The Pram In The Hall

 Type of Writing: Kit goes to the eye clinic so the piece is written in the form of a Snellen Eye Test.

Type of Writing: This week we had a power cut. Written in the style of a WhatsApp neighbourhood group. Kim:  Anyone else lost power? Ryan:                                         Yes, just went when I was changing Kit's nappy. Annie: So is Kit's butt to blame? Ravi:  LOL! Ryan:                                        Ha! No, he's tiny. His butt isn't big enough to cause a solar eclipse. Kim: I had my tea in the oven. Shepherd's pie isn't going to taste too great. Annie:  I was just about to watch Pointless . Ravi:    i'd only just got in from work. put my coat up and then the lights went out. Annie:  So maybe it's your coat, Ravi. Like Samson, without it we have no power.         Ravi:  who is samson? Annie:  Greek myth. R...

 Type of writing: Parody of Gollum's love of the ring in The Hobbit. Deep down in Dunstable, near the Polish church and Mon-Fri police station, lived a small creature. Spawned from sperm and ovum, he was a Baby. In his isolated cell, he roamed back and forth, experiencing little natural sunlight in Lockdown Britain. He had been dissatisfied for months now. The smile he wore fraudulent, not worth the paper it were written on. The laughter? Fake too. It sounded a million dollars but a professional critic would soon determine it ‘imitation.’ Why was he a private ball of rage? The lanyard. The lanyard had been taken from it. Once upon a time he had access to the lanyard dawn and dusk. His father would put it on over his neck in the morning. Its oscillations- a hypnotist’s watch- entrancing, ensnaring him. He was under its bewitching spell. ‘I wantsss it,’ he thought. ‘I wantssss it,’ he grabbed. Yes, the father went to work, but the morning consumption was enough to sate him until ...

Type of writing: Based on The Golden Raspberry Awards, a parody held every year, a day before The Oscars. From Los Angeles, California, in association with Porta Potty Rentals, this is the annual Razzie Awards. Host: Good evening, Hollywood. It’s wonderful to be here tonight. For you all to come out and celebrate failure is very unamerican of you. It’s a good job Donald still isn’t President otherwise he would have dug up McCarthy to interrogate you. ( Laughs ). Yes, the Razzies are not here to celebrate the great and the good, to massage the egos and give a happy ending to the success stories of America. Nor are we here to look at the turds at the bottom of the toilet bowl. A bad movie, book or costume is ten a penny. What we’re interested in is what happens when that turd is flushed and it flows into the sewage system: we’re here to hold our noses to the smelliest of smells, an assembly of shit, a poo counsel chaired by General Pong. We’re here to canonize and historicize the thin...