Two contented young old men with post-punk fire in the belly, Magic Phil produces words,The Guns of Briston makes music. Magic Phil has been doing stand-up spoken word and Andy Briston has been making damn fine music for more than 20 years a piece. Together they cook up as The Spaghetti Faction.

 Live literature for the factory floor! Spoken word and sounds for the Rave generation! Put down those poetry books and pick up those dancing shoes! 

More words at http://www.thespaghettifaction.blogspot.com/

There's an unexpected item in my bagging area. I don't know how it got there. I didn't put it there. It's not even my bagging area. I didn't put the machine here. I wanted a human being, not a machine. Except I didn't really. 

I've seen the faces of the check-out girls and boys, and the older checker-outters, back in through the out door after a long career in public administration or accounting, forced to degrade themselves as bar code scanners, shelf-stackers and exchangers of pleasantries to glassy-eyed shoppers, tanked up on cheap lager and loose change. The machines came and the checker-outters receded. And then the unexpected item in my bagging area came. 

I don't know what the unexpected item in my bagging area is. It won't tell me. I have to press another button. The light on the end of the thin belisha beacon starts to flash. A warning to the world. A signal to those behind me, in the front of the queue. A reminder of just how incompetent I am at shopping.Why doesn't he just remove the unexpected item and get on with it so we can go back to out BLTs and Diet Cokes and Pringles.

I don't know how to act. I am paralysed. I know that if I do anything, I will do stuff, stuff like screaming and shouting and slamming: a mad-eyed Luddite smashing consumption-driven cultural icons of technology with my puny fists like a rock 'em sock 'em boxing robot with Parkinson's. So I don't. Instead I wait. I wait for the woman who used to be a checker-outter, who is now a self-service check-out supervisor, an upgrade in prestige and responsibility, but without the concomitant renumeration. I wait. I wait until she checks the ID of the 25-year-old Geology postgrad, who does actually look 17, and okays her bottle of sangria with an alcoholic content level lower than most shandies. 

Unexpected item in the bagging area. Unexpected item in the bagging area. I push another button. Yes, I do have my own bag. No, I don't have a loyalty card. Yes, I would like to pay in cash. Yes, I am prone to sudden outbursts of rage against the machine. No, I don't think Every Little Helps. Yes, I am waiting for assistance. Unexpected item in the bagging area. Unexpected item in the bagging area. 

I stop. I expel air loudly. I look behind me and shrug: the international body language for It's beyond my control, What can I do?, so even the language student from Tripoli gets it. I give a tight smile of embarrassment and turn around. Unexpected item in the bagging area. Unexpected item in the bagging area. I press another button. It asks, Does anyone expect full employment in an era of neo-liberalism? I press. Of course not. You shall just have to wait until the economy grows. This is only natural and right, isn't it? I press no. This is not a viable option. Please press any other button. There are two options: Yes and Oh! Yes. I wait for further assistance. Unexpected item in the bagging area. Unexpected item in the bagging area. 

I wait. But in the queue behind they cannot wait any longer. Two pin-striped suits from the back of the line rush me and start lashing me with rolled up copies of The Economist. I defend myself with my thin 12-page Morning Star. But to no avail. I am beaten back and restrained. They force my palm down on to the Oh! Yes button and I relent. I concede. I press Oh! Yes. Oh! Yes. Oh! Yes.

Unexpected anarchist in the bagging area. Unexpected anarchist in the bagging area. Unexpected anarchist in the bagging area.

Listen to

SPAGHETTI FICTION REVIEWED: 

"...energetic, fast-paced, wild, and thoroughly entertaining. ... quite wonderful..." 

Rachel Kendall (Sein Und Werden/Kiss The Witch) 


CRITIQUES OF THE BLOG: 

Brent Hagen (writer. poet) 

delightfully wacky without the usual avant-garde pretense" 


"...prolific and well-reviewed ...blog... entertaining and poetic short stories that stretch the boundaries of fiction." 

Guide to Art Schools Best Short Fiction Blogs 

"...a bumper fun pack... covering a range of subjects from cannibalism to suicide bombers to Catholicism to the media generation to immigration to sexed-up fairytales. No subject is off-limits and no genre ... left untouched. These stories are a pleasure to read. ...And there are others that have you reeling with jealousy at Doran's fine wit and half-veiled facetiousness ..a refined quirkiness, a deadly serious tongue-in-cheekiness." 


"rapid bursts of political and grammatical gunfire..." 

Rachel Kendall, Sein Und Werden 


on Spaghetti Fiction (2007) 
& Spaghetti Fiction Too (2008) 


available from: magicphil@btinternet.com 

Views on individual stories: 

Brian Fugget, Zygote In My Coffee 

"The Creative Class totally knocked my socks off!" 


"You really hit the bull's eye!" (Social Contract Killing) 

"Oh man!... Friends Of Dorothy. What a piece!" 

Cindy Rosmus, Yellow Mama 


"...WEIRD stuff! But I like it, I like it.... Something for the Cat was one of the most bizarre stories I've ever considered ." 


"...[Rats with Wings is] the perfect short short..." 

"I loved Friends Of Dorothy!" 

Sean Merriweather, Velvet Mafia 

"a wry sense of humor... fun... playful..." 

(Friends of Dorothy, Odour Man, 259 Famous Belgians.) 


Karl Koweski, Zygote In My Coffee 

"Baghdad Taxi really worked for me." 


Ellis Sharp, writer: Dead Iraqis 
on Blood Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend 


"What a gem, very pointed, good to hear you are hearing the voices... Modern writing is far too sanitary."