Dear America…

I did think about putting quite a lot of well thought out, carefully considered, politically measured, balanced and rational argument into this post. I crafted, edited and reworked it, so as to make it accesible to all levels of the socio-economic spectrum. But then I realised, if your Presidential campaign is indicative of the sane, decision making, level of civic minded citizens, then my work was to be wasted. All I really needed to write was this; Dear America, you’re fucked… Imagine Donald with his finger on the button… Go on… Push it…

Ian Andrew

Ian Andrew is the author of the alternative history novel A Time To Every Purpose and the detective thriller Face Value. Both are available on Amazon. Follow him on social media:

Two Flashes of Fiction

There’s a group on the Internet called the Mash Club. They promote flash fiction competitions based on the inclusion of three keywords. I wrote a few submissions, that I always meant to post on here… so better late than never.

The keywords were Carpenter, Taxes and Vinegar. I posted one up about the Titanic a while ago… Read it Here… but these were the other two I put in. Got shortlisted, which I thought was fair enough 🙂

The Rising

It all got out of hand. Now, with blood seeping into my eyes and my Mother’s suppressed sobs filling my ears, I have to think it was all my fault.

I could have stayed home. Worked with my father. There’s no shame in being a carpenter.

Flash Friday – Three

To celebrate Northern Ireland winning through to the Euros, a piece of flash fiction, written in our peculiar dialect…

Flash fiction is defined as a story of extreme brevity. It’s often given as a

All this “Gay” stuff… I’m over it.

How one man’s recollections of World War II, changed my views forever…

From national, hi-profile, Australian parliamentarians to my local MP, (even if she has misjudged the feelings of many of her constituents) everyone of any political hue in

The Last Bus Stop

I never realised how sublime watching one’s own life trickle into the gutter would be.

I hadn’t even meant to get involved. I’d just been standing there, watching the drunks fall out of the pub. She had walked straight into a sweet left hand meant for him. The lads had continued unaware and I went from the bus stop to kneel next to her. She was out cold so I began to put her into the recovery position.

“What the fuck are you doing mate?”