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Showing posts from April, 2014

Pork Chops and Promiscuity: A Tale of Lesbian Lust

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Judith was a lesbian. Only she didn't have short hair and she didn't wear wooden beads. Neither did she have a girlfriend with a moustache and legs like a Russian shot-putter. In fact, Judith didn't have a girlfriend at all; she preferred the anonymity of one-night stands with girls picked up in gay bars and communal changing rooms. Judith particularly liked the changing rooms at the exclusive gym she attended where all the tanned PR girls hung-out, stripped to the waist, chatting nonsensically about their executive boyfriends and the latest skincare products. Whilst the nubile objects of Judith’s affection compared the benefits of the latest three-for-the-price-of-two offers in Boots with make-up bags gifted with a purchase of two face creams in Debenhams, Judith would happily eye-up their scantily covered buttocks.
        Judith’s own choice of underwear was hipsters, as they flattered her slender hips but, as a voyeur, she preferred thongs. Often she would imagine ri…

Coming Up Next: Pork Chops and Promiscuity : A Tale of Lesbian Lust

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Tomorrow, I'm posting the opening story from my short story collectionA Modern Life.This is for you readers who haven't yet gone over to check out my masterpiece of English literature on Amazon. (Ho hum) At the moment, I have three-five star and one-three star review. And none of them are written by relatives! In fact I don't think any of my relatives have even bought it. I'm not sure what that means - maybe they think they are in it? Mr T is paranoid that he is  - to which I have to keep telling him:

"It's a work of fiction. F. I. C. T. I. O.N. You are not in it."
To be honest, I think the first story called Pork Chops and Promiscuity about a Jewish lesbian with a fetish for pork chops and young women (or indeed any woman) is a fairly good give-away to Mr T that he is not starring in it.
Not unless there's something about him that I don't know. Hmm...that's a worrying thought.
Bizarrely, I got nearly 1300 hits from Israel on my blog last week…

One of my worst experiences. Ever

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Yesterday, I had one of the worst experiences of my life. Late at night, I went out into the garden to secure the chicken hutch and was stopped in my tracks by a truly revolting noise. I'm not going to describe it as I don't want to upset you, dear readers. However, what I will say is - as a wife and mother of three boys, I have heard some pretty gruesome noises including:

1. High-octane exploding bowels.  This wasafter about a month of constipation when I doubled-dosed one of the young masters on constipation-relief medicine. The memory of this sound and the picturesque splattering adorning the bath (the toilet was too small to accommodate the outpourings) will stay with me forever.

2. Severe nauseating and overpowering flatulence.  After the consumption of burnt beef curry by someone who is not me and not my children. (Work it out.)

3. The screams of childbirth. These were not my own which would have been preferable. After having spent 24 hours in labour, I was wheeled to th…

I must be more disciplined!

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Oh God, things are spiralling out of control in my study again. How do I be more disciplined?

How, dear readers, how?

It's not that my mess really bothers me as I've an ability to "zone-out" from it which I'm putting down to my creative mind. Mr T, however, puts it down to some other aspects of my character. (None of which are repeatable on this blog.)  Nevertheless, despite Mr T's slur upon my character, I am a good wife and I can't help being worried about the effect it is is having on him. Lately, every time he comes into my study (which fortunately is not often) he has started gagging. In fact, the last time he ventured forth when he started to gag I immediately ran to help the boys check the insurance certificate.

But, it's true, I could do with being a lot more disciplined. I would be far more productive as a writer if I could be more organised. Other writers are knocking out self-help manuals and novels at the rate of about three a year - at th…

Breaking News On The London Book Fair

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There were no literary agents under thirty-five without waistcoats at The London Book Fair.

There were no publishers under thirty-five without waistcoats and glasses at The London Book Fair.

There was a very dishy science-fiction writer (closer to forty though) without a waistcoat and glasses with whom I had a very nice chat. (Which luckily didn't involve any techno-babble about space ships and fantasy worlds - otherwise I would have shot him.)

However, stupidly, I forgot to get his name.

So Mr T is safe again. No doubt he is counting his blessings.

Okay, I am just joking about the waistcoats. Literary agents don't always wear them. Just some of the time. It's called style.

Apparently.


School Holidays 2 and the London Book Fair

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Mrs T:   Master Jacob, would you please unload the dishwasher and tidy the kitchen whilst I'm out?

Master Jacob:   What is this? Nazis Germany?

Where have I gone wrong, readers? Where?

On another matter entirely, I have a ticket to go to the London Book Fair and if I feel it's safe to leave the Young Masters with an unstacked dishwasher I may leave them to their own devices. I may not have a home to come back to but it may be a risk worth taking.

Now I have decided that, if I get off my sorry arse, and go to the Book Fair later today I shall keep my eye out for:

1) A healthy young male (heterosexual) literary agent, preferably under 35, with a sense of humour. It would also be an advantage if he did not wear a chequered waistcoat.

Okay that's not going to happen.

2) A healthy young male (heterosexual) publisher, preferably under 35, with a sense of humour who does not wear a chequered waistcoat and glasses.

Hmm...even more unlikely.

3) A healthy young male (heterosexual) aut…

The School Holidays

There are some pretty diabolical things about the school holidays. However, there is one good thing and this next sentence sums it up:

I am going back to bed.

Bliss. Wake me up in a couple of hours.

Morgan Freeman and Liam Neeson give directions.

You have to watch the video below right to the very end, especially if you're a film buff like me. It's one of the funniest things I've seen for ages! Thanks to author, Karen Wyld, for pointing me in the right direction. I have a lot of trouble with sat navs myself - although this doesn't involve Morgan Freeman talking to me, only me talking to myself. Sad, I know.


Farewell My Young Apprentice!

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Sadly, yesterday, I had to say goodbye to my young apprentice. Early readers of this blog will recall my adventures with him and will, no doubt, also be traumatised by this sad, sad news. As you would expect, I waved goodbye, tears running down my face, as my young apprentice made his way down the driveway. As he disappeared, I was choked with emotion, knowing I would never see him again.

I know you readers will share with me my overwhelming sadness, so I've decided to share with you my last keepsake photo of dear Luke Warmwater.



Yes, so there you have it. Luke Warmwater has finally passed to the great force in the sky. He has been replaced by a more more advanced model which I am calling The Emperor. I am a tad nervous about sitting on The Emperor as he spins at 1600mph which could be a little...vigorous. However, The Emperor also holds 9kg of washing, as opposed to LukeWarmwater's paltry 7kg, which to my mind makes him a force to be reckoned with.



Is Amazon the new Big Brother?

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Forget the NSA, forget MI5, the people really watching you are the men behind the desks at Amazon.

I swear to God Amazon knows everything about me and, since I've ordered shoes and clothes through them, those grey suits also know my foot and dress size and could probably even make a guess at the size of my botty.

They've also got a huge list of everything I've ever purchased, an even bigger list of anything I've ever looked at and, worryingly, a record of all the books on my Kindle.

Which may or may not be embarrassing.

*Whistles nonchalantly*

Now, as if this scrutiny isn't enough, I've noticed that lately Amazon has been sending me suggestions for items to purchase which don't have a lot of relation to what I've been looking for.

What's that about?

I've been thinking about it and come to the conclusion that it's almost as if someone at Amazon is deliberately trying to provoke poor Mrs T into one of her full-scale rants.

For example, if you …

It's April Fool's Day Today Soooooo.....

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I thought why not just post a piccy of myself!