This is a football.

And this is what a football looks like. There is nothing stuck to it; no hair or gold or teeth. It carries no messages and whispers only rushing air. All the players may touch it with their hands but feet are more effective. It longs to be caressed and dreams of coming to a spinning stop and settling at the junction of net and turf. The football is our friend. Somebody wants to burst it with a biro pen, somebody has written his name all over it with a silver marker. It has become tawdry and vulgar, a candy-coated Kruggerand. Take off your fucking ties and get down in the dirt. This is what a football looks like.—More Tales


Answers to the name “Binky”. Will come when called. Do not feed E numbers.

Call: 0141 729 01482


Please, please – if you have seen Binky, get in touch. Small token rewarded for safe return. Must have original legs.—More Untruths


He danced like a junkie muppet undergoing electrocution.

Still missed by all who witnessed his crazy fistfights with the air.—More Rants/Slates