Julian Stannard, "The University of Bliss"

Julian Stannard is the author of nine collections of poetry. His New and Selected Poems were published by Salt in 2025. In 2024 he was awarded the Lerici Shelley Prize for his contribution to Italian literature. Sagging Meniscus Press (USA) brought out his campus novel The University of Bliss at the end of 2024. He is a Reader in English and Creative Writing at the University of Winchester. For many years he taught at the University of Genoa. His website is here. 

About The University of Bliss, by Julian Stannard
The University of Bliss is campus novel. It’s set in 2035. Senior management - VC Gladys Nirvana, Pro Vice-Chancellor Imelda Wellbeloved and Dean of Discipline Professor Leech - bullies a beleaguered teaching staff. All seems hopeless until a triumvirate of lecturers – Harry Blink, Tristan Black and Humph Lacan – stages a fight back. Discoveries are made. There’s a very important aubergine. The stakes are high.

You can read more about The University of Bliss on the publisher's website here. You can read a review of the novel by Kim Wiltshire on Everybody's Reviewing here. Below, you can read two extracts from the novel. 

From The University of Bliss

1.

The Reverend Lady Bishop—Imelda Wellbeloved—ambled around the campus with a Shih Tzu. The dog had been flown over from the factory in Tibet at great expense. There was a range of Shih Tzus available but Imelda had gone for the luxury model. A top of the range Shih Tzu could glow in the dark—as could its excrement—which the dog generously spread around the campus far and wide in small, illuminated packages.

The Student Volunteer Scheme encouraged students to become Shih Tzu poop scoopers—something for the CV—and they were incentivized by a Zapp which allowed them to use a high-tech Poop Nav Ping-Pong Bat which had the magnetic force to suck the excrement from a considerable distance and at great speed. Having shot through the air the luminous crap hit the ping pong bat with a satisfying smack. The experience was heightened if a member of staff inadvertently stepped into the flight path.

2.

Harry didn’t want to live in South Town. That grim conurbation. University teachers could rent a modest property there. They needed a middling citizen score to obtain their residence permit. A lower score meant North Town or—God forbid—Shit Town. If his citizen score dipped he could be re-located at any moment. Disciplinary proceedings meant academics got sent to Shit Town for three-month tasters, on half pay and with limited access to toilet paper. In any case South Town was shitty enough. Sometimes the train stopped at Shit Town. The air full of faecal odours. Travellers rushed to close the windows. An automated voice announced:

‘This is Shit Town. Please don’t alight unless you live here. Please don’t alight unless you live here. This is Shit Town ...’

Harry looked at the miserable bastards getting off. Wasn’t that Terry Eagleton?

The Joe Orton Creative Writing Competition 2024

 

The School of Arts, Media and Communication at the University of Leicester runs an annual Joe Orton Creative Writing Competition that invites A-Level students to write an Edna Welthorpe letter.

"Edna Welthorpe" was the persona that Orton invented to satirise the values he abjured - middle-class, middlebrow, conservative. Through Edna's letters of complaint (or praise), Orton lampooned social and sexual convention. 

Below, the 2024 winner, Mona Bacon (Brighton, Hove & Sussex Sixth Form College) reflects on her experience of the competition.

You can read Mona’s winning Edna Welthorpe letter here. Details about previous years' winners are on Creative Writing at Leicester here. Next year’s competition is already open – deadline: 30 June, 2025. Details are here. 

By Mona Bacon

Having previously only vaguely heard of Joe Orton, I was charmed by his playful approach to his characters when I read his plays. I particularly love the way he embraces the extremes and absurdity of the world he saw around him but avoids cruelty or personal insult in his prank letters, channelling his frustrations into humour.

As I recently started working part-time in retail, my entry into the competition was inspired by the somewhat ridiculous comments and complaints that many of the British public still generously employ. While the term "Aunt Edna" may have originally described theatre-goers of the 1950s, the entitled attitude of Edna Welthorpe is still no thing of the past.

This competition was a lovely way to get back into the Creative Writing I used to enjoy, reminding me that it can be silly as well as serious. I found the experience of writing from the perspective of someone so different from me incredibly freeing, and this has been a brilliant exercise in using tone and voice to create an interesting and engaging character.

While Edna’s abundance of self-entitlement is certainly excessive, I do think that small doses of this confidence can be a very helpful asset, and I hope to continue applying this to my writing and my own character. Perhaps, every once in a while, we should all be a little bit Edna Welthorpe.

Jordan Crandall, "Autodrive"

 

Jordan Crandall is Professor of Visual Arts at University of California, San Diego. He is the author of five books, including Drive, an anthology of his artworks, media installations, and theoretical writings published by Neue Galerie Graz and ZKM Center for Art and Media Karlsruhe. In 2011 he was the recipient of the Vilém Flusser Theory Award for outstanding research in media art and digital culture. Autodrive is his first work of fiction.

About Autodrive, by Jordan Crandall

Autodrive is a work of literary fiction that melds techno-scientific inquiry and storytelling, critical theory and comedy, speculative fiction and satire. It is a road novel of sorts, an odyssey along the highways at a time when a new form of superintelligence has emerged. This new form of artificial intelligence is not entirely distinct from the characters in the narrative — it is ingrained in the machines they already use, the vehicles they already take, the systems they are already part of, but cannot fully see. The human character who is typically at the center of the fictional world gives way to an eccentric cast of performers — an ensemble of people and machines.

You can see more information about Autodrive on the publisher's website here. Below, you can read an excerpt from the novel. 

From Autodrive

City Center West 

There was an accident at the construction site on the north side of the Crosstown. One of the excavation machines knocked a truck off the overpass. It created a huge bottleneck along the frontage road. We had to inch along in bumper to bumper traffic for nearly an hour. 

People were patient at first, but then a few of the passengers started complaining in a way that caused everyone else to start complaining. A strange phenomenon happens in situations like that, suddenly everyone unloads, it releases a feeling of anguish but also excitement. 

Everyone was speaking loudly in order to be heard above the noise. But it was hard to hear anything, you could only pick up bits and pieces of what people were saying. There was talk of accidents, anomalies, irrepressible crowds. A hearse chasing a group of tourists. A delivery truck menacing a passenger van. A parking lot brawl that got out of hand. 

A traveler in the adjoining seat started talking to me. I found it hard to engage with him because he was wearing one of those facepieces that hide your expression. The only part that moves is a mouthlike orifice, a slot over the mouth for eating. Sometimes it snaps open and shut and you expect a voice to come out, but the voice does not come from there, it comes from an embedded speaker that has no relation to the mouth. 

There is a much greater chance of misunderstanding if your face is hidden, I told him. It is better to have a transparent shield, like an astronaut. A bubble is better. 

He started telling me about a mysterious car that was trailing him. A Compiler-type model that did nothing but follow him around. It would pull up to the house and sit there. Park outside the office and wait. He said he could feel it out there waiting for him even if he could not see it—one of those things you just know, like when you can feel someone staring at you without having to turn around to look. 

I asked him if he had any idea of who might be in the car. 

He had the sense that there was no one operating the car. That it was self-determined in some other way. 

What way, I asked him. 

Like the cars in those old road movies, he said. The ones that had no drivers but were self-operated somehow—powered by an unknown force. Limousines and hearses, towncars and trucks that appeared out of nowhere and chased people. Plowed into traffic, mowed down pedestrians, bumped off policemen, slammed into cars. Messengers of catastrophe, he called them. Self-aware, self-willed, superintelligent machines ready to strike, turn on the people they were created to serve. 

A superintelligent machine would not act that way, I told him. It would be more like a conglomerate, more like a corporation than a vehicle. If you want to worry about a malevolent AI, that is what you should be concerned about. Not a machine that is out to get you, but an organization that is. 

Anietie Isong, "News at Noon"

 

Anietie Isong has worked as a corporate writer for some of the biggest brands in the world. His first novel, Radio Sunrise, won the 2018 McKitterick Prize. His collection of short stories, Someone Like Me, published in 2020, won the first annual Headlight Review Chapbook Prize for Prose Fiction. In 2021, Isong’s essay was included in Of This Our Country, a ground-breaking anthology celebrating acclaimed Nigerian writers. He has spoken at the Aké Arts and Book Festival, Henley Literary Festival, Marlborough Literature Festival, among other literary festivals. Isong studied at the University of Leicester and De Montfort University. His new novel is News at Noon.

About News at Noon

News at Noon, a new satirical novel by Anietie Isong, interrogates what it means to be a journalist in an era of misinformation. When a new virus is detected in Lagos, Ifiok and his colleagues in the media must immediately tackle its spread by raising awareness, sharing information, and supporting the outreach efforts of health workers. Unfortunately, they also have to battle against hysteria, misinformation, corruption and denial. The book also explores other themes such as fashion, relationships, and acceptance: Ifiok has found himself torn between two lovers – the young fashion designer chosen by his meddling mother and the very attractive but much older boss at work.

You can see more about News at Noon on the publisher's website here. Below, you can read an excerpt from the novel. 

From News at Noon, by Anietie Isong

I was savouring my amala and egusi soup at The Lord Is My Shepherd Foods when Julius sent me a text. Apollo Man, our general manager, had summoned me to an emergency meeting with all news and programmes staff. I wolfed down my food. In my haste to leave, I abandoned a succulent piece of fried fish that I had unwisely reserved for the end of my meal. It also hurt that there was no time to wash my hands properly. This time Fresh Hands which Mama Shepherd had placed on the table claiming the washing liquid—made in China and made available only to special customers like me—could get rid of the most stubborn food smells, even fufu, would not be of use to me unfortunately.

Emergency meeting? My heart swung like a pendulum as I hurried back to Radio Sunrise. Was anything wrong? We had regular Monday meetings to discuss ongoing work and plan special broadcasts for occasions like Independence Day or Democracy Day. The last time we had an emergency meeting was when we found out that the erstwhile Minister of Information—nicknamed the Minister of Enjoyment because of his insatiable craving for parties—was coming to our station to commission a new digital studio.

Still longing for the last piece of fish I had left at The Lord Is My Shepherd Foods languishing on my otherwise clean plate, I entered our general manager’s office. ‘Is everyone here?’ Apollo Man asked. After a dozen staff members filed into the office it made me wonder if we could not have used the conference room on the second floor which had extra seating. I sat beside Boniface who had just returned from covering a press conference on the birthday of a prominent Lagos politician. He was grinning from ear to ear, a clear sign the assignment was fruitful.

Call for Submissions: "Yours Faithfully, Edna Welthorpe (Mrs)" Annual Creative Writing Competition

Edna Welthorpe Lives!

By Emma Parker

In 1967, Leicester-born playwright Joe Orton won the prestigious Evening Standard Play of the Year Award for his anarchic black comedy, Loot, prompting David Benedictus (author of the Winnie-the-Pooh sequel Return to the Hundred Acre Wood) to issue a public objection. How could a play widely condemned as ‘sick’ and ‘disgusting’ merit commendation? 

Amused that his satire on religious hypocrisy and police corruption should arouse such ire, Orton penned an ‘Edna Welthorpe’ letter in response:

        May I add my thoughts to those of David Benedictus on the subject of those ‘much-
        talked-of awards’?

        I agree that no one should seriously nominate as the play of the year a piece of 
        indecent tomfoolery like Loot. Drama should be uplifting. The plays of Joe Orton have 
        a most unpleasing effect on me (19 February, 1967).

‘Edna Welthorpe’ was the persona that Orton invented to write letters spoofing social and sexual conservatism. Middle-aged, middle-class and middlebrow, she is the opposite of Orton, a working-class gay man living in a period when homosexuality was still illegal. First created in 1958, Edna anticipates the emergence of Mary Whitehouse, the moral crusader who co-founded the ‘Clean-Up TV Campaign’ in 1964. In Orton’s Edna Welthorpe letters, concerns about public decency and declining moral standards sparked by the new ‘permissive society’ are rendered amusingly absurd.

In recent years, the growth of global conservatism (Brexit, Trump, the rise of the Far Right) seemed to call Edna back to life. 

When Curve, Leicester, staged Orton’s final play, What the Butler Saw, in 2017, I decided to reanimate Edna in a letter to director Nikolai Foster. I knew that Nikolai was familiar with Orton’s alias and would get the joke but didn’t anticipate that he’d share it by tweeting the letter. Edna’s outrage at a ‘depraved drama about sexual irregularity’ - especially intolerable when there’s already ‘enough of that in Holby City!’ - caused a stir on social media. Her reappearance was even reported in The Stage.

Once back, Edna soon found herself busy writing letters again.

To mark the 50th anniversary of Orton’s death in 2017, I teamed up with BAFTA-nominated filmmaker Chris Shepherd to launch a national Edna Welthorpe creative writing competition. Designed to teach students about satire and to encourage the next generation to keep Orton’s playfully subversive spirit alive, the competition debunked the myth that young people are politically disengaged: Tory Prime Minister Theresa May, retail tycoon Sir Philip Green and Waitrose were all lampooned. 

Alongside the competition, Chris and I commissioned new Edna letters from acclaimed actors and TV comedy writers such as Emmy Award winner Alec Baldwin (Saturday Night Live, 30 Rock), Caroline Moran (Raised by Wolves), Arthur Mathews (Father Ted, Toast of London), Jesse Armstrong (The Think of It, Peep Show) and David Quantick (Veep, The Fast Show). As the project grew, it was amazing to see how far Orton’s influence reaches and the depth of his impact on contemporary culture.  

With the aid of a Grant for the Arts from Arts Council England, Chris and I also made an animation inspired by the original Edna Welthorpe letters. The film, in which the wonderful actress Alison Steadman plays Edna, has been screened at Latitude festival; The Little Theatre, Leicester; Encounters Short Film Festival, Bristol; the London International Film Festival, Barbican; the British Animation Awards, London; the Short Film Festival, Institute of Contemporary Arts, London; the LGBT Feedback Festival, Toronto - billed as ‘a showcase of the best LGBT shorts in the world’; on the BBC Arts webpage and on Criterion TV in the USA. It’s tantalising to ponder what Edna might say to Donald Trump.

The film and new Edna letters can be found on a website that includes a creative writing worksheet showing how anger at social injustice can be channelled into humour and offers satire as an alternative to hate speech: www.ednawelthorpe.co.uk.

The website won a Saboteur Award in 2018 (Wildcard category). What more appropriate award could there be for a project that honours Joe Orton, a prankster and provocateur who gleefully sought to demolish repressive social norms and hierarchies?

As Alec Baldwin, channelling Edna, commented on news of the Saboteur Award via Twitter: ‘Jolly good!’

Joe Orton Creative Writing Competition