I have been thinking for a while of compiling my favourite opening lines from Underneath the Bunker reviews, with a view to choosing ‘the best’. However, rather than hand out a crown to any one competitor based on current and curious whims, I have since decided to present a wide selection of worthy winners, which you, dear reader, may rank accordingly (or not, as the case may be). Here they are:
As has been recently revealed by a diarrhoeic spew of critical studies, the utilization of lavatorial substance and imagery in modern culture has a rich, if not pungent, history. [continue reading]
I was once privileged enough to meet one of Europe’s greatest novelists – Kirios Quebec – in the men’s room of an expensive Parisian hotel. [continue reading]
Upon first looking into Egor Falastrom’s “Dark Dreams of a Delirious Dog-Catcher”, I felt as though the sweet hands of love were slapping me tenderly in the face. [continue reading]
Starting two months ago – and ending last week, due to significant lack of interest – Thursday nights at The Crippled Bee (the finest public house in North London) were set aside for the pastime of Karaoke-Poetry. [continue reading]
Oh my sainted satin slippers. What am I doing here? [continue reading]
I hope you will agree that, for all their failings as reviewers (and they have many), my critical cohorts have never had any problems kicking off.
More of this, perhaps, one day.