I’m sitting in the dinosaur section of Leicester’s New Walk Museum. I can see a bunch of dusty old bones to my right, surrounded by a bunch of pensioners. A few years ago I would’ve made the kind of joke where you go: “I’m sitting in the dinosaur section of Leicester’s New Walk Museum. I can see a bunch of dusty old bones to my right… I can see a few dinosaurs too!” But I don’t make that joke today, for two reasons: 1) I’m less of a dickhead these days. 2) In this museum, it’s the pensioners who are laughing, winding each other up and running around, and it’s the two young people who are sitting still, staring at their screens, petrifying into time.

© Carl Burkitt 2018

2018 vs 2012

I’m a quarter of an inch shorter than I was in 2012 (weirdly)

Babies look cuter
And I want one

I pack way more than I need

I’ve got less hair on my head
More hair on my chest
(Even more in my nose and ears)

I rarely watch new films
And find comfort in repeats

People are incredibly opinionated

I get way more shit stuck in my gums

I dance a bit less
I sing loads more

The sun (ball in the sky) is less stressful for me
The Sun (newspaper) is really stressful for me

Shampoo is very expensive
My scalp is grateful

I’m less proud of myself
But more comfortable saying so

Vegetables are a main ingredient

I ask more questions

I’m closer to touching my toes

If I like something, I admit it
If I hate something, I’m more delicate

I celebrate others as much as I can

My floorboards creak louder

I stretch more

I smile less
But laugh more heavily

I feel safer

I’ve found my tribe

© Carl Burkitt 2018

Deadline Day

Transfer deadline day makes me think of you.
Late nights drinking in your memory
over news coming through of ridiculously over-priced moves.
Clubs losing their stars like we lost ours,
fans reluctantly told to move on.
But this year things have changed.
They moved the date forward from your birthday
to the middle of August
and made Premier League teams
finalise things before the new year began.
But the lower league lot still have tonight.
So while the big wigs sleep tight,
Swindon will be up all night
toasting a ’keeper they wish they held on to.

© Carl Burkitt 2018


The man got his face tattooed on to his face.
A much older version of his face, though.
He did it as an experiment to see if anyone would notice or say anything.
No-one said a thing.
In fact, no-one even went anywhere near him.
‘London’s so bloody antisocial,’ he thought.

© Carl Burkitt 2018