Recommended by David Patton

Vivian Lermond is either very well travelled and observant or has the kind of imagination I can only imagine! I swear I heard that bug, smelled the Salsa and choked on the Margarita!
Her characters, their dialogue and interplay are so believable that you wish you were there...or not depending on your taste in food and swank! For me, this wee piece left me wanting a second helping...

Philip writes touchingly and with such empathy about the changing relationship between a man and his elderly father who's memory is slowly slipping away. His brief interchange is written without being maudlin and yet he describes with amazing insight, the elderly man's frustration and the son's loving acceptance that this situation is not stable, it is fluid, and with time, as Philip puts it in the Dad's words....."The fog will roll in and the moments of clarity will be gone and someday they may never come back and I’ll be…" I strongly recommend the short video!

Oh how I wish I could pack so much into so little! At little over one page in length, we have a tale of abuse, A death, A trial. and sweet revenge meeted out! To paraphrase Sir Winston Churchill... it's rare that so much is packed into so few words, to delight so many!

Yet again Vivian Lermond treats us to a character driven sweet tale. Her dialogue is not only funny, but she also manages to capture the relationship between these two elderly superheroes perfectly. We see the relationship strengthen once again as they face the very real danger of a Halloween monster...

Ok, I admit it, I know nothing of acting, I've never had the urge to tread the boards, but oh how I feel for Alice. The unintended and casual cruelty of theater life is summed up in one simple yet oh so devastating sentence....‘You are no beauty Alice, Nurse suits you.' I was almost waiting for her to be told that she had a face perfect for radio! This wee monologue perfectly conveys to us non-thespians what we always suspected as we are fed fodder by pretty but talentless actresses.

Ah, the smell of the crowd, the roar of the grease paint! I'm not sure just how much of this tale of a would be thespian is Paul's recollection or his imagination, but I felt for his luckless character. As a Glaswegian, I can well imagine him on stage next to some talentless but considerably louder fellow player. But fear not good readers, what has been lost to the Globe is now our pleasure as he has swapped make up for pen and ink. Paul Smith, I felt for you...

I can almost smell wet diapers, baby sick and three day old yoghurt! This modern day domestic heroine is at breaking point, yes, you could say that her rush to breed a brood means that her downward spiraling life was self inflicted. Her dreams of the perfect suburban life lie buried under empty McNugget tubs and empty diet coke bottles. But just as she's teetering on the edge of a Rum and coke meltdown, salvation is at hand, or I should say, two hands, which will massage her woes and troubles under a palm tree....sweet modern fairy tale

Wow! I had no idea where this was going, and frankly, it didn't matter. The interplay between Mother and Son is so well played out, that I was entirely caught up in the drama. Andrew has cleverly reversed the roles we would normally expect in such a drama and, whether intentional or not, this literary slight of hand blinded me to the ending...masterstroke!

He's just went and done it again! I'm gonna have to stop reading this guy's nonsense. Second cup of coffee I've splurted over my poor dog this afternoon, and he doesn't even like coffee! Please, please read this guy's nonsensical doggerel. If, like me, you tend to cock a snoot at convention and loathe the staid stuffy norm of short plays, read his stuff! it's utter nonsense! It makes no sense! There's little or no story! But oh how I'd love to see a TV special of his hysterical characters... go on, you know you will...

I was brought up on Spike Milligan and The Goons, which, for all of you who are unlucky enough not to have had a Scottish upbringing, were the genesis for Monty Python and every imitator who followed. So you will see that I'm well qualified in the art of the ridiculous, and Jarred could have been a script writer for that brand of manic, irreverent, blasphemous, ridiculous, belly busting, laugh a minute humour. Did I mention that I loved this?