WELCOME TO OUR FLAT SHARE

Mandy likes to sit on her rug.

But she’s naked.

She knows that. And Mike is our television man; loves the football day and night.

What if I want to watch something else?

Then you ask him nicely if you can change the channel.

What if he says no?

Then you ask him again. Anyway you may have more in common with Seamus and Gregory, they’re our atrocity poets.

I don’t understand poetry.

They’ll drum it into you. By the way did you meet Simon when you went into the kitchen?

The man eating?

Simon is always eating; just never touch his plate and definitely never touch his food.

Who was that in the attic?

Our brooding man.

What’s he brooding about?

Why don’t you ask him?

I wouldn’t like to pry.

I see. Now you’ve met everyone and everyone has met you, you need to decide whether you want to move in or not.

I’ll ring you.

They all say that but they never ring.

I will.

The last one said that too.

I suddenly feel dizzy. Can I sit down?

Why don’t you lie down? We wouldn’t want you to fall or anything.

Could I lie on the rug?

Bit fresh with Mandy sitting there; I wouldn’t even think about it. Better to lie down upstairs in your new room and Derek will pop in and tell you what he’s been brooding about.

 THE NEIGHBOURS’ WELCOME

‘You must meet Matilda my dear’ said Norman. ‘But first things first: still wine or fizz; which kind of girl are you?’

‘A champagne girl of course’.

‘Of course you are,’ cooed Norman. ‘Of course you are’.

‘Hi de hi campers,’ sung Matilda, flexing a leg on her arrival by the mantelpiece. ‘And please excuse my sweat; I’m training for a half-marathon’.

‘Don’t mind a little girl sweat do we?’ asked Norman

‘I’m running for the dwarf horse hostel by the canal,’ said Matilda, removing her shorts.

‘Matilda is the local animals’ Joan de Arc. Cats and dogs and even foxes, she’s quite a girl I can tell you,’ said Norman

‘What’s your name?’ asked Simon, the chap without pants lying on the lawn.

‘Mary, my name is Mary.’

‘Not at all contrary: it’s a very beautiful name my dear and it suits you very well,’ said Norman.

‘It certainly does,’ added Simon. ‘Like a soft leather slipper on a warm clammy day.’

Suddenly Norman’s wife, Brenda, entered sans brazier. ‘Do you respect the tit, Mary?’ she asked

‘Well, I’m not sure . . .’

‘Put it away Brenda, Mary’s a shy girl; not quite ready for the tit,’ cautioned Norman.

In the garden Matilda was naked and bouncing on top of Simon.

‘Oh yes, quite a girl our Matilda,’ said Norman with a wink.

‘I think I’d better be going,’ said Mary.

Brenda’s giant bosom blocked the doorway into the street. ‘Do you respect the tit, Mary?’ she repeated.

‘Not really,’ said Mary squeezing past Brenda’s bosom and out into the cold.

Half way home Mary remembered she’d left her pants on their sofa and realised she’d have to go back to get them.

 MAD MIKE

A shy man called Simon Please held in all his emotions during the day. At night the emotions ranted and ranged and went walkabout in the guise of a dwarf Tasmanian devil called Mad Mike. Mike hurled abuse at the moon and spat the rain back into the clouds. He turned the world blood red with his anger and frightened the midnight birds into falling from the sky and onto the ground.

In the morning Simon Please put on his suit and tie and ate all his cereal. He listened to the news on the radio, patted his pet dog on the head and left his house. He noticed a dead bird on the street and placed it in his briefcase. He wasn’t sure why he did that but it felt right. He smiled at his neighbour whose body still smoked and smouldered from the night before.

‘Nice weather we’ve been having,’ said Simon Please but his neighbour didn’t reply.

• Pictures by Jonny Voss