I am a writer. I imagine in a parallel universe I might be a caricaturist or a botanist or somewhere asleep on the moon. But here I am a writer, armed with an astrophysics degree, a Paperchase pen and a half empty box of biscuits
Forbidden Fruit Wholesalers Through Time™
It takes 17 seconds for me to walk 156,000 years into the past. “Eat the apple,” I hiss at the completely ill-informed faces of two rather naked people. It’s meant politely, of course, though nothing sounds quite as quaint when delivered from the tongue of a poisoned mouth.
a diary of the devil and a banana split
Dear Luther. And regards to the devil. People tell you to “sink your teeth in,” don’t they? To a project, I imagine. A venture. An adventure. To perform energetically. To do so with enthusiasm and vigour. To be at your best, your hundredest most hundred percent. Sink so deep that you’re practically holding the thing with your gums. That’s what people say, so I hear.