Bark – Britain’s finest comedy pamphlet*. Sixteen pages of precision-stapled fun, an unhurried underdog in an age of digital fidgets.
It started with Issue 3 (to pretend it was established). Copies were carefully placed on train seats, with Bark spies monitoring the response of commuters. People laughed! If we can make commuters laugh, we can make any sod giggle.
Now, with Issue 14 about to trouble the postman, reader numbers are nearing ‘respectable’. That’s just one rung down from ‘break even’.
Have at it! Here are mucky poems, written sketches, fruity one-liners and drawings of Ray Mears with his plums all a-dangle. The Bark world is more bat-box than botox; bollocks? Certainly.
It’s a read for the waiting room, the tent, the toilet, the train. It’s a read for dippers, sliders, for mild-mannered anarchists who long to punch the boss in the beak.
TV and Radio types are circling, and who can blame them? Damn carcass sure is meaty.
Here’s the website.
*Shut your mouth
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