In My Mind

Don’t really know what to say about fIREHOSE, cos I don’t know that much about them, except that I like their noise. They’re punky and jazzy, and guitarist/singer Ed Crawford has a winning way with a vocal tune. In my bass-playing days, Mike Watt (bassist with Minutemen and fIREHOSE) was an absolute hero, and I got to tell him that one time via myspace and he totally replied and everything. I was very chuffed.

Anyway. This is the sound of summer love.

Friday’s Short Story

“It’s one small step… What the..!?”

Yes! It’s six word sci-fi story time again. I haven’t written any short stories in a while, so I’m easing myself back in. Here’s a few more:

George Lucas. Time machine. History “improved”.

In parallel universe, this story better.

Repressed gay aliens enjoy closet encounters.

Aliens send Neil Armstrong parking ticket.

Danger signs: Skynet app for iPhone.

Monster in his pants – no metaphor.

Maverick mad scientist breaks all the rules.

Her perfume is my time machine.

(inspired by – oh, all right, nicked from – Wired Magazine.)

Inspired to write your own? I’d love to read ’em! Pop em in the comments…

Previous six word sci-fi stories.

Six Word Sci-Fi 2
by Harris
more tiny tales

The Uninvisibles

…the show you can’t not see!

The what now? The Uninvisibles! A group of eight writer/performers doing a sketch show in Edinburgh this year, innit. (And man, you wouldn’t believe how hard it is to come up with a name for a group when there’s eight of you. It’s like getting a crate of kittens to, well, come up with a not-rubbish name for a sketch group. The kittens chose well, I think.)

The Uninvisibles are: Gary Skipper, Phil Tipper, Chris Stanners, Graham Lee, Hayley Ellis, Kathy Eastham, Kahn Johnson and me. All are lovely too, kind, generous and funny and with good skin care routines. All of us are writing and performing, and working out dance routines and sewing our own costumes.

We’ve been rehearsing fairly regularly, in a cold room above a pub in Leeds, and I’m pretty excited by the whole thing. The writing is sharp and varied, and it’s always amazing to see stuff you’ve written take life in front of you. And the pub does brilliant chips.

There’s a real sense of ambition, not career-ambition but ambition as to what a live sketch show can be. Funny, hopefully. But also varied. A comedy concerto as Mr Tipper put it, which sounds like it should mean something, doesn’t it? Something good. So that’s what we’re going to try and do. Something good.

The Uninvisibles: trying to do something good. Hmm… we might not put that on the poster…


1842: Life expectancy in Victorian England was around 40 years. The simple reason for this was that children grew up faster, often starting work as blacksmiths, chimney sweeps or adorable mobile hatstands as early as three years old. They were generally regarded as disposable labour by the industrial middle classes; the work was hard, the hours gruelling, and the lovemaking often less than tender. Here four 19-year old factory workers are photographed at their retirement party, shortly before being taken out the back and dismantled for spares.

More Historicals.