meI don’t want to see your lunch. I think I am not alone in saying this, but your shitty low quality picture of food holds no interest to me. Oh but you do have to laugh at those people not on social media, don’t they just look so silly making no effort to gain the approval of total strangers over the Internet… As an author you are expected, or at least it is suggested that you promote using social media, but it is full! There are many outlets and all of them are full. Facebook, google+, Linkedin, Goodreads all have millions of people promoting the shit out of their work, all saying the same stuff. A thousand voices saying ‘read my shit’. So now folk try to hijack other peoples threads by tenuously weaving in their promotion; ‘Yeah, it is awful losing your young husband to prostate cancer, I’m so sad for you… though I do know how you feel though… kinda… in my book ‘The Realm of Thwargone’ the husband of Princess Gweenaaaah is killed by Borlock the dark elf.” Goodreads has posts like ‘Brag about your book’ and the resulting thread is literally thousands long with descriptions and links for peoples work that nobody reads. Sure if you are the first to post maybe you earn a casual glance, but if your entry is mere seconds later it will be on page 164… you might as well write your details on a piece of paper and go for a walk, then insert it in the ass of the first cat you see (you might need gloves). At least you know someone will go ‘Honey there is something wrong with mittens! Oh my GOD, there is something in her ass… it, I don’t believe it… it is a note! Well, while disgusting I have discovered a new novel and a new author, thank you mittens for your literary suggestion.’ It is like standing in front of a mirror and asking your reflection to buy your book. So many when promoting their work have become like Amazon, and I don’t like it when Amazon does it, but the bombard you. Post something about ‘What a beautiful day’ and get someone reply ‘Yeah, it is, however a vampire would never see the sun, just like in my YA vampire erotic novel ‘Fifty Shades of Twilight’. Can you imagine being in the supermarket looking at pasta for instance and a member of staff comes up with an stainless steel pot ‘Hi – this copper bottomed pot is fantastic for cooking pasta!’ Then another comes up with a jar of sauce, and if like Amazon another would come up flaunting something irrelevant ‘Buying pasta? Try this sleeping bag!’ You’d tell them to fuck off. So why do people think it is okay to bomb people on the internet? I think the one I hate most is when you have an email ‘Be my friend on Goodreads’ and I think WOW this dude likes me, likes what I read, likes what I say. Okay my soon to be buddy I will friend you. Seconds later and about every day after get bombarded with ‘Legend of Gwanderfwaar’ the brilliant (you can’t call it brilliant yourself you fucking shit-stain) is now available for only $1.

People on the internet are sold to death, it’s done, there are too many people doing it. It reminds me of an orgy I went to once. I’m not saying a had a pubic hair problem, but when I got an erection it looked like Pinocchio had joined the Taliban. So I shaved and having Italian DNA, I’m a hairy dude. When I shaved my junk it looked like a fire had broke out – hairy belly, hairy legs and nothing between. So I shaved everything. What do you get when you shave? Shaving rash. I had it from neck to foot, so I looked like I had rampant and raging herpes. Turning up to that orgy and being ignored is exactly how it feels promoting work on the internet.

So is the internet pointless? No.

It seems obvious to me but the clue is in the name, social media, not promotion media. Seems some (many) still fail to engage. I have met some amazing and I think of as genuine friends who write an often with an ocean between us on the internet. There is a difference between whoring and sharing your work. Some of the best stuff I’ve read has been via my now expanded circle of writer friends; one is now one of my favorites writers. I help by recommending their work as they do mine, but for me it is a place where I can network and find stuff I want to read from dudes I want to hang with. There are local pages on facebook that I’ve found great to ask for reader and reviewers where being local is the only reason they are interested. The internet has shown me local reader groups to visit and perform readings at and local book shops or writers groups where the biggest reward has come from actually being there and engaging people. Promotion still takes effort, just posting links isn’t now or ever has been enough, unless your goal is to piss people off.



2014-04-27 18.37.15I’ve been researching serial killers lately with a view to a future novel, when purely by accident I happened across a first edition copy of Trainspotting signed by Irvine Welsh. I don’t treat myself very often and at £30 it is a lot of money but I love the book and the author, and so I thought I would treat myself and ordered it. Did I get it? Nooo, that would be too easy. What I did get was so utterly stupid and pointless and the rage that followed was biblical. I hate stupid, nothing boils my piss more than that real stupid that is so utterly pointless that you can find not a shred of logic to it. I’ve got a new novella out and it is a grown ups piece, I’m trying to convince people I’m not an angry asshole that is clinically retarded, so I’m trying to not rant for a while, but you know, it’s fucking hard! What I got through the post instead of the book was a clear plastic envelope and on it read: “Our sincere apologies. We are sorry your item reached you in this condition. If anything is missing you can report it.” Inside the envelope, was another plastic envelope that had clearly been torn open and the contents missing, presumably stolen. If anything is missing? Of course it’s fucking missing, why the fuck would I go online and buy an torn open envelope? Even some one as stupid as me, and trust me I am stupid, I once went to an all you can eat buffet and the waiter said it was £5 a ticket so I bought two tickets because I was hungry, even I can work out that something was missing. What the fuck is the point of sending on just the envelope that the item should have been in, inside another envelope? What the fuck am I supposed to do with just the envelope? Sniff it to see how the book would have smelled? Or did they actually think I bought a torn open envelope? Maybe they were simply trying to say “Well… we almost got it to you.” Maybe they just wanted to let me know how it would have looked had they delivered it. What is the point of positing on what the couldn’t post as evidence that they didn’t post it? The irony that the post office’s efforts to post what they couldn’t post getting to me fine isn’t lost. I’m so pleased that this service has been privatised so you can now have the luxury of paying more to ensure you don’t get stuff. Oh and the debt is still ours, any British people reading this, the privatisation of the post office was another con by a government of sneaky con artists. The privatisation means that they have sold the bits that were doing well and sold the buildings yet the debt wasn’t paid off, no, we are paying for that shit still. They privatised the post office but nationalised the debts!

I do think I reached a new level of stupid because the envelope containing an empty envelope had to be signed for. That’s right, it had to be signed for, the post office wanted to ensure I got what I didn’t get… they should have made that much fucking effort to ensure I got my book! Why send the envelope? WHY? It makes no fucking sense. Y’know when people are found dead, they had a brain aneurysm and just dropped down dead, I think it is because they were faced with such utter stupidity that they thought and thought about it, searching for some logic, thinking so much that their brain implodes. The only way I can reconcile the stupid is that part of the privatisation, they sacked all the sorting staff and replaced them with the monkeys form the Wizard of Oz, nasty hairy fucks in hats that are just ripping up shit, and they were put there by UPS to make you go ‘Fuck this shit, I’m never using the post office again!”



970257_391201964317281_914675970_nSo, being the worst promoter ever of my own work, I’ve not once mentioned my new book ‘Remember to Forget’ on my blog, and, well that is an epic fail!
My new book is a compact little novella, that rather than featuring the whole drudge of a family and its life, it highlights a small slice, a life changing event. ‘Remember to Forget’ is hoped to show another side of me as a writer, because while Malice in Blunderland received lots of love, there are still those who didn’t get the style of writing and think, well think I am clinically retarded! So my new Novella I hope not only entertains but lets some know I just like any other writer can write in a style.

The little story revolves around Richard who due to a life spent of excess, pursuing women and using alcohol and cocaine has found himself in a coma. He can hear everything in his days of blackness and here is where he discovers his family, that he thought his wealth compensated for love. His wife and adult children are waiting impatiently for him to die, and only now can he see the ruin his selfishness has caused. Just as all is lost a voice tells him he can hear his thoughts and offers to help, and together they embark on a plan to deceive his family into finding each other and finding lost love. However, the journey is a painful one for our protagonist as he is made to witness the size of the damage he has caused. However, things are not quite as Richard thinks, as Richard too has been deceived. Nothing is as it seems.

As most of you who read my blog know I an epic in how crap I am at asking for stuff and promoting my work, well I am seeking reviews to kick off the whole review/amazon business bit of this author stuff. So if you want a digital copy, please do ask.

For a peek inside, got to the amazon link below and there you can have a sample read:

Thanks and check out my new booky!
*Yes… there is another rude comedy to follow soon*


jonnyThere is a literary establishment, who go to some length to insist they are not insular and ‘art first’ and all that, but, well, that’s just bollocks isn’t it. It makes me think of a literary washing machine, where the same authors are thrown inside and there they are, going around and around. I want to like the Guardian’s books section but it is like a tribute to the same people again and again. For example, they’ve recently run another piece on Phillip Roth on why he isn’t writing any more:

an article in a literary section of a national that is all about what a writer hasn’t written. Huh? How the fuck does that work? You don’t get food critics reviewing a meal a top chef didn’t make. The establishment seems so entrenched in promoting the same people that they feature writers in their mutual appreciation club who have no desire to write ever again… well, that isn’t writing is it. There are literally millions of people in the public eye with no intention of writing a book, lets hope they all don’t get featured too. It is the same old faces, Franzen, Mantel, Roth, and Will Self, who mostly reads like a random word generator, along with a crew of others. Could you imagine what porn would be like if it was only ever the same old people featured? Those that kicked off the once liberal porn movement in the 70’s and were now decrying digital. Folk in their late sixties grunting like a troll and so wrinkled you couldn’t tell what was testicle and what was face, all hunched over and support stockings. Porn, not that I am an avid fan, does have a policy of highlighting new young talent. And I can understand why. If for instance I made a sex tape now, it would be horrific, I’m almost forty four. I’m not saying I’m out of shape but me in my twenties would be more attractive and dynamic, now my gut would fall over my partner so that you couldn’t tell where on ended and the other began, like conjoined twins. My sex tape now would contain coughing, moans and two ugly messes violently slapping together, reminiscent of elephant seals mating on the shore of Alaska. However, young talent there is no doubt would look better. And there is plenty of young talent in literature. Mind you, those literary elite, I have it in my head they are freaks and in some Masonic sex cartel, you can bet they lie in a bath pissing on each other, Franzen wouldn’t be able to get hard so insists Mantel pisses on his face.
I’m not for one saying the legends aren’t important, but I don’t want to see the ever limited media space dedicated to what isn’t written when it could be a platform for what’s new and for voices that deserve the spotlight. The way this establishment go on about the same people reminds me of those people who believe the world was created in 7 days. I want to show them a fossil and say ‘fossil’ and if they keep talking about ‘seven days’, I’d beat them to death with it.

Also, there is this love for books that are difficult. Murkami’s IQ84 for example. People say “Oh, it’s hard going, it’s tough on you but afterwords it is worth it.” I don’t want to read a book that sounds like a course of chemotherapy. I recently tried to read IQ84, and I had to at one point check the page numbers, I thought the spine had broken and at one point all the pages fell out and were scooped back in in a random order. There is this strange desire to push books that are difficult, and people read them to say they’ve read them. It’s a bit like the salad that comes with the pizza, you didn’t order the salad, just that someone thinks you should eat it. I have no idea why Palahniuk doesn’t get more acclaim from the literary world, they keep pushing shit like Will Self on you. What I know for sure is, I love pizza and love my books like pizza. I’ve never fallen out of a club and said ‘Man, I could murder a salad’, I’ve never said while hungry ‘I neeeed salad?’ And if you order a salad at a restaurant, there isn’t a little pizza on the side. So I say to the literary world, stop forcing your salad on me… me and pizza want to be alone. I want books I enjoy, pizza books, I don’t want a book to be work, I’ve already got work.
I have no idea what I’m on about now…

The right to offend..

Posted: January 6, 2014 in Publishing

mefunnyI’ve been doing some readings lately, the favourite so far due to its intimate size being grit lit. Personally it has been so much fun offending people on an industrial scale again, and still amazes me how shocked and offended some people get when listening to Malice in Blunderland. I’ve also performed some readings of my new non-comedy ‘Remember to forget’ and while it seems to get a lot of love, I have been asked quite a bit “Why are you turning your back on comedy?”
Who the fuck said I was?

What strikes me as funny is those who bitch at the content of Malice are the first to bemoan its passing. When I do read ‘Malice’ I usually give a long disclaimer speech about how it isn’t me, it is fiction, and that there is a context that is lost when reading an excerpt, but man is it so much more fun to leave the warning out. It is like leading folk into battle, in that not everyone will be there in the end.
I think though, my favourite part of performing Malice is having to explain to those who appoint themselves as intellectuals that, well, if I need to de-construct the content, they can’t be that smart. I am all to aware that I’m not particularly smart and I think that pisses them off more. I had a guy who was offended at Malice, because he felt the part I read was homophobic, so he took his gay friend to another reading so he too could be offended and thus they can both complain. The piece I read is a bit where the protagonist picks up a girl who turns out to be a transvestite who subsequently tries to rape him.

I find your work homophobic and offensive, so I’ve brought my gay friend to hear it and he is offended too. I was wondering if you would want to apologise to him?” was the question I was presented. Bearing in mind I was sat in Brighton, the gay capital of England with a gay best friend and his gay mate.
“Oh, so, what about what I said, specifically, was homophobic?”
Well, the transvestite bit.”
“Okay, so what about it was homophobic?”
“All of it!”
“How so? What did I say that was anti-gay, or anti-transgendered or in any way hateful towards LGBT communities?”
Well, uh, well you didn’t show gay people in a positive light were you? It’s not like you were pro gay!”
“I didn’t show heterosexual people in a positive light either, does that mean I’m anti heterosexual too?”


The mad thing with what I do, if I was performing stand-up comedy, people would be able to separate artist from content, but as it is written and performed in fist person, it is assumed I am the devil. It crazy that the intellectuals cannot separate the two – and these are the ones to profess to be smart. Recently a guy who was offended by my book he sent it to a person who they know will be even more offended. Why? If they knew they would be offended, well then it wasn’t fucking for them was it? It is a fucked up logic, a sort of offence by proxy. If someone put pages of the porn magazine Playboy in the pages of children’s books in library’s, they wouldn’t sue Hugh Hefner would they?

At the reading, one read of murder, but that was okay, as it was art. Another of torture of a unfaithful husband, again, it is art because it isn’t funny. One was deeply sadist sex and – art. But make it funny, alter the context and it is offensive? I love my new book ‘Remember to Forget’ but I wonder if it will be as much fun at readings?

The Gay Agenda…

Posted: August 29, 2013 in Publishing

mefunnyWhat is it with the media and ant-gay groups describing gay marriage and the fight for equal rights as ‘The Gay Agenda’, as if every gay person throughout the world are networked and a threat like Al Qaeda for fucks sake. I am still at a loss with the right wing outrage toward gay marriage. There is a clue in the term equal rights, being ‘equal’ and ‘rights’ – I cannot respect anyone who doesn’t feel it just and fair that gay people should have every single right that I have. Yesterday this opinion cost me someone who I once considered a friend.

I have many gay friends. I have to say, of all my gay friends, they have the longest, most loving and most secure relationships I know. But being an idiot, I asked my mate ‘Gay Paul’ about the gay agenda:
“Paul,” I asked, “what is the gay agenda?”
“The what?”
“Agenda. What do you want?”
“To be able to meet someone, fall in love, get married, maybe get a better job to get a bigger house. Maybe start a family. That sort of thing.”
Holy fuck… that was my agenda too! Am I a gay?
What I do know for sure, and I mean 100% sure is there is NO gay agenda. Anyone who has a gay couple as friends will know this. You cannot get them to decide to do anything! If you agree to meet at 9am, they will be there by lunch and then endure many debates about where and what to do!

What exactly is there to fear for a people wanting such mundane and normal things as marriage? Once again, religion is a key part. I know I seem anti-religion, but the evidence some religious folk present for a narrow minded and hateful world view is irrefutable. My friend, or rather ex-friend believes gay people have a choice, as if they choose to be gay. Who in their right mind would choose to be mocked, ostracised, marginalised and refused the basic and fundamental human rights that everyone else takes for granted? Are these people fucking crazy? These people believe gay marriage is a fundamental risk to the sanctity that is marriage…
How for fucks sake? HOW?
I will tell you the biggest single risk to heterosexual marriage is children! I love my kids, but they break everything, and forget a sex life, let alone any other kind of life. I only had kids because I wanted to name something and couldn’t afford a boat. I’m 40 now, when I was younger I thought I’d have a red Ferrari and a black friend with a helicopter like Magnum Pi by now, but no. Kids ruined that dream. It the church wants to protect marriage – make children illegal. The church doesn’t like to admit it’s wrong, and lets just for a moment ignore the child abuse cover-ups, it wasn’t very long ago that the church wouldn’t let black people join them in prayer as they believed black people had no soul!
To be fair, the sanctity of marriage should be protected, it is a legally binding contract and recognised by God himself. The right for a wealthy drunk man to go to Vegas, pick up a stripper with more titties than teeth and get married by a sweaty fat Elvis. That should be protected. It’s pure and godly and just. God forbid two people who have been in love, built a home and paid taxes should want to enjoy such freedom. In America it’s in the constitution, it’s written down, marriage is between a man and a woman. Why? In case they forget?

There is a literary connection though. This whole argument happened because Dumbledoor from Harry Potter is Gay. Yes, I say that again, Dumbledoor is gay. J.K. Rowling released a press release to say as such. My friend said “I can’t believe Dumbledoor is gay!” and said he stopped liking Harry Potter and wouldn’t read it to his kids because of it. That boiled my piss!
“You can’t believe he is gay… but you can believe he is a wizard? Gay people actually exist you fucking moron!”
The friendship ended with me saying “Trust me, if there is a God, he absolutely has no problem with gay people any more than he does with heterosexual people, because by your own philosophy – he wouldn’t have invented them!”
“How dare you,” he said, “You have no right to speak for God.”
“Your right,” I said, “and I hope you remember that, as neither do you!”

The Evil scurge of the warm…

Posted: August 26, 2013 in Publishing

jonnySo, here in England, we are having a heat wave that is lasting for pretty much the whole summer. It is beautiful, you can go outside and actually move your fingers and toes. However all is not good in this fair land. It turns out, over 760 people have died because of the ongoing warm. WARM, not hot, but warm. How can you die of warm? Who doesn’t know how to get in the shade and open a window? I know a lot of these are the elderly, but to be fair, have you ever had an argument with an old person? The first thing they say is, 

“Yeah, well when you’ve been alive as long as I have you can say somthin sunny Jim, until then you shut your mouth!” All that wisdom they can’t open a window? Who doesn’t know how to waft a magazine in front of their face? I’m not trying to decry the tragedy of the deaths, but the news is reporting with glee ‘England is as hot as Greece’ – a pleasant holiday destination, not fucking death valley! Greece isn’t ‘dignitase’, we don’t go there to die.

It has been 32.2C (90F) and we cannot cope…
In Syria, refugees are walking twelve miles in 123F degree heat, to return with five litres of water on their head for their family. However here in England we can walk ten feet to a tap and turn it on! Fill the bath with cold water and get a supermarket to deliver some beer and bags of ice! And we are still dying of warm?
It is I think, a bit like when you read about people who die by getting hit by a train. How? Trains don’t exactly sneak up on you? And, if there is anything that is easy to avoid, it is a train! There is a track – just step to the left or right.

Where’s Jerry?”
“Oh, you didn’t hear? He got struck my a train!”
“Jezz, that crazy bastard!”

Better than:
“Where’s Jerry?”
“Uh, the warm killed him.”
Wha… warm? He couldn’t open a window?”
“The warm murdered him… warm singled him out”

I do though still wonder how some get killed by bees. Who are these people who when walking past a bush and it is buzzing, and goes “Is that bees? Are there bees in thee? I’m gonna beat it with a stick and find out!” THWACK “Argh – bees!”

Still bees is better than warm. Warm is like the guy who got killed by a beaver? How can you hear that and not laugh? Imagine at the wake and trying to not laugh?
I guarantee in a few months there will be non-stop rain, and subsequently floods. The people who complain about the warm will be the same ones who get caught out in the floods. These are the same people you see on TV being warned about the floods and say “You know what, I’m gonna front it out. It’s Gods will”. Days later you will see them on TV shovelling feet of silty mud out of their living room, saying,
Why has God done this to us? I don’t understand why… it happens every year!”
Because you live next to a fucking river, idiot! If you house is on a flood plain, there is a clue in the name!

Sadly, people will drown in these floods, when they could simply go upstairs. Our floods are not like the huge floods of Australia or Pakistan, we are talking a street. Much as we have warm, not heat, I think our floods should be called ‘damp’.
It does make me wonder, how exactly did England have the empire that it had? Once we fucked over and occupied India, Africa, America and the Middle East, all way hotter then grey dull England. How did we just not just die from the scurge of warm like the tripod thingys in War of the Worlds? I know this post is a bit morbid, but when yo consider 60,000,000 people die every year from starvation. We are lucky enough to get food and stuff it with food, put food on top of it and bake it, yet starvation isn’t a result of not being able to open a cupboard and make a sandwich. We can though, open a window, buy a fan, go to a swimming pool, go to an air conditioned building such as a library. But with all our modern convenience, we are dying of warm. In a few months we will be dying from ‘chilly’…