Wednesday, 29 May 2013

Important Announcement!

I have a very serious announcement to make that will affect you all. It will shape your lives and influence all decisions you make in the future.

No, it’s not about flippen zombies! I have given you zombies! What more can I do for you in that regard! Blimey, you’re so freaking ungrateful!

No. This is about me. It’s always about me, this is my blog. My little vent hole – through which I haven’t been venting much bile recently, it’s been building up! It’ll burst out soon! All over your faces!!!! HAHA! You’ll like that.

That was not the announcement either. 

Nor is it about the Colchester Comedy Workshop showcase on Saturday, and how well it went and how I have taken this long to recover from the experience of going on stage in some sort of desolate wasteland, with faces looking at me, while I was tied up with tin cans.

It’s ok – I got through the performance by consuming a vat of black coffee and a small keg of something described only as ‘Monster’.

I’m also not going to tell you about how well the showing of ‘Parkwick Sports Day’ went. About how it was on a wonky ship and the bit between the audience and the screen was a corridor that was constantly in use, and when the public wandered in looking lost and forlorn, they were all surprised that they would have to walk in front of a film.

Some just proudly strode through in a sort of ‘I’m a parent! I’m the most important thing on the planet so sod you all!’ way. Others gave a sort of sheepish look and then did a funny walk, clearly embarrassed about their body mass blocking the screen, but not actually doing anything about it except feeling shame. That’s helpful.

A teeny, tiny, minute few, one, maybe two, people actually worked out that they could walk around the back of the projector and not disturb anyone at all, but clearly only a very small percentage of people either care enough, or have the brain capacity to understand how a projector works.

Although I will say that one child tried to walk behind the projector, but was furiously pulled in front of it by a self-important Parent (they are so important that we have to give them a capital letter). The only thing that helped me get through that screening was the sure and certain hope that the child in question will grow up to despise his stupid and self-important, idiotic, spittoon of a progenitor when they finally have the mental and physical capacity to ‘rebel’.

Generally teenage rebellion is not a rebellion; it is simply an awakening to the idiocy of parenthood. After all, even in the best possible circumstances, becoming a parent has to be the ultimate in desperate, lazy, fall back options. Everything else in your life has come to nothing, so you decide to breed in the vain hope that your offspring will achieve all that you haven’t. They won’t. They will follow your fetid and lazy path to its inevitable deathly climax and eventually the human race will peter out and as the last living person stares at the blinding sun and thinks back to all the greatness that humanity has achieved, the basic ability to reproduce probably won’t be the one thing that stands out.

“For flip’s sake! What is your announcement!?”

Oh, yeah: I got into Uni. WOOT.

Monday, 20 May 2013


Have I mentioned this to you? It does seem like the kind of thing I might have spoken about in passing.


Probably the best zombie comedy novella based in Romford, in the WORLD! And it's only £1!!

If you want to have a gander at a FREE (yes! FREEEEEEEEEE!) chapter, then go ahead and likey like the Facebook page.

Wednesday, 15 May 2013

Sod it!

Possibly not the best attitude to take when publishing your first book online, but that is the nadir I have reached.

“I write the forward next Tuesday… promise.” Whined my brother on the sixth month. Sod it – I thought, it was cut.

The font’s all sliding to the left.

Sod it. I thought and pressed publish.

35% or 70% but with technical details that have to be read and thought about and maybe we’ll price match and maybe we won’t and maybe you can charge £1 but maybe you should charge £1.50… think about it… be consumed by greed so we can do something terrible to you!

So ‘sod it’ I thought and charged 98p which may or may not turn into a £1 once VAT has been added. WHO CAN SAY!

So this is all turning into a great experiment in technical detail.

I’m sure Shakespeare never had this trouble when he was writing his sonnets on the starched remains of a pig.

Still we are all in the future now (yes we are, they are going to mars, so this is the future) so I ought to get used to the idea of overly complicated technical details and being swindled by an IT guy.

But the most important thing is that ITS COMING!


It’s actually being processed now! Are you excited? Are you? Are you all getting hyped?

No? Oh well… sod it.

Wednesday, 8 May 2013


My ego is quietly plotting something horrible.

I know that it’s doing it, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. It is too powerful. Too fat-headed to be stopped. The end will be horrid and messy.

Even now my ego whispers epic lies!

It is plotting and planning my downfall, all the while believing it is setting itself on the path to glory.

It's all fine for the ego! The ego doesn’t have to be there on the day! The ego doesn’t have to learn the lines! In fact it flatly refuses ‘I don’t need lines! I can blag it! It will be better that way!’ but will it turn up on the day? Will it be there at my side as I fret and wail and cry?


It’ll bugger off and sleep somewhere, in some dark and dingy cave with a sleep dragon while I am left to gawp at a faceless crowd of faces! 

There are precious few days to go before I launch myself at an audience in an attempt to be funny. It will happen on Saturday the 25th of May. Remember that day! For it shall be my last!

I shall crumble as my ego flits off into the distance to dance a waltz with a Giraffe-Cow and I shall be left, wibbling and wobbling in my shoes before I melt into a puddle of oozing shame. 

Entrance is free!

Wednesday, 1 May 2013

Mars Awaits

Ah yes. Mars. The red planet. The God of war. That wandering star. Erm... and other stuff that would be appropriate for the voice over on a dodgy channel five documentary.

“Why are you bothering me with this useless information?” I hear you ask, ever so patiently.

Well it has not escaped my attention that ‘they’ (the men in black, I assume) are looking for people to move there.

I assume they are building an out of town housing estate, they will probably have a Park & Ride back into the centre – I hate those things, just friggen go there for Pete’s sake, what’s all this faffing for? – anyhoo this is a very exciting thing.

“I don’t care.”

Well you should care and I am about to tell you why.

Think of it. An empty planet. Ready to be colonised, waiting to be filled with silly little humans wandering around saying ‘look at that!’ ‘let’s dig this up’ ‘how to you spell antelope?’.

How will these silly little humans cope without trees and the ocean? With only a tiny little sun in the distance and no red hot beams filling up their eyes?

No clubs, no city centres, no hordes and a blank canvas of lovely emptiness to be filled by their own little social ideals. This is the chance to create that new civilisation wot Kirk is always banging on about!

“Why are you excited about this, you weirdo?!”

HAHA I’m glad you asked!

You see I have long had the aim of becoming Queen of the World. But alas I have been prevented by things like sleepytime and hidden cheese, but this is my chance! My chance to become Queen! Not of stinky old earth, not of this second rate hand-me-down where I would simply become one name among the many names of despot leaders from the past. Forgotten, sucked into oblivion by the inevitability of time, no! I would become the first Queen, the first great leader of Mars! 

I would be a god. Probably.