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The Scum Gentry Alternative Arts and Media - Latest Content
Luna, The Rise of a Bipolar Superhero -- parts 1 - 3 - Fiction Serial by Louise M. Hart

Part 1


Shelagh and Arthur scrambled over the cemetery gates. The moon cast menacing shadows on the ground below and beckoned them to cross the hallowed turf. They often visited the graves during daylight, but this was their first evening visit. Shelagh’s sturdy legs helped break her fall. Following her, Arthur crashed to the ground, like a bird stunned mid-flight, and began to whimper. “Don’t be such a babby,” Said Shelagh, irritation seeping into her colloquial speech.

At 16 years old Arthur was...


The Humiliation of the Underclass by John Latham

In the 1980s, the American sociologist Charles Murray argued that a distinct class was forming at the bottom of British society. From a New Right perspective, he claimed that welfare dependency had set in amongst the “underclass” and this was encouraging poor behaviour. However, the intellectual tendency to look down on unfortunate people has a long history. Even the revolutionary Karl Marx described the lumpenproletariat in unflattering terms. Nowadays, we have the less cerebral Jeremy Kyle to put us in our place. This glib mockery may entertain some viewers, but is it time to defend the way many of us appear to get by?

The urban studies expert Richard Florida paid tribute to the role of the affluent creative class in post-industrial societies. He reasoned that tolerant values were useful in cities where tech flourished...


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Erotic Blackout: Flower - Erasure Art Blackout Poetry  - by Vanessa de Largie

Erotic Blackout: Flower - Erasure Art Blackout Poetry  - by Vanessa de Largie

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Accidentally Killybegs - Short Story by Brand King

I’d missed my bus to Ardara and wound up in a place called Killybegs instead. I’d have to make do.

I walked up the main street of the little fishing town and saw a sign for budget accommodation. Inside there was no reception, just a flight of stairs that led to a landing and a few beige painted doors. I looked at the sign out front again. There was a phone number. From a phone booth nearby I dialled it and a woman with a heavy accent answered. I told her I was after a room for the night. She said that’d be fine, and nineteen euros, and I said that’d be fine and she said I’ll see you there in a minute. I hung up the phone, walked back to the door of the place and she was there. I gave her money and she gave me a key.

This travelling malarky was easy...


SELL, SELL, SELL! by Zack Breslin

There has been increased turmoil and panic in financial markets over the last week. By Tuesday, $4 trillion had been wiped off global stock markets. In America, where the rout began, the Dow Jones experienced its biggest ever points decline on Monday although by Tuesday some of the losses were recovered. Similar shocks were recorded in Asian and European stock markets. In Britain, the FTSE hit a one year low on Monday before falling further on Tuesday (its largest percentage fall since the Brexit vote). Once again, stability in financial markets is being questioned.

The fall in stocks comes after a year of steep rises, buoyed in part by the election of Donald Trump and the implementation of his pro-business policies of deregulation and massive tax cuts for corporations and the wealthy...


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   “Someone’s Birthday” – Spudgun
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A Dismemberment of Corpses - Short Story by Richard Barr

For all that is secret will eventually be brought into the open, and everything that is concealed will be brought to light and made known to all.

Luke 8:17

There’d been an incident in work and now an investigation were underway. From the investigation would come a decision, and this decision determined whether or not I’d return to my job in the radiator factory.

‘Will I still get paid?’ I asked my line manager, Gemini.

‘Not until you come back. If you come back,’ he replied. Under his annoying nasally voice I could hear the distant rotations...


Capitalism Without Wages? by John Latham

Volunteers throughout the ages have realised that working for nothing is not such a bad idea. It seems perverse, but the “cash nexus” can make labour more tedious than almost anything else. Eccentric Scottish philosopher Thomas Carlyle noted that the relationship between employer and employee can be difficult. Without a strong union behind them, anybody can be subject to insidious forms of exploitation or discrimination.

If work is done for money rather than love the result can be a profound sense of alienation. The young Karl Marx observed that the power of money means that an ordinary paid labourer has almost no input into the shape of the work process. In less theoretical terms, we may work to live, but only live and breathe at the weekend. We can feel like the mere tools of a boss, aware...


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Among Savages - poem by Kevin Higgins

I’m secretly posh and I’m protestant
and no one believes the accent I got
off a man in Stoneybatter is real.

My dad earned the Krugerrands,
with which I paid for this house,
flogging rockets to
good-old-days South Africa.
My given name, Giles Amery the Eighth,
sounds great when you say it in Gaelic.

Each night I arrive at some party
to which I wasn’t invited,
carrying half a banjo
and sing songs made up of
things Brendan Behan
never actually said.

A small unsalted tear tumbles into
my half pint of alcohol-free Guinness,
every time I think of the boys from the estate
beyond the two big fields
behind the high, high wall we built
to keep them out;

how afraid I still am
they’ll one day
hold me down and make me talk
posh and protestant,
because even when it’s accompanied
with the bit of a beard I borrowed
from Ronnie Drew,

they know the accent I got
off that man in Stoneybatter
isn’t mine to speak.

Kevin Higgins’s Song of Songs 2:0 - New and Selected Poems will be published by Salmon Poetry in April. His poems have been quoted in The Daily Telegraph, The Times (UK), The Independent, and The Daily Mirror. The Stinging Fly magazine recently described Kevin as “likely the most read living poet in Ireland.”

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The Hat - poem by Daniel Galvin

She keeps coming back to me, this yoke—
Erin O’Brien put her in the Corrib
with a half-bottle of cider in ’99.

She said she didn’t drink cider
not to mind share it
and she wouldn’t take her jumper off either.

Maybe a fortnight after that
Jack Dalton was leaving The Goalpost
when he whipped her out of his pocket—
it’d came in through his letter box, would you believe.

I swapped her for a bottle of Teacher’s in Athlone
the time of the World Cup in ’02.
Some truck driver, late for work
said she’d go lovely with his dying brother’s jacket.

Went back to Ellen Coleman’s
for the ride Easter Sunday—
you know Ellen’s place
up Bridge Road where Cobra Kev use’t live
God rest his soul—

back to Ellen’s for the scrape
and she was up on the rack in the hall
cleaner than I’d ever seen her.
Ellen got her for Christmas
said she’d rather not say from who—
she was taking off her jumper at that stage, anyway.

I lost it again after that.
Took a bad hiding off the Kylie brothers
Kinsale, the Friday of the Sevens last year.
Kieran took the hat, the cunt
and Seanie took my shoes.
I reckoned that would be the end of it.

Well, I went out to a play last night with Aisling Walsh
(Aisling’d be mad for the plays)
and some mincer had it on him up on stage,
tipped to the side like a ponce.

Had to stop the whole show.
Lost Aisling but I got my cap
you can be sure of that, boyeen.

But I started thinking then.
I was thinking the whole way home.
And d’ya know what I did when I got back?
D’ya know what I did when I got back last night?
I went out to Salthill
caught ahold a stone
a big blue fucker, only in off the tide
put it into the cap
tied her up with a bit of twine
and fucked her straight into the sea.

We’ll see how fast she gets back to me this time.
We’ll see how long it takes her now.

Daniel Galvin is a 22 year old writer from Co. Cork who lives in Galway. He has had his writing published in Hidden Channel Zine and is currently working towards his first poetry collection. He studies Writing at NUI Galway where his focus is on poetry.

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