Saturday, 5 September 2009

The Mitchell Tapes [1]

Several months ago, talented Scottish poet and micro-fiction genius Mitchell Hampton disappeared from his flat in East London. The police are treating his disappearance as suspicious. Mitchell has, for years, been a curious, sub-cult character. His works are often immature and self-mocking, yet – for all his apparent horesplay – he is capable of some truly outstanding works of genius.

The "lost tapes" are being circulated on the web among his close-knit group of fans. I'd like to share some of these micro-fictions on my blog to give an indication of the scope of Mitchell's talent, and to show why he will be sorely missed.

This is the first micro-fiction found from Mitchell's home tapes. His technique was to dictate his work aloud, and then scalp it into fiction from his ramblings. His work often veers towards the parodic, but is enjoyable all the same.


  1. 'moon's bananas with its unguents of hate'

    Holy Moly...metaphors abound but I learned a new word, and I like it.

  2. Unguent is a fabulous word. Dear Mitchell. We'll miss the weird bastard.