Brian Bilston

Scenes from a Train Window A pylon looms like a sini- Two birds puncture the late afternoon blue as th- Cows stare into the distance and wonde- Fields sleep drowsily, waiting for- Buddleia bubbles up along the tr- A woman waves at her youn- Some buildings.

In the Departure Lounge in the departure lounge, she drew him near, then softly whispered in his ear, not words of parting’s sweet, sweet sorrow, but don’t forget the bins tomorrow

Dear doughty subscriber, Summer is over.

Busman’s Holiday I had always wanted to go on a busman’s holiday so I saved up for ten years and then five holidays came along at once.

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The Grammar Police the grammar police got him split his infinitive open removed his colon and left him lying commatose the next day he was pronouned dead full stop

Love is a Skin love is a skin that protects you, a warmth that spreads from the tips of your fingers to your heart sorry – not love – glove, i meant glove

Bags you have bags of bags collecting bags must be your bag because you have bags with nothing in them except bags, inside of which are other bags, full of bags you have enough bags for life for a hundred lifetimes – if there were a prize for the total nu…

Ten years ago, You Took the Last Bus Home was published.

Dear intrepid reader, Welcome to the opening sentence of my August newsletter, a sentence which has been variously described as “magnificent” (Times Literary Supplement), “irritatingly self-referential” (Spectator) and “mysteriously silent on the subject…