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
Thomas Marks
On Not Being Jewish
At school I was bullied for being Jewish. Sure, I didn’t have to put up with the animal noises that my father had to stomach at a minor boarding school in Hertfordshire in the 1960s. But ‘Jew’ o… Read article
William Dunbar
Partying with the Bayaka
The pygmy village of Yandoumbe stretches for about a kilometre along a road of red earth outside the small town of Bayanga. Banana and mango trees shade the wooden huts with their palm frond roofs, an… Read article
Laura Kilbride
Boy With a Coney
for Ian Patterson Hearing of molten rock which fell to mountains, meeting with three-faced statues on the beaches, returning suddenly to the fact of marble on sand dunes where the wind whips round my… Read article
James Purdon
An Awkward Silence
It started on the morning of Armistice Day. Amid the distributed hubbub of Twitter, a few people began to voice surprise at a series of messages posted from the official account of the Public Order Br… Read article
Dan Stevens
Seabirth
Turning left on Driftwood, he saw the sea and then he saw the trail. It wasn't quite a bloody trail of violence, the kind you see after a bar brawl when a battered nose spots a shameful line to the vi… Read article
From the Current Issue
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
Molly Taylor
Reluctance
I am happy staying put; not joining in. But your sun-stroked face keeps peeping around the corner of the day room: eyes locked, that fierce smile, your whole heaving body beckoning me to better w… 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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