By Elliot Chester “Hi, how’re you?” the waitress asks, assuming I’m ok. “Hello, I’m good,” is what she thinks I’m really going to say. “I don’t indulge in pleasantries, nor superficial shit.” She clicks her pen, and flicks her hair, then blushes, just a bit. “I speak my mind, that’s what I’ve learnt, I’ll state just how I feel. You’re mercilessly unprepared to listen to my spiel. I suffer from insomnia, my eyes are always sore, ‘cos every night I peel figmental shadows off th

By Andriana Minou They say The Sphinx was a giant mosquito Sucking the peasants’ blood all night Digesting it all day. Oedipus had a little think There was no swatter Big enough to get her. Enter Tiresias The blind prophet With his legendary breasts – aka Mr National Boobs – Whispering in Oedipus’ ear. Oedipus got so horny He forgot his own name. He ran to his mama And she slept with him Like any good old mama Rescuing him from Mr National Boobs’ claws. But in the morning Oed

By Sister Chain Standing at the duty-free shop with a dad who didn’t care on our final holiday together I ask him to recommend a bottle of whisky, “for who?” “a friend” “If it’s a good friend, then this one’s best,” he regally points to a smoky 12-year-old single malt that’s way above the budget of an English major, and does not offer to add it to his cart. Nor do I ask. I bring the fancy bottle in a cab tracing the embossment to avoid the driver and try not to make a big dea