"Spaghetti Fiction" by Phil Doran (garlic press, 2007)

Flash. Lots of fun. Here are some snippets

• Apparently, cryogenetically modified Posh Spice, best served with orphan's liver and African eye soup, was said to be delicious (Uncle Walter)
• Usually I wouldn't dream of smoking illegal narcotics with a student whilst driving. But since this is only a story, and I'm Head of Creative Writing, we can allow for a bit of author intrusion (The Creative Class)
• The sonic booms of Israeli warplanes are deafening. The next station is Letchworth. Fear comes with the night. My piano teacher's not even giving me half my lesson (Violins over Ramallah)
• The post-modern irony was so thick it hung in the air. You could have cut it with a high-powered laser from the gun-belt of a Biker Martian Mouse (Remote control)
• I always get Karlov, my faithful cloned retainer, to lassoo me a couple of hundred [Ukrainian sex slaves]. He has just enough cowboy DNA in him (more than most wannabe US Presidents) to do the job with panache and elan (A Life in the Day of Ivan Yanukovich)
• The selection of London street names designed to foster a sense of place had lain dormant for so long that they had acquired their own geographic status (Untangling Wires)
• Sergeant, pull over into The Eagle. I need a pint of beer, not to mention a decent bloody writer with a plot and a purpose in mind other than this bloody awful post-modernist drivel with deliberate withholding of meaning instead of properly thought out structure (Terse & Zappa)
• The passers-by lapped it up. One thing missing. The Surrealist had forgotten to put down a collecting hat or anything of that sort. Bugger he thought, he'd have to apply for an Arts Council grant again or go back to psychological naturalism (Charing X Road)
• By the 80s with the spread of fanzines, the conspiracy theorists began to gain credence among certain sections. And then, of course, Munich '58 denial became a big issues when Lord Alex Ferguson was returned as MP for Trafford Park South in a October 2009 by-election on an anti-denial ticket (Kirchrrudering)
• it brought Eurodollars to help pay for college. He's majored in Subaquaology at the Underwater University of What-Useta-Be-Ohio. He so couldn't afford to enroll at a surface college. Way beyond his sea level (Santa's Little Helper)
• Last time he'd had to convert two Sunni muslims, a Sikh and a revolutionary Marxist from Govan. The first three had been a cinch. He'd only had to show them his holey palms and they were won over instantly. The absence of rust from the oxidization of the nails that surely must've taken place meant that the dialectical materialist remained unconverted. He'd insisted on J.C. walking the full length of the duck pond in Clissold Park, at which point he set fire to his Socialist Worker (Wild rice and sandals)
• - Ahem. I'm sorry to say we lost Mr. Bond in the first scene.
  - Did he get to say anything? - Something about Edinburgh milkmen getting more of their fair share of skirt. More than us fancy Oxbridge types with our floppy fringes or some such rot ... I'm sorry. Are you family?
  - No, just the same socio-economic group.
  - That not good enough I'm afraid. I'm going to have to ask you to remain outside the main body of the narrative (Steven Berkoff's dying)

I least like the longest pieces. "The Legions of Burnt Toast" and "Passive Addictive" (about being addicted to passive smoking) are fun ideas.