Friday Fictioneers: Behind the velvet curtain lies more of the same

Good evening, as I sit here in a poorly appointed, very chilly bar of a Rugby Club my son recently joined, I think how lucky I am to have a new laptop to scribble this nonsense on, its wet outside, really wet and from my vantage point I can see Rochelle has built an Ark and is beckoning the FF crew on board. Thanks for that. Thanks also to Sandra Crook for providing the photograph, it’s a striking one. So lets see if under 15s tactics from next door can inspire me…

On My Marks…

Get Set..


The coastal town saw hardship during the pandemic and never really recovered.

The local sculptor had been beavering away behind a mesh of scaffold and sheeting; builders anti-climb fencing protected the work, preventing vandals and ne’er-do-wells from ruining the exhibit.

The scaffold and fencing stowed away on the far side of the beach; the Mayor, a reality TV star and a onetime Darts Champion presided over the grand opening, recorded by various regional Television stations and watched by literally hundreds of teatime viewers.

The green velvet curtain was removed; the gathered crowd, here for the hotdogs, left thoroughly underwhelmed.

There we go, a critique of 100 words on the terrible place we find ourselves living in today, glossy magazines and shiny signs but very little substance.


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