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DiScOmBoBuLaTe DiScOmBoBuLaTe is a monthly 'wit-lit' event held at the CCA in Glasgow.
'Pillars of the Community' (extract from my short story 'Pillars of the Community', appearing on BBC Radio 4, January 2008) ...I’m desperate for a free meal, so I knock four times at the door. One. Two. Three. Four. We wait. Daphne points at the gold plaque over the letterbox. ‘What do you think the M in Mr and Mrs M. Robson stands for?’ she hisses. ‘Mm-maniac,’ shivers Jonny. ‘Murderer,’ Daphne whispers. ‘Meal-ticket,’ I say, just as Mrs Robson opens the door. She’s wearing a breezy yellow dress with puff sleeves and I feel like we’re about to go for a picnic. ‘Come on in,’ she chimes. We file in: hungry, excited, nervous. We’re led into a sparse living room, with only two items furnishing the space. In one corner is a flat-screen TV, and in the other is a straight-backed man. This is Mr Robson. He stands poised, arm extended. His smart blue suit doesn’t have a single crease in it, and I forget about the picnic and feel like I’m about to go for an interview. Mrs Robson excuses herself to finish preparing the food. ‘Excuse me,’ she says, and goes. Mr Robson clucks like a hen, and I hope this is a one-off because it makes for a nasty habit. Then he passes a bowl down the line and tells us to help ourselves to an olive. I take three. He asks us if we’d like a drink. ‘Yes go please just on a little then one,’ our trio babbles back at him. A tidy gin and tonic is inserted into our right hands. Jonny moves his glass to his left hand because he is left-handed, not because it’s a nervous thing. I take three more olives. Mr Robson clucks again. Obviously it is a nasty habit. 'Grace' (extract from my short story 'Grace', published 2006) ...She picked it up and read it aloud, like the first clue of a treasure hunt. 'We called to deliver a parcel at 8.03 am this morning but you were out. Please call us to re-arrange a delivery.' Someone had written the 8.03 am in blue biro. Next to where it said 'parcel' they had crossed out 'packet'. How peculiar! Who would deliver a parcel to her? Deliver. Delivery. What slimy words. We called. You were out. Please call us. It was like a showing-off, a telling-off, and an invitation all in one. Was it all true? They had called. Yes. But she was not out. So should she call them? Maybe she should write her own card and post it back through the letterbox. You called. I was not out. Please call again. Dear Felix Click here to see the short film I starred in called 'Dear Felix', made by Katy McAulay in Spring 2008.
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