Tom Wiggins, Letter Carver & Writer

It looks very much like This dispute will rage on, In the meantime, I say to the poet: Write your singer a poem, And to the singer: Write your poet a song.

Korean 1: Now that Kim Jong-Il is dead, do you want to join me in overthrowing our country’s tyrannous regime? Korean 2: I would, but… Korean 1: But what? Korean 2: I’m not insane. And I’d rather just shoot myself in the face. Korean 1: I think you’re- Korean 2: Or jump on a landmine. Korean 1: Look, this- Korean 2: But not before I watched my entire family jump on a landmine. Korean 1: You’re- Korean 2: Then all of my friends, and then all of their friends. Korean 1: See, it’s- Korean 2: And everyone I’ve ever spoken to. Ever. But only if it was systematic, emotionless and dead quick. Either alphabetically or by height - I haven’t decided yet. Korean 1: All I’m saying is that if the Arab and Middle Eastern uprisings can be so successful, then why can’t a North Korean one? Korean 2: Dude, you must be on crack.

I wanted to do something different with cards this Christmas, partly because I'm a bit like that and partly because standard Christmas cards are rather quite boring.  Don't get me wrong: I love the sentiment, I even love the politics of who gets one and who hasn't done enough during the year to impress, and - perhaps above all - I love the monotony of writing card after card after card.  But I was bored with buying them.  The same designs every year! I didn't want my individuality to be restricted to a dozen or so options in Clinton Cards.  So around mid-November, I set out to design my own.  I thought about drawing them by hand, but concluded that they would be funnier and easier to duplicate if I drew them digitally.  Step forward Microsoft Paint.  Oh, how I've missed you.  Your mighty cans of infinite spray paint, your blotchy masterpiece impossibilities, the way you make us c...

Like a warm shower, Next to an open window, Amid an early Autumn frost: Run an iron through me, Warm my bones

We would count our boys into war After their six week basic training Just so we can tick the box      Just so they can play soldiers           Just so they can tell their grandkids they played soldiers And tasted mud And felt the burn Of old rope And the bone-chilling Damp pushing past Knock-kneed Blind-Thirsty From the salt sweat brass blood on warm days And knowing firsthand The science of acid Lactating screaming joints And weeping having stabbed The dummy Fixed bayonet Up through the throat For fear of the need to practice Then the call-up Heading for enemy shores Pressing sweat into their bibles Trembling away their training The world a swinging mirror But in the distance they see Blue Yellow Red Green        Blue Yellow Red Green               Blue Yellow Red Green Not a beach Of sand or pebbles But of dots laid out ...

A casual stroll around town invariably involves walking past Gloucester Guildhall .   A cinema poster is always framed on either side of a very welcoming doorway, announcing the Guildhall’s current film offering and its forthcoming release.   For the more pro-active and culturally-attuned movie-goers, these films often mirror ones you were keen to see at the multiplex, but for whatever reason didn’t get around to seeing them. If, like me, you consider handing over £8 for a ticket at a multiplex somewhat disturbing, Gloucester Guildhall’s film screenings is a most excellent remedy.   And you can rest assured in the knowledge that the Guildhall will bring you something you wanted to see the first time around, acting as a sort of big screen last chance saloon. What’s more, unlike Cheltenham ’s film club, which lies on the outskirts of the town, Gloucester Guildhall’s film club is unquestionable in its convenience: just a stone’s throw from the centre.   And from this e...