That time of year thou mayst in me behold

Lunar 4

Like drugs in sport don’t work, plagiarism just makes it worse, we get found out, they come round, take a sample, test it, declare us cheats, abandon us to a life of solitude standing, what will survive of us is love.

April is the month when the inspector calls, the cruellest month IMHO, when once a year we writers of all nationalities, ages, colours and cultures come together in a glorious Olympiad of word theft with our squat pens digging while gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Because I do not hope to turn again to plagiarism my one-off appearance this year sees me going for gold in the prose poetry category fully funded by my government and supported by a loving family who if I should die after competing will not I hope think only this of me as I take to the lectern and with exaggerated overhead clapping and rouse the madding crowd to look on my works and despair.