I wrote a book

Writing a book is a journey – a seemingly never ending journey. It’s been five years so far, one way or another. Mind you, I did get distracted by life along they way – which is just as it should be.

So to celebrate I made a video. Get me, a video!


Available on Amazon as a paperback, or ebook.

Please send help!

I know I should write something, but my head is empty and I just can’t. It’s not writer’s block, my head is literally empty. I can’t find my brain. I took it out to rest it and I can’t find it. My brain has been super busy recently and I thought it deserved a day off. So we had a chat this morning and my brain said, sure, I’m tired, but I’m here for you if you need me obvs, you can count on me. But if you are happy, then a day on the sofa watching TV would be bloody perfect. I’m really tired.

I see myself as a leader of men, a person with supreme, almost existential management skills. I looked at my brain and I knew it needed some R&R. And what do great leaders do? They look after the humble foot soldier.

So I popped him out, plumped a few cushions and plopped him on the sofa and headed to the kitchen to pop the kettle on. I’ve been here for eight and a half hours. I have no idea why I’m standing in front of the sink with a steel container in my hand. My arm aches. I’m thirsty. My head is empty.

Please, if you read this, call the emergency services and send help. I’m in a kitchen, that’s all I know. 


First things first, I just wanted to say hi to my many Australian friends. It would be entirely crass of me to bring this up now, just a day after the cricket World Cup semi-final – and I’m not crass like that. I just really love you all and wanted to say ‘hi’ and to wish you a great weekend.

Right, next. I don’t know if any of you watched the cricket World Cup semi-final, England against Australia – but wow, what a game. I’m an absolute neutral when it comes to these things of course. Ultimately, sadly, it’s really just a game of grown up boys hurling balls at each other in the end – it seems almost churlish to mention it. It’s of little or no importance. So why, you may well ask, do I bring it up now? Well, let me tell you.

Australia is a wonderful country full of great people, nearly all of whom are actual friends of mine, and because I’m one of those guys who literally sweats empathy (as my neighbours will testify to), yesterday hurt. Yesterday I oozed, gushed hormones for you. As many of you won’t know, Australia is an anagram of Raul Tasia, the legendary Spanish conquistador who discovered this great continent in 1974. Before ‘74 it was just a huge scientific experiment in some far away oceanic backwater, with a penchant for opera. But once Raul imposed his iron grip on the indigenous Greeks, everything changed. Gone were the heady days of sopranos in lederhosen, ‘in’ came budgie smugglers and dunny’s.

It wasn’t long before the immigrant population took up playing a little known native sport called, ‘crikeeeeet’ – as it is pronounced. This involves wearing a canary suit with a green hat, and trying to hit a Kangaroos testicle with a squid. And they took to it like ducks come with orange sauce. In no time at all, they were the equal of the Poms, a small but powerful island state thousands of miles north’ish.

And then tragically, in 1987, their great leader Raul, in the throes of something never officially confirmed, designated the 25th of February each year, a national holiday, to become known, from then on, as the ‘Mardi Gras’ which sounds like ‘La-di-da’ to me but isn’t – and sopranos singing in lederhosens were back. Big time. If one could chart the decline of crikeeeet in this once great experiment, it began then, in 1987, with the La-di-da.

And so what, if anything can we learn from this?


It’s Official – I’m a huge success

I was just looking through the BBC News website, because I’m easily distracted like that, and I came across an article titled ‘IS LITERARY FAILURE THE NEW SUCCESS?’ and I screamed “hell, yes”.

And in that moment of reading I went from being quite literally nothing, to becoming Joseph Heller. If for one moment we can entertain the following concept; that a country’s status is inversely proportional to the length of its national anthem, then it’s clear the same must apply to success and failure. Or to put it another way, the bigger the failure I am, the greater the success I have become.

I’d like to point out that I am humble about this and I will remain completely unchanged by fame. You will obviously feel a frisson of something intangible when you read my blogs now, and I understand that, but to me, you are still just you. And I will still be me; intelligent, kind, human, dignified, tall… immensely modest.

It will be nice to lay my weary head upon my silk monogrammed pillow tonight, and enjoy such sweet dreams as my success shall bring. I hope the maid has turned down my George Hepplewhite four poster just so.

Stranger Things

It’s Monday morning. I woke (something for which I am always grateful), to warm sunshine and a thirst for a cup of tea. Sifting through my emails, I discover I have been followed. Overnight. By people. Stranger things have happened. Last night I started watching the new series of Stranger Things, and it no longer seems strange that things are happening. Not strange at all.

Furthermore, and I say with emphasis, further stranger, nay stranger than that, things have happened this morning. A friend from the US emailed to apologise for not writing sooner, because, get this, strange things had been happening. In her small east coast American community. Strange things had been happening to cars, and now her home had become infested by ants. Weird. In her words – “I had a strange few days… It was a strange and unsettling week.”

I replied thus: Do you have an evil government created jelly fish octopus monster with face sucking powers, living in a dark network of tunnels under your town? Do you? Because though I’m no expert, I wouldn’t be sleeping on top of the covers, or dangling an errant leg over the side of the bed for a while – because of the body snatchers. Just saying.

They say that life imitates art, well not in this day and age, it seems strangely to imitate Netflix. 

Tuesday – I’m hoping to wake, as per… but to no strangeness. Not at all. I’ll keep you informed.