook Bear stew, Less than 2000 words, Noncewatch, Rolf Harris, Short Story, Sociopathic | 1 Comment

USB 2.no

Posted on 25/01/2018 by Wichita Lineman Was A Song I Once Heard

We won’t go into forensic detail what’s on it. Suffice to say it’s the sort of gruesome violence that’s conjured by psychopathic self-indulgence, which Daily Mail and Express readers cleave to in complete hypocrisy. Publicly they’re repulsed, privately its qualities … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction | Tagged 2000 words, 4.5mm Beretta, Andrew and Roger, Are you a fan of industrial estate chic?, Can't think of any other tags, Creeps, Daily Mail and Express readers cleave to psychopathic self-indulgence, Fiction, It's 2018!, Need a new laptop, No backwards compatibility, Obsolete, She who will remain nameless, Short Story, USB 2.no | Leave a comment