The poet’s iPhone Notes froze.
All of the keys on her laptop dissolved.
The ink in her pens dried out.
The lead in her pencils melted.
She looked around her room.
Where had all the beauty gone?
The walls looked beiger than normal;
Her windows grubby;
The carpet claggy;
Her ceiling black.
The poet sat on her chair
And picked her nose.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
The X Factor contestant’s mum died. His dog ran away from home. His kids found out their favourite teacher had been nicking their packed lunches. His landlord used his flat as a porn set. His sister killed his kitten. His brother-in-law turned inside out. His next door neighbour ate his bin bags. And his dad exploded. But despite all of this, he was voted off for being shit at singing.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Norman, Cook!
Robert, Plant!
Laura, Trott!
Christian, Bale!
Russell, Crowe!
John, Hurt!
Julianne, Moore!
Tom, Cruise!
© Carl Burkitt 2016
The eulogist died
To a smattering of applause.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Jeff hated small talk
So chopped off his tongue.
“Almost the weekend!”
“That weather, eh?”
“You’re quiet, mate.”
Jeff glared at his ears.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
The funniest thing about Zara was her head.
Well, not her head, rather what was ON her head.
No, not her hair…
Guess you had to be there.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Gerald ate a teacup –
The fucking idiot.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Joe purchased 12 eggs.
He ate 2 of them
Then 6
Then 1
He bought 24 more
And ate 16
Then 9
‘How many eggs did Joe eat?’
Asked the coroner.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
All of the clouds fell out of the sky.
The people on the floor helped stick them back on.
Everyone but Ben, who kept one.
Just in case.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
He decided to dance in public.
He shook everything.
EVERYTHING.
Left to right.
Then left to right.
Then right to left when he realised he’d JUST GONE LEFT TO RIGHT.
He went on for ages.
Everyone saw.
EVERYONE.
Then the entire planet went to their individual homes and each person was fine.
Even the person that decided to dance in public.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
