House of Farage


I’m in a modern house. Nigel Farage is there, it’s his place. Everything is white, the walls, the floors, the woodwork. Bright white light illuminates everything.

I’m uncomfortable in this environment. A camp black guy with blond hair extensions tells me it’s ok. I don’t believe him. There’s a noise from downstairs. In the cellar, Nigel keeps his monsters locked away. They are on loan to him from the CIA, who bred them just for this purpose. Mumbles of racism, sexism and homophobia can be heard from the green, glowing darkness the stairs descend into.

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Disappearance Alley


I’m in a town where people are vanishing. I’m sat outside the school, a multi-coloured cable snakes towards me. It is a broadband connection, it is here to connect to the school.

In my hand, I hold mixture of tiny blackberries and grains of sand magnified. Parents and children ask me if I have seen the missing people.

I’m inside the building which is now a hospital, two young lads are stealing things, they take me hostage and we enter a lift. Alarm bells ringing. They press the button in the lift for the basement. When the lift stops, they fall through the floppy doors into a dark space. I know they have fallen 25 feet down into a steam cleaning space. They are as good as dead.

I am saddened by this waste of life. I see their ghosts everywhere.

On the street there is a mini cooper, IRA style roof mortars point out of its sunroof. I take cover and tell my wife, Susan, to do the same. She hides behind a nearby van as the mortars launch and the mini cooper self-destructs, the shockwave passes us. She runs down an alleyway. I follow her but she is nowhere to be seen, her clothes are folded on a shelf in the alleyway. This is where people disappear.

I go back to work, at the building. I am still feeling guilty about the deaths. Then the two guys reappear. The steam room wasn’t turned on so they are still alive. I am relieved and very happy.

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Knowledge of Bugs


I am stood on a hill, a hill of duvet. Something alien glows beneath my feet. It moves. I run and hide in a fold of duvet.

The alien runs across me. It is a robotic, metallic spider, about the size of a sheep. It senses my breath somehow, the CO2, and begins to cut through the layers of duvet to get to me. I struggle with it. I think it wants to dissect my brain. It talks to me.

‘I need your right eye’, said the Spiderbot.

‘Sorry, but I’m using it right now, you can’t have it.’ Said I.

‘The machine needs it to see the world, I promise it won’t hurt’, said the Spiderbot.

Warily, I nod agreement. Spiderbot produces a metal disk on a wire, exactly like my piezoelectric pick up I got from Knowledge of Bugs.

He painlessly removes my right eye, and attaches it first to himself, for a quick test, and then onto a larger metal structure, some kind of spaceship I think. Spiderbot wanders along with me as we stroll along a path. We pass other people, who look at me with concern. I’m worried about how I look with my missing eye.

‘I worry all the time about how people see me,’ says Spiderbot.

I catch my reflection. My right eye socket is empty, hollow, and where my eye was thousands of tiny gold threads line this hollow and flow out onto my face. The machine sees through me, and I can see through the machine.

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With the Fascist Kids, It’s All About the Race


I am in Italy. Old, ruined buildings have faded posters of Italian fascism on them. I read old documents in Italian. I find folders of children’s drawings and schoolwork. The building is a school. Kids come in. We follow them outside, where they sing and dance and play. I film them on my iPhone, with a weird telephoto lens, it makes everything like old film, a silent movie.

I show the kids earlier stuff I filmed. Penny falling off a ladder. They laugh.

We are racing around a track in a park. On roller skates. I am travelling backwards, almost horizontal. I can’t see where I’m going. It’s hard to slow down for bends. I pass a couple of people, but don’t win the race. I don’t care about winning, I’ve had fun!

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Ellie and the Ant-Child


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People are cosplaying dinosaurs, then insects. Insects have a minimum height requirement. I find this hilarious. They wear strange six limbed onsies.

Ellie is friends with a young boy who shares her condition, having two extra arms, and an extended abdomen. Ellie finds it makes it easier to play piano.

We take him to a lab on an island. Inside is a huge intelligent ants nest. It is poorly secured. Doors are not locked, or any proof. I watch a small scorpion crawl under a glass door and get devoured.

There’s a bridge,like an extending drawbridge, off the island. They never use it. We agree to operate on the ant-boy quickly. We are airlifted off. On the flight Ellie gets ill.

I fly the helicopter. It navigates using a robot arm following waypoints on a huge paper map.

We have taken some ants with us. They have bitten Ellie. She will be their new queen.

Her head on a giant ant body, hanging from a ceiling, saying,
‘I didn’t want this, I didn’t need this’.

She is approached by her child. A similar ant hybrid with the head of a black and white cat. They talk. I can’t understand the language.

Wolverhampton. A friend comes out of prison. He needs money. I offer to help him. He threatens to remove a finger if I don’t wank him off. He has developed a fetish for hand jobs while in prison.

I decline and try to escape. He catches up with me, and I push him through a window. Inside this house is a dead pensioner.

We climb in to see what we can steal. We are in wet suits. The pensioner writhes under the blankets on her bed, not dead. I escape. Through many doors, like fire doors in a care home.

I join a crowd at a drag race. My friends are mistaken for Stock, Aitkin and Waterman.

I throw sweets onto the track and into a nearby river, trying to kill a small annoying child. We all end up in the water. There’s a valve we can climb up through. I joke about it being like a birth canal in reverse. It’s some kind of sewage channel.

An old house. A family of feral chavs. They have offended the wrong person. An alien-human with a golden external cerebellum, he eliminates the key members of the family and leaves the rest to starve.

He turns to me as I sleep, operating on me, saying that my eye would suit one of his children’s reconstructed bodies. I have sleep paralysis, I can’t move, I’m numb.

I am in a weird room. Everything is in the wrong place. The dimensions are wrong. Floating TVs play a music video by an 80s hair metal band. It’s a cover of Zounds ‘Can’t Cheat Karma’. I know it can’t be real, I try to remember the bands name to google it when I wake up. I forget the name when I actually wake up.

There’s a huge chaise lounge made from the corpse of a whale, it looks like it’s on the ceiling. It’s hard to tell. Directions are relative in this room. I try to remember how I got here. I remember being outside. Two women who wouldn’t shut up talking about their parents. I sneak away from them. Around a corner, a muddy path. Walking through mud with lines of Jewish schoolboys on a day trip. The mud becomes snow. Cars slide by, nearly hitting me. Ahead there’s a blockage in the road. I help the Jewish teachers remove it with a shovel. I thought it was just ice. As I breakthrough it I realise a dam has burst, I’m falling through the air in slow motion, then a freeze frame with a soundtrack, like a Call of Duty cut scene you can’t skip.

I’m back floating in the weird room. Slowly, it becomes something like normal again. My wife and daughter bring done shopping in. I ask them what’s wrong with me. My wife scowls and tells me to wait while she gets something for me, some kind of odour spray so she can bear to look at me.

She says I should look in the mirror. I have Lupus.

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