Born to extremely violent alcoholic parents, from the age of 10 I worked till 12am peeling potatoes for chip shops to help pay the bills. Walking home by 12.30am, to be up at 6am and endure a 30 minute walk to catch a coach for an hour long drive to a school. Life was shit back then. I write a fair bit about violence due it being more common than meals, getting the shit kicked out of me by both parents and an older brother, at least we had some family time. In and out of care, exhausted from working and beatings, I was placed in a ‘remedial’ classes at school because they thought I was learning disabled. At 11 my class mates were Danny, a 22 year old guy with Down’s syndrome, and an angry girl called Emily, who rubbed her shit in her hair.

I ran away at 14. I lived by breaking into caravans and various other petty crimes to fund food. You couldn’t get ‘No fixed Address’ benefit until the age of 16, so for two years crime was the only alternative. I have lived in squats in big cities and in rural areas, with crack heads and all number of low life’s.
Further life choices of the bad kind, had me involved with a crime syndicate. Needless to say failed at being a criminal, ending up in prison by 18.
I learned to read and write in properly in prison though I could kind of manage a bit before then.

Malice in Blunderland was written because of a year por surf. Instead of getting up early and surfing every day, on the days there were no waves I hit the keyboard. Writing has always felt a kind of Catharsis, but laughing was, and still is free. Seeing the twisted humor in things is what helps us survive.


Should you want to contact me, pay the ransom for your children or leave a review (that will be amended to 5 stars without your permission) my email is here:


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