Banker and the Tramp

If you bought £1000 of shares from Northern Rock in 2007, one year later it would have been worth £4.95. If, however, you bought £1000 of Tenants lager, drank it all, and then took the empty cans to the aluminium recycling plant, you would have got £214. Moral: Drinking is financially more productive than banking….

Three Words, Do Not Share (the Bird…)

When I started writing me and a friend, Danny, used to text each other three words and then we would have to write a short story about those things. For instance, one text said, “Goat, money, burgers.” Another one said, “My son, a sausage, 99 encyclopaedias.” We would have one day to write each story…

Entertaining the Devil

It’s midnight. The record player is stuck in a loop. Muddy Waters is singing, “I’ve got my mojo work- I’ve got my mojo work- I’ve got my mojo work-“. My head nods in front of the monitor of my laptop. I pick up my whisky glass and twirl it. The ice clatters around the Grouse…

Catching the Inky Flu

Writing. Norman Mailer called it the spooky art. I remember when I first got the bug to actually put pen to paper. For some reason, at the age of 20, I decided to read a kids book. I had spent much of my time up until that point ignoring books and dedicating my time to…

Six Easy Steps to Proving Your Own Stupidity

Sep one: Agree to go to the pub with David Chapman (my Brother) for a quick beer. Step two: Order a hot dog, during which you have two pints, and in doing so acquire the taste for more beer. Step three: Let a stranger talk you into doing a quiz. Step four: Cheat at quiz…

Paradise Lost, Hobby Gained

In a Ford dealership in Bournemouth a metallic helium balloon, shaped like a cloud, pronounces the slogan; “Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining”. I wonder, as I dip my mop in its bucket, if they know they are quoting John Milton. As a cleaner in this dealership I run my mop up and down the…

The Manuscript Thief

So there I was. It was Christmas Eve. Two days earlier I had finally finished my second book. The first draft had been printed off. The plan was to leave it, to forget about, to not even look at it, for a few months. Then, on one lonesome evening, I would pick up the manuscript…