iiii Magazine is an independent arts and culture publication, based in London and Manchester. We talk about culture in the sense suggested by Francis Bacon, when he said of intellectual enrichment: 'the culture and manurance of minds’. Our approach to culture is the same: that something bright and engaging may be derived from detritus. We love cultural ephemera in particular, and despite Bacon’s near-perfect turn of phrase, it is the position of the magazine that it is not sufficient. We publish articles that stretch our assumptions of what culture can be, so long as they are forged with originality.

We place no limits on subject matter or form — we have published incisive criticism, personal essays and memoirs, humour pieces and odes to oddities — but we take as a guiding principle this from Flann O’Brien’s The Third Policeman (1967): 

‘Always ask any questions that are to be asked […] Turn everything you hear to your own advantage. Always carry a repair outfit. Take left turns as much as possible. Never apply your front brake first’. 

¶ Visit Our Shop

Support the magazine by visiting our SHOP.

~ With the help of Studio Hyte, we created a football (scarf) with no crest, no local, nor national allegiance — a garment that challenges the ugly attitudes that alienate so many from the beautiful game.
~ As well as looking fresh, your (scarf) is also doing its bit to address the aforementioned issues, with 10% of all profits raised donated to LGBT charity Stonewall (Charity number: 1101255)

¶ Work With Us

iiii Magazine is a non-profit organisation, and our modest team of editors, reporters, and social scribes work on a voluntary basis. We do have plans to address this in the future. As it is we are looking for a creative, driven individual to join the team, to help shape future editions. If you would like to work for iiii Magazine, do send a CV and a cover letter outlining the sort of role you would like to take to We will do our best to get back to you quickly.


¶ Forthcoming Editions

A Publication by iiii Magazine: A look at football culture through twenty classic kits

(crest) is a book that entwines history, design, and football culture to enliven debate about belonging — both local and national — in a fractious British and European moment. Classic football kits are artefacts highly sought after by collectors and fans alike. Is this a question of design, of a club’s success, or of nostalgia? Can it be all or none of these things? In twenty short essays by twenty writers, (crest) charts the peculiar histories of each of the 2018/19 Premier League football clubs through the lens of a prized classic kit from the past decades. The book takes football seriously at its root, and looks at how larger forces drive the sense of allegiance of football-loving individuals — what hidden personal stories make the Beautiful Game beautiful when it can seem so ugly?

Produced by iiii Magazine, (crest) will feature quality photography and minimalist design. iiii encourages deep and engaged archival research, as well as idiosyncratic and strange personal stories. Whatever the mode or the form, iiii Magazine is committed to providing generous editorial support to writers.

To pitch a text, please email:
To be involved in any other capacity, email:

¶ Online

The online publication continues all year round, and publishes articles in three broad categories:

  1. Esoterica and funny writing [the stranger, more parochial, the better]
  2. Long-form interviews and features
  3. The 500 [react, respond in 500 words to an artefact, a lyric, a piece of punctuation, anything]

If your text does not fit into one of the above categories, don't fret, we just need a pitch. Please send a query or an extract from your text to with SUBMISSION in the subject line. Work should be previously unpublished; but we will consider work under consideration elsewhere if you let us know. We are run by a team of volunteers, and thus we are unfortunately not yet in a position to offer a fee.

Please provide a short author’s bio-line which will be published under your piece. 'Algenon Overling is a fictional writer based in 12th Century Denmark. He likes to relax with his kestrel and his crossbow. Good with kids’.

Style Guide

Please defer to the short style guide. It not only saves on editorial nit-picking, but illustrates commitment to the publication.

  1. Oxford commas, yes. In lists of three or more things, include a comma between the final two, before the ‘and’ (Manchester, Leeds, and London).
  2. Titles of books, films, exhibitions italicised. Titles of artworks ‘Like This’ (2018).
  3. One space after full-stops. Always.
  4. ‘Use single quotation marks “except for quotes within quotes” at all times’.
  5. Include spaces before and after em-dashes. (I wouldn’t — but for in unlikely circumstances — consider a teacake).
  6. Dates: 5 May 2016 / Decades: 1980s.
  7. Special formatting requirements are difficult to manage on an optimised website, but we will always try to meet a writer’s needs.



The 500
Mare Humorum

Jordan Harrison-Twist


A duckegg blue thing ‘sailing majestically among the myriad stars of the firmament’ is, for all intents and purposes, the Moon. But the home of Peter Firmin’s The Clangers is distinguished — explicitly so — by co-creator Oliver Postgate. This barren, cratered rock is actually, he says, a star.

The Clangers, an intelligent race with zeppelin-buggy technology, neo-medieval fashion sensibilities and techno-whistle voiceboxes, seem quite content with their little world, stretched over a core of soup, guarded by a snowbird dinner lady dragon. A star’s tendency to be quite hot, and quite massive, doesn’t perturb the little mousepigs it accommodates, as they contentedly go about their business, pleased not to have become crackling.

At about the same time that this quintessential British stop-motion was put together, a similarly extraordinary sequence of photographs was being sent back from another world, as the Hasselblad cameras of Apollo 11 scooped the imagination of millennia into vitrines, all gold visors and gold foil lander’s legs and gold flagpoles, and gold on the podium. But Postgate was sensitive to the real possibility that a manned space programme could end in disaster, and so the Clangers became star-, not Moon-dwellers — for if the unthinkable should happen (again), it ‘would have been one of the blackest jokes in television history’.

That such a pure artefact as The Clangers was initially criticised by the BBC for “bad language” (hearing-impaired producer Ursula Eason accurately picked out the whistle-inflected swear-word ‘bloody’ amidst Major Clanger’s beration of a sliding door) is reminiscent of the Moon as universal signifier — some vessel for Earthly interpretations. It has an unchanging gaze, yet transformative magic; it gives light for both dancing, and killing; it is the most grandiose human achievement, or the most flagrant conspiracy. Perhaps to dichotomise even further: it was muse to the sparse, psychedelic wonder of The Clangers, and the comparatively trashy Button Moon (1980)*.

*Trashy in that the puppets were built from found materials. And that it was shite.

And peering across all of these creations is the most famous comic Moon of all: the pathetic, half-blinded figure of George Méliès’s Le Voyage Dans la Lune (1902), with the arcuate brow and exquisite lips of Pierrot, and the wince of abject humiliation as a gob of some other clown’s pie sops from his eyesocket. Méliès’s experiments caught the public imagination by the artist’s ability to stop, and refigure the world between the frames — just as NASA’s crowning image unveiled from the bottomless black hat of space the most familiar bluegreen ball. Refreshed.

Owing a great deal to the clown-prank aesthetic of Méliès, Noel Fielding and Julian Barratt’s The Mighty Boosh opted instead for shaving foam, harking back to the DIY bathroom beards of kids everywhere. And indeed, the surreal genius of Boosh’s Moon is that far from the silent sobriety of the Ever Watchful, this is a character held in a permanent state of benign childhood, who instead of expressing an endless awe at the beauty of his terrestrial brother, is more taken with himself. 'If you are a Moon you don’t have a mirror, so if you want to see your face you have to have a little look in the rivers. I had a look in there — I’m flipping beautiful! I’m all handsome, and a smooth, white moon. And he’s all— I haven’t got any eyebrows but I think that only gives me a bit more an edge'.