Jed woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Underneath, to be precise. He was surrounded by dust, crusty socks and the monsters he’d banished many years ago. They looked beautiful, less frightening. He invited them to join him on top of the bed, but they shook their heads. Their eyes suggested they were scared of him. Jed returned to the right side of his bed with a renewed sense of self-confidence and a plan of action for the year ahead.
© Carl Burkitt 2018
Penny woke up with
roughly 2,018 things to do.
She shut her mouth,
got on with it
and it all turned out pretty well.
© Carl Burkitt 2018
The letter between X and V
On my keyboard is stuk.
I an’t use it, I’m out of luk.
From this day forth
When I email y’all
I’ll be signing off:
All the best, arl.
© arl Burkitt 2017
I wish I had a voice like John Cooper Clarke
It would make writing poems such a lark
I’d just list towns and nouns
And the names of wallies with frowns
I wish I had a voice like John Cooper Clarke
So I could say things that are relatively dark
But still produce smiles for miles
With my rather dark art
I wish I had a voice like John Cooper Clarke
And just read out the phone book
From Anderson to Mark
To Park, Spark and Stark
I wish I had a voice like John Cooper Clarke
And I’m not gonna lie
I would probably just say PIE and TWAT
And really, that’s that.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
UNREAL DEALS! the email’s subject line read.
God, Jerry thought. Marketing’s gross. Bet they’re not even any good.
He opened the email and ran his eyes down the offers.
BUY ONE T-SHIRT AND GET A LIVE-IN UNICORN FOR FREE!
£10,000,000 FOR NEW CUSTOMERS, JUST BECAUSE WE CAN!
BUY TODAY AND GET A TWO-YEAR, ALL-EXPENSES PAID HOLIDAY!
USE OFFER CODE ‘LOVELY’ AND GET A DEAD RELATIVE OF YOUR CHOOSING BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE!
Hmm not bad, Jerry thought.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
Melvyn Bragg discusses Wuthering Heights
Nick Robinson’s scared of alternative news sites
The Big Breakfast turns 25
91-year-old Hugh Hefner dies
The PM says we’ve all sacrificed for the banking crisis
Carlton Cole nears move to Crystal Palace
Poets explore the theme of Freedom
As we all plan for World War Threedom
© Carl Burkitt 2017
How’s work?
Saw your holiday pics on Facebook. Looked nice.
Where you living now?
Can’t make it tonight but have one for me!
Reckon you could sponsor me?
Your family good?
#WengerIn
I’m alright, not much to report.
Seen anyone from school lately?
Brexit, eh?
I’ll send you the link.
Let’s get something in the diary.
Happy 30th, mate.
I miss you.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
Ralph walked home from the shops
clutching a packet of eggs.
As he felt them gently
move around in their container,
with each step he took,
he thought about how delicate life was.
When Ralph tripped over a curb
and smashed every single egg,
he got a call from him mum
to say his dad had died.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
He felt trapped
in an odd-shaped prison
too awkward to escape.
Squashed against the sides he
pushed with his hands and feet
but nothing budged.
Except his bones.
They began moving backwards,
tightening against his skin
which remained still,
odd-shaped,
awkward to escape.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
Ethan grabbed an apple and an orange
and decided to finally compare the two.
He looked at the apple. Round.
He looked at the orange. Round.
He stroked the apple. Skin.
He stroked the orange. Skin.
He smelt the apple. Sweet.
He smelt the orange. Sweet.
He crushed the apple. Mummy.
He crushed the orange. Daddy.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
Carl tells tales 