About The Junket

The Junket is an online quarterly featuring essays, short fiction and poetry. Founded in 2011, it exists as an excuse for writing: to justify the graft of its making, and indulge the mischief it continues to make.

From the Archive

Katrina Zaat

Domesticated

I was engaged to be married once, and then I wasn’t. An ordinary calamity, but pretty personally memorable. I’d expected to feel bereft, and I did, but the grubby embarrassment was a surprise. It … Read article

Badaude and Kelley Swain

Sestina: Frimaire

There’s a cloven-hooved print dried into the mud, and it’s not Pan. They’ve gone topsy-turvy, wrecked the garden. What if they insisted on staying? Would it be any better than fly-by-night … Read article

Dan Stevens

Bloodlust on Safari

Funny the things one learns. I had always assumed that life in South Africa meant monkeys in the driveway and hippos in the pool, in the way that we, back in England, get squirrels on the fence and th… Read article

Peter Scott

Gone Fishing

Perhaps I should not have been a fisherman, he thought. But that was the thing that I was born for. (The Old Man and the Sea, Ernest Hemingway) I do not fish. I have fished, I have been fishing, bu… Read article

Emma Bielecki

Criminal Bodies

‘Did you just get engaged to break into an office?’ a scandalised Watson asks Sherlock in the latest episode of the BBC’s current adaptation of Conan Doyle’s stories. ‘His Last Vow’ ingeni… Read article

From the Current Issue

Katharine Markwick

The Road Ahead

Katrin! You so slow! Look – everyone behind you is piss off! I look in the mirror. A queue of traffic is building up behind me as I head south on the A202. I’m being cautious. No Katrin, … Read article

Tom Offland

EXCUSE ME GHOST

The Famennian Age Extinction Last night I saw the Famennian Age Extinction in an off-licence in Camberwell Green. It was dressed in hospital sandals and soiled hospital slacks. Holding a leather hosp… Read article

James Draney

On the 343

In 2012, the number 343 bus caught fire outside my bedroom window in southeast London. Caught fire might be misleading. Rather, it exploded, rattling my windows, waking me up, and drawing most of the … Read article

Full Issue Here

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