By Helen Grant At work in the now vacated hotel room, I see a newspaper left behind and put it in my bag on the linen trolley. Back home, I bundle pages into the hungry stove and I burn The Sun. #DarkPoetsClub #DarkHumourBitterIrony

By Murray Eiland Looking down I see a dead cat, In front of an apartment building, In finance, they speak of a dead cat bounce, A small glimmer of hope in a sea of decline. Did the cat jump from a great height, Seeking excitement, seeking adventure? Or did it simply slip and fall, Taking a risk, paying the price? No matter how long I stare, I see no bounce, no recovery, While a broker may see potential, I see only loss. #DarkPoetsClub #DarkHumourBitterIrony

By Giles Constable First evidence of the campaign came at dawn. Early risers found bouquets of carefully matched flowers laid softly at their doors. The trials of the citizens were to continue throughout the day. Inspirational music was widely piped across suburbs and divisions of dancers blocked essential thoroughfares. Disputed footage shows a man violently hugged by a clown. We most fear the poetry, a young father said, There are rumours of recitals. And if that begins, h