For general student, alumni and other enquiries please email
warwicklgbtuanetwork@gmail.com
For corporate enquiries, including if you would like to find out more about what a partnership or sponsorship deal with Warwick PLAN could do for early careers diversity at your business, please email
warwickplancorporate@gmail.com
If you would prefer to contact us by phone then please call one of our Co-Presidents or our Treasurer on the following numbers
Kian Cushman, Co-President: +447776254499
Thomas Fry, Co-President: +447955705655
James Thompson, Treasurer: +447857821101
You can also reach out to us via our Facebook, Instagram or LinkedIn, linked at the top of this page, through the direct messaging functionality
For general student, alumni and other enquiries please email
warwicklgbtuanetwork@gmail.com
For corporate enquiries, including if you would like to find out more about what a partnership or sponsorship deal with Warwick PLAN could do for early careers diversity at your business, please email
warwickplancorporate@gmail.com
If you would prefer to contact us by phone then please call one of our Co-Presidents or our Treasurer on the following numbers
Kian Cushman, Co-President: +447776254499
Thomas Fry, Co-President: +447955705655
James Thompson, Treasurer: +447857821101
You can also reach out to us via our Facebook, Instagram or LinkedIn, linked at the top of this page, through the direct messaging functionality


The Heist
Poem by Jasper Young

Photo: Maxim Hopman / Unsplpash
A get-away car.
Three houses down the street.
Engine still running,
tapping the steering wheel
like a drum, waiting for the all clear -
a door pushed ajar and a text saying:
“You coming in then?”
A street rigged with lasers,
tripwires of judgemental glares and gazes –
neighbourhood guards armed with
whispers and Facebook Messenger.
Keys swinging, mouth whistling,
a skip in my step that can do no wrong,
even though I’m doing nothing wrong,
I still feel like I’m doing something wrong,
but I’m doing nothing wrong -
I’m doing nothing wrong.
In the door – door shut, door closed,
door locked. Eyes lock. Heart-stopped.
Target identified.
A hallway surveyed by eyes
of family members I’ll never get to meet.
Shoes off to not leave a mark –
bundled into my grab-and-go
swag-bag of belongings,
no evidence left behind.
He wears my hand like a glove,
fingerprints dusting together,
Partners in crime.
A bedroom broken into
like cracking into a safe,
breaking into a bank of high-stacked
golden bars and fat-wads of cash,
un-buckling belts of treasure troves
filled with strings of silver pearls
and doubloons to match.
Skin smelted together like gold,
burglars between the sheets, attached.
A car passes by -
Frozen metal.
His eyes soldered to mine –
a look of diamond shattering
like sugar-glass.
Peeking through the curtain,
sunshine like a searchlight in the dark,
he turns back to me,
coast clear, curtain shut -
A look of
I’m sorry, I forgot we were thieves.
A get-away car.
Three houses down the street.
Engine running –
when it’s over, it’s over.
I thought there’d be sirens,
not silence.
I thought I’d be wealthy,
not worthless.
I thought I’d live in a world
where thieves are not thieves,
but get back -
what is stolen from us.