“”Underdogs Music’s love affair with The Fanclub began back in May, when top Underdog Faye Hunter came to be on the panel of JD Unsigned. The Fanclub made it all the way to the finals, by which point Faye was utterly hooked on the band’s sound, and determined to be involved in seeing the Bournemouth 3 piece’s potential unveiled…”

“I’ve been studying Creative Music and Technology at Brunel University (NW London) for three years, and am continuing with a Masters in Contemporary Music next year. Dubstep is a sound that I’ve been exploring alongside more experimental course related work for the last year or so. The slow tempo and brooding atmosphere lends it a weightiness that is hard to find in other genres of Electronic Dance Music…”

Slumped on sofas we watch the bustling room in terror,
Keeping forced mouths upturned, coming here was an error,
Pissed up preppy girls on the arms of ‘flash your cash’ gangsters and leering men,
Think its time to go to the bar and get another drink, or ten.
We manoeuvre through crowds of clicking heels, flicking hair,
Take our position at the bar, packed in tight but no-one’s aware.
Glasses ring, pushed together as the punters are told,
An extortionate price tag, the vodka should be laced with gold.
Makeup and hair filled restroom,
Choking, on a dense mist …

Stepping from the dark warmth immediately hit by the cold,
The taxi drivers claiming low fares, with wide eyed stares,
He walked, I skipped and talked with a sense of purpose,
A smile on my face, a ribbon in my hair,
The walk may have lasted forever, I couldn’t have cared, until the bus drove past,
But we carried on happy from the thrill of the night.
Early morning London still feels like the night,
With tiredness at bay and only the cold –
Shoulder looks tell us it all must have passed,
As the businessmen march across the …

“I study at Brunel University and my poetry is mainly focused around London as i enjoy going out there. My work surrounds weird but wonderful nights out with friends, discovering the city.”

“Ahh, I’m gasping for a fag, that bloody woman is always moaning, the silly cow always looks a state anyway, no wonder why her husband left her for a younger woman eh Olivia?”
I was in my own world; a world that only I had access to, a world where everything was perfect, where a fresh array of lilac and pink flowers bloomed around me constantly, where there was nothing but stretches of green land and blue skies, where materialism was alien and most of all, where everybody that …

I open my eyes but can’t see very much. It’s dark in here, no lighting, not very much space, and worst of all I have to share it. I don’t do much with my life at the moment except lounge about all day, eating, drinking and just generally living, waiting for that special moment when I can finally reveal myself to the world. I have been in here for quite a long time, ever growing and forever expanding in this small, tiny space that I call my warmth, my lifeline, …

Pushing my way through the crowd of hurrying commuters I mumble to myself that I really should invest in a car. It’s a normal enough day in the rush-hour of the morning with the smell of Star Bucks coffee drinking businessmen bustling past me with their briefcases completely unaware that they have done so, no change there then. I grit my teeth and squeeze my way through the sea of people, desperate to catch my train. If only I had known what lay ahead for me, maybe then I would …

“I am currently at Brunel University studying English with Creative Writing. I enjoy writing short fiction and most of my work is drawn from real life experiences. I don’t really have a specific field as I like to write about anything and everything and I hope you enjoy reading my stories as much as I enjoy writing them.”

She lived two floors above
and every time I’d walk towards my dorm,
I would look up and see the rose I gave her
resting its head against her window.
For a long time I saw more of that rose
than I did of her
and I found myself glancing for longer moments
as slowly the red turned a deeper shade
and the stem began bending away
from view.
One day the rose was gone
and so I started seeing even more of the girl.
When I saw she made potpourri
from the dying petals
I smiled,
kissed her on the fleshy part of her …

“What can i say aside from the fact that I’m passionate about writing and I’m planning to take a Masters in Writing the Novel after i graduate.”

“Sarah Shaheen is a London based writer of North African origin. She is a cross between darling and savage, often musing on the wonders of ambiguity. Her interests include but are not limited to: employing conversations with strangers, experimental cookery, fundraising, religion, literature, masquerade and laughter.”

When I was a little girl my mother took me to Africa. I remember the plane, I remember that ominous feeling. I still get that feeling every time I travel to Africa. Something ominous hides in the streets, in the houses, behind the people, lurking in their minds, in their eyes. Still, whenever I feel lost I must travel here, the city of the lost, to find myself again.
When I was a little girl my mother took me to Africa. To be precise she took me to the province of …

“I have been writing as long as I can remember, and have always loved getting lost in books; some of my earliest memories are of my Mom taking me to the library.
I am a bit of a romantic and like to think that most of my writing has a dreamy kind of romance about it.”