GORDON PARSONS appreciates fine performances and a feel for ambiguity, but misses the music of the dialogue
Toby stood outside the terraced house with the red door, cradling the stone against his chest.
Jack and Ollie had egged him on all the way from school, clapping him on the back and whooping.
“Go on,” Jack said.
Toby hefted the stone from one hand to the other, trying not to look as though he was stalling. It was not so much a stone as a lump of brick and mortar he’d found on the demolition site of the old library, but it would do. He closed his eyes to imagine it hurtling through the air and cracking the window.
The bard invites readers to a gig, raps for Clacton, and lays out the Burnham-Hurzeler conundrum
Ron's rages are sincere and — according to his wife — healthily cathartic. But can these splenetic outbursts loosen the grip of capitalism at its most monstrous?
Gisele Pelicot said ‘shame must change sides.’ We may think we agree, but, argues LOUISE RAW, society still has some way to go
MATT KERR charts his bike-riding odyssey in aid of the Royal Marsden charity and CWU Humanitarian Aid


