Lithuanians and other bogeymen (2009)

lith flash

While desperately searching various drives for my old short stories but finding only corrupted files I came across an old project report, (Back in 2009, Vilmantė, Sölvi, Dina and I produced a heartwarming wee Choose Your Own Adventure style Flash game about villains of the week, those dastardly Lithuanians, and that’s why there’s no such thing as racism anymore.)

It made me smile to remember a time when the knee-jerk armchair generals and vicious bigots of this country were all up in arms about ‘swarms’ from the east rather than the south-east.

The rhetoric may be saccharine and naive but I thought I’d share the report regardless. I’ve stripped most if not all of the business/marketing guff since I didn’t write it anyway; besides, no one visits this blog flushed with expectation for Target Group Analysis and User Scenarios, right?

If nothing else, it shows that you can get away with using colourful language like the S, F and N-words whilst trying to make some sort of sense of this shitty fucking world full of C-words. Continue reading “Lithuanians and other bogeymen (2009)”

Aarhus Games Aarhus Rules

Aarhus Games Aarhus Rules by David Rickerby
Artwork by Mattijs Sijtsema, edit by me, words by a goddamn bank robber.

David Rickerby’s Aarhus Games Aarhus Rules is available now in paperback. It is the sequel to his first novel Bloody Fields and the second part of a trilogy.

Further information and general mischief can be found on his Facebook page.

More Goddamn Books

amy sketch
The green is printing ‘bleed.’ I cut the title down from eleven words to three letters. Is that better? I don’t even know anymore. In fact I might not even care. I mean I probably do but I just feel homicidally bored, know what I mean?

Hey, remember me? Yeah, I’m that fat facetious piece of shit who once wrote popular articles, both of them around the starts of ’12 and ’13 (and by ‘popular’ I mean more than thirty Facebook likes; and by ‘articles’ I mean social media toss but who are you to judge—if you can bare to look at yourself in the mirror for long enough to brush your teeth without poking out one or both eyes with your Oral-B then you’re clearly delusional anyway and we have much in common so let’s continue, you daft twat.

Christ, I forgot, there was that one about the Pope as well. Some liked it, some prefer living out their life as an indentured servant to a make-believe tyrant and counter ferociously any attempt to make them, you know, read what even the Tory rags of this rag-tag island of toe-rag proles can hardly deny. Need a final clue? Really? It’s child rape, my dear, and I’m never playing charades with you at Christmas. Continue reading “More Goddamn Books”

Bloody Fields

Back in 2013 I wrote about my old comrade David Rickerby’s crowdsourcing campaign. Unfortunately, raising funds was the easy part and publishing his first novel seems to have been beset on most sides by shitweasels who overstated their worth then ran for the hills after making a pig’s ear of things. For crippling the copy, delaying the release and tormenting an old man, these blundering halfwits deserve an obscene amount of libellous character assassination.

Now’s not the time though. I mean when you’re a natural at something it doesn’t look like improvisation which is why I’ve never been much for premeditation when setting out to offend a whole bunch of people. That being said, there’s no harm in checking first how many of them will be falling over themselves to get me in a firm headlock and stab me in the eyes with their keys.

Anyway, this was supposed to be a celebration. The revised Bloody Fields is done and damn well dusted. Hip hip . . . !

Continue reading “Bloody Fields”

I’m not dead; but I was there

There's been nothing in a while but not because I died; I've been busy. The title was also a play on words to imply that I was dead THERE; because that's the crest on some Portsmouth street signs and I just got back.
There’s been nothing in a while but not because I died; I’ve been busy. The title was also a play on words to imply that I was dead THERE; because that’s the crest on some Portsmouth street signs and I just got back.

My closest friend is writing a book – and by closest I mean the one that is physically the furthest away – so I’m reading the drafts as he believes I’ll be cruel but constructive though unavoidably gushing in my feedback because he is obviously a far better writer than me.

I’ll get it set out in carbon for the tattooist but at the moment I’m still wrecking my idiot brain with the script I stupidly jumped at the opportunity to write, and by wrecking I mean coming off the codeine with Captain America and Valerian tea. Continue reading “I’m not dead; but I was there”

A rambling thesis on the sexual nature of the Danish, masquerading as a review of a Viking exhibition in Edinburgh

Mum at the Viking Ship Museum, Roskilde, Denmark, 2008. Red haired like Boudicca - perhaps from Celt ancestry, or a contribution from the strapping Norse rapists of more than a millennia ago
Mum at the Viking Ship Museum, Roskilde, Denmark, 2008. Red haired like Boudicca – a sign of Celt ancestry or a genetic contribution from the strapping Norse rapists of more than a millennia ago?

Vikings! is at the National Museum of Scotland, Edinburgh until the 12th May, 2013. £9 for adults and less if you’re not one of them; free for members or those that cannily held on to the tickets my ex left behind.

There is an Anglo-Saxon grave marker at a Christian Monastery on the island of Lindisfarne, North East England. It depicts warriors who were undoubtedly Viking raiders carrying out their first recorded raid on our green and pleasant land in AD 793. The following year is recorded in the Annals of Ulster as: “a laying waste by the heathen of all the islands of Britain.” Continue reading “A rambling thesis on the sexual nature of the Danish, masquerading as a review of a Viking exhibition in Edinburgh”

The love of my life; with name-dropping of philosophers, fugitive policemen and others

The signs in my kitchen have long needed a reason to be shared. As for Katharina, I've not met her; she could still be here among my fellow poltergeists or perhaps the mice have carried her off. Shame - we might have had something.
The signs in my kitchen have long needed a reason to be shared. As for Katharina, I’ve not met her; she could still be here among my fellow poltergeists or perhaps the mice have carried her off. Shame – we might have had something.

Childless women in their thirties staying in bed until the mid-afternoon, reading their first book by Schopenhauer, Seneca or Montaigne – contemplating the apathy with which they regard their own mortality over the first gin of the afternoon and rubbing one out before the news kills the passion – these are the kinds of women you don’t seem to meet dating online.

I just read the manifesto of the vengeful L.A. Cop-Killing Killer-Cop who is currently running rings around his former colleagues after swearing to take the corrupt all to hell with their loved ones for a lack of honour, honesty and common decency. Continue reading “The love of my life; with name-dropping of philosophers, fugitive policemen and others”

Safe. Secure. Reasonable. Informed: Coming off Sertraline

DISCLAIMER: The following post took place over the course of several days of teeth gnashing. Its contents are intended for my own amusement only. Any medical advice adhered to that results in your own suicide and/or the murders of your loved ones in the most bloodthirsty and inhumane way conceivable is neither my responsibility nor anyone else’s, you fiend.

Bruce Wayne had other rather more exotic coping mechanisms than psychotherapy.
Bruce Wayne had other rather more exotic coping mechanisms than psychotropic medication. He also had Vicki Vale and the Batcave.

If you get treated like a patient, you’re apt to act like one.

– Frances Farmer

So I made up my mind and will not be going back to Teesside, nor will I complete the year. From here on in, this guff comes straight from the heart.

I’m going to mention mental health now but I promise I will touch upon it as briefly as I’m able; then we can get back to talking zoo animals, gig reviews and reasons why the white man will be the death of us all. Continue reading “Safe. Secure. Reasonable. Informed: Coming off Sertraline”

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