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
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
Olivia Laing
The Lonely City
There’s a painting halfway up the pristine snail shell of the Guggenheim Museum in New York of a - but already I’m beginning to fumble. There’s a painting halfway up the pristine snail shell of … Read article
Frank Lumbar
On Killing Squirrels
For the last few years, I’ve worked with an Air Arms S200 pre-charged pneumatic air rifle propped against my desk. It began as a precaution against mice, who’d taken advantage of the decreasing fa… 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
Nick Haslam
La source du Nil
‘On est déjà en retard, Monsieur Nicolas.’ I was hung over. I was tired. I was being told off by a retired colonel. This wasn't a good start to the day. ‘Je suis désolé, Monsieur A… Read article
From the Current Issue
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
Felicity Cloake
Turnspit Tykes
I know every dog owner thinks theirs is special – but my cairn terrier really is. So monstrously wilful is this outrageous beast, so magnificently unconcerned with pleasing anyone but his fat furry … Read article
Nick Hunt
Fung’s
I drove past Fung’s a few days ago. Of course, it isn’t Fung’s now. It’s an empty building surrounded by weeds, an ugly breezeblock shell. There’s plywood over the sliding doors, and a spind… Read article
Full Issue Here
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