Browsing Tag


Short story


Author & Illustration: Mark Smith

Three friends sat down to a pint in the Old White Horse. Each year since their graduation they had met, a longstanding tradition by which to compare their respective achievements. Today, they sat at a small round table, each with a pint of golden ale, and each with a dog patiently sitting under the table, waiting for errant crisps to fall.

‘Guys, every morning I take Gus out on the beach’ boasted Seb, looking down at the red-haired spaniel who panted in a little patch of sunshine. ‘He loves it there, the air is so….clean! Honestly, you should move to St.Ives. It really is the best!’ he continued triumphantly.

‘Well you can’t beat the history and architecture of Cambridge’ chipped in Troy, a college professor, who had an irritating habit of pointing with one arm of his glasses when making a point. ‘Not to mention the pubs – we wouldn’t move for the world, would we Bruce?’ He reached down to stroke the collie’s silky ears.

‘This beer’s nice’ said Dan. Dan lived in Luton.

 Under the table the three dogs were listening to their owners.

‘Pfft, I love the beach do I?!’ Said Gus, incredulously. ‘Do you know how annoying it is getting sand up your nose and nappies stuck to your ears? I have to have a bath every day because my coat gets ruined!!’

The other two dogs solemnly nodded.

‘And do you know how many fucking bikes there are in Cambridge?!’ exclaimed Bruce, an ill-tempered border collie ‘one of the fuckers almost took me out just yesterday, and I swear to God if I get evils from another Big issue dog I’m going to hire a punting boat and punt my way out of that hell hole’

The two dogs looked at Jan expectantly. She was Dan’s dog, a Golden Retriever.

‘Well, my friends, let me tell you of a place I call heaven. A paradise where MEAT literally lines the streets.’ The other two dogs leaned in a little closer ‘That’s right. It’s called doner meat, and every Saturday and Sunday morning on my walkies I have the most incredible feast. Cheesy chips, chicken burgers, vomit – it’s incredible!!’

Seb loaded Gus into the back of his Audi A3.

Troy loaded Bruce, rather reluctantly, into his Land Rover

They both watched on as Jan tugged on her lead, desperate for Dan to take her back to paradise.

Comedy, Think Piece

Dogs suffer from deja vu but don’t know how to tell anyone

Author & Illustration: Mark Smith

Déjà vu literally translates as “excessively remembering” and has been a prominent force in Western culture since the 1970’s, muscling out fondue with gay abandon. Déjà vu travels in clouds but you will never see it because as soon as you turn around it hides. Before the 1970’s people just remembered things without remembering remembers so they were generally happier, hence the expression “always remember but not excessively”. Déjà vu sounds funny, much like “milk” if you say it over and over, but has little of milk’s nourishment and is almost entirely different. So I’d like you to stop repeating milk in your head as it’s not getting us anywhere. Here is a little side challenge; say milk but make L the loudest letter and the K almost inaudible. You don’t half sound daft PMSL.

But is memory smog exclusive to humans? No. No it is not. Dogs ape what we do, they even learned doggy style sex moves, and some have been seen to wear human clothes, so it really isn’t too surprising they also get déjà vu. But how on Earth do they tell us?! When humans get déjà vu the first thing we do is freeze and tell everyone in the room we’re having déjà vu and then do that thing when we say OH MY GOD I’M STILL HAVING DÉJÀ VU EVEN THOUGH I’M AWARE I’M HAVING DÉJÀ VU?! I don’t know why we do this as nobody else in the room cares. Imagine coming home and saying to your wife “Oh fucking hell, I forgot to tell you, Steve at work had déjà vu today?!” then your wife is like “SHUT UP?!” and you’re like “I SWEAR TO GOD, RIGHT IN THE OFFICE” and she passes out from shock.


Dogs tell us they are suffering from déjà vu by pooing in unusual places. Pooing in a field? No déjà vu. Pooing in your kitchen? Massive déjà vu attack. Pooing in your garden? No déjà vu. Pooing through the straw in your milkshake? Ginormous déjà vu. So next time you’re cleaning the poo off the bristles at the bottom of your front door maybe spare a thought for what your dog is trying to tell you before you vomit.