Wednesday, 10 December 2014


by W. M. Lewis

With pet paparazzi in tow he joins the long queue at the Godalming Club, they’re both high on something white and newly minted, him hidden by a thin disguise of shaven head and wee moustache, the photographer draped in her usual camera sleaze — an experiment this, really — feet shuffling, waiting in an everyday way, him craving what he doesn’t usually endure — time and people passing — and when they reach the front the ‘entry consultant’ says nothing but shakes a massive and sublime black head in precise samurai movements and raises an explicit meaty hand which utters No Entry, surprising everyone.

Author bio: I'm an Australian poet and writer. My poetry has appeared in Alliterati Magazine, Best Australian Poems 2011, Cordite Poetry Review, Eclecticism, Multiverses, PoV Magazine, Railroad Poetry Project, street cake magazine, The Night Light and Tincture Journal. You can find me and my writing on Twitter at @mindintoword and at my blog, whatevertheysing.

Celebrity is partof101 Fiction issue 6.

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