This page contains an index of the first lines from all 100 boxes.
001. Looks like we've got the river to ourselves tonight.
002. Caroline's got this thing that you always need absolute control...
003. There's gulls bickering for old condoms and poisoned fish washed up on the shingle.
004. One minute watching Saturday night telly, quite enjoying it actually.
005. I knock over the chair as I run.
006. I suppose I should have been nicer to him but I was only little myself, then.
007. The door opens and closes on its own, I don't know where the draft is coming from.
008. She was ten. She went out with my Co-op book and three shillings...
009. The first time I tried jumping in the river at night.
010. Some days it's perfect, some days totally mutant.
011. I resented your twenty-four hour demands.
012. Laura had the voice of a bird and the curves of a Highland road.
013. My body pops off the bonnet. Everything goes black.
014. Pluto, fascists, horror films and I were born in the Thirties.
015. Tony sits on me next to the sofa to try and stop me screaming.
016. Sometimes, especially on pension day when I might have had too many cans, I fall over.
017. When I cover my ears your voice is still inside. I wanna kill you.
018. In the new fitted kitchen I undress her next to the shopping.
019. The sterilisation was my idea.
020. Jim's like a building on the horizon.
021. I should leave off drinking on an empty stomach.
022. I'm sick of being buggered about.
023. I hardly go to the shops anymore because of the chemicals.
024. Two fresh symptoms today. An ache behind the eyes and a tender feeling across the scalp.
025. I told the others I was a lesbian.
026. Just give me the bloody morphine.
027. The windows are dirty. Faces like slow white smears.
028. I'm home because everyone knows I'm finished anyway.
029. I smell wonderful tonight. My hair looks like advert hair.
030. A person has to follow their gut...
031. I tell Carmel what to do with the insurance.
032. A production line of filthy, patched-up aeroplanes...
033. It looks like we're splitting up after all.
034. Ruth, Jack used say, you're stranger than fiction.
035. It's really hard to get worried or worked up about something you take every day.
036. He's wearing dark glasses and I imagine grief or bruises.
037. The empty windows frame the postman.
038. I tie Tommy up outside the front door and watch telly.
039. Just the right amount of that good shit in me and it's gone midnight.
040. My hangovers are worse these days and I need a day to get over them.
041. I always used to be afraid of being touched or shat on by the gulls, but fascinated with them.
042. Regret, the police, vodka, head lice, cancer, advertising creatives...
043. The street has shiny tarmac scars people drive over without noticing.
044. You'll find that ghosts cross a person's mind at a time like this.
045. I begin to get the distinct impression the driver is taking advantage of me...
046. Nothing ever changes. Looking for a job. Haven't heard from anyone.
047. I had this vague sense of disaster while I was shaving this morning.
048. Everything in the magazine looks painful, but I suppose that's the point.
049. There's a pool on the floor of the day room, I'm in it, I'm making it bigger...
050. About 8:30 you get the schoolgirls with racoon makeup and belly buttons out.
051. I had to follow my instincts, same instincts that lead me into sniffing glue out of bags.
052. He was horny, yeah, good looking bloke. But he had the tiniest dick in the world.
053. There's something about parks at night.
054. I hate the 4-D room. Dead, dying, diseased and disabled.
055. We're thin as a glance from a moving car.
056. There's something on with puppets but he makes me turn it off.
057. The nurse is one of those women who have such hard, tough looking faces...
058. These things aren't working. His size 11s tracked across my clean carpet to the door.
059. He holds my hand a lot. It's like a horror film without the horror.
060. He stopped ringing before either of us wore the conversation down to facts.
061. It's like that film Night of the Livid Dead and I play the role of the zombie....
062. By the time I fight through to reception, Sean and Tracey have already lost the battle...
063. My legs are starting to go numb. I could be here all day before anyone finds me.
064. If Freud was the father of Psychoanalysis and his writings gave birth to it...
065. His eyes are black dots, dead space.
066. Jo's still crying behind that sheet of beautiful blonde hair, crying into her tiger's back.
067. He looks tiny, almost frail, my boy with the old man's face.
068. Twenty quid for a car stereo. Good one, as well. Made it last nearly two weeks.
069. I used to barely be able to watch the news.
070. Mum was a pining walrus wrapped in polyester who couldn't take anything you said at face value.
071. Men are generous with their sperm. They'll share it with women, men.
072. The smell of petrol everywhere, coating my palate, stinging my eyes. Net curtains on fire.
073. Forgot how I got here. A nasty toilet somewhere...
074. I can't stay late, she says- with her serious tan and her grey eyes...
075. Draw in the back garden. Draw flowers and monsters and James.
076. Eyeliner pasted on with a mop. Bruised eyeshadow, brown, yellow, purple.
077. The blinds are drawn and the heaters churn like an ultrasound heartbeat.
078. I'm in computers, he said, Like all of us.
079. I pop a couple as soon as I get there, saying I have to piss after the long drive.
080. I wake up again and this time it hardly even worries me that I'm pinned here, upside down almost.
081. They make me sit down and eat more food than I'd normally eat in a whole day.
082. Miranda sits by me, stands by me, lays beside me. I hate the way people smell when they've been sick.
083. Peter's gone. I'm positive now. Past scatterbrained, past confused, past senile, even.
084. Yeah? Come on then. Come on then. Fuck. Fuck off, that hurt. You're dead, fucker.
085. This place is disgusting. Freezing cold, dank, scrawl on the walls.
086. I feel like I've got Tourette's syndrome. All I can do is spit and swear and scream.
087. That's the thing about security. In the end you forget whether you meant to lock yourself in, or everybody else out.
088. I bet every father thinks their daughter is the most beautiful girl in the world. But it's true.
089. The copper says Can I ask you if you've been taking drugs, sir? I can't stop laughing...
090. When we play monsters and Mummy catches me, she never kills me, she only tickles me.
091. Sex. I remember sex. I know what's really going on. She's just not attracted to me anymore.
092. Trois Gymnopédies. Lent et douloureux. Erik Satie, about 1890 I think.
093. Could have been a great lover, but never had chance because nobody ever threw themselves at my feet.
094. All because of a tumour so small it's almost impossible to visualise, in my heart, and because it broke loose.
095. He told me he liked all those kinds of things. Wanking off winos and tramps.
096. Another day, another town. Another load of fat smug faces you'd as soon punch as look at.
097. A burglar mid-crime on the telly. Making a collage from the catalogue. The smell of glue.
098. I admit perhaps to physical unmanliness. Some people even deemed me mental.
099. Ninety-nine. Twenty-two, he was, from the local paper.
100. There was an old man called Michael Finnegan.
