tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29329949861834553782024-03-13T03:34:10.523-07:00The Not So Private Blog of Ben DavisBenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-36690350542377442642019-09-01T03:21:00.002-07:002019-09-01T03:21:46.397-07:00Attack of the Zilgrids: An Ultra Boy and Wonder Dog Story. The Power Ship juddered as another Zilgrid Death Ray smashed into its wing.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘We’re losing power,’ cried Anti-Matter Kid, pounding the console.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ultra Boy wrenched the rudder to the left, narrowly avoiding another barrage from the Zilgrid vessel. ‘We might be losing power, but we’ll never lose faith, will we Wonder Dog?<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Wonder Dog, resplendent in his space suit, yipped his assent before pressing the fire button, sending a missile crashing into the heart of the enemy ship.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘Good shot, boy!’ said Ultra Boy.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>All three members of the Intergalactic Power Squad were close, but Ultra Boy and Wonder Dog had a special bond. They grew up together on the planet Jinx and hadn't spent a single day apart. They had a telepathic understanding; each of them knowing what move the other was going to make.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The Zilgrids were far from the first hostile force they had encountered since they began their intergalactic adventures, but they were certainly one of the toughest. Their Death Rays were incredibly difficult to outmanoeuvre and caused more damage than the Power Ship had sustained in years.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘I guess this is why they don't call them Snuggly Cuddle Rays,’ says Anti-Matter Kid, as another one took off a chunk of the fuselage.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The communications screen sputtered into life and Duke Zilgrid appeared, an enormous grin stretched across his head, which was the exact size and colour of a watermelon.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘We've got you now, Intergalactic Power Squad,’ he cackled. ‘Prepare to be boarded.’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ultra Boy’s heart pounded. No. The Power Ship was sacrosanct. It had never been invaded by enemy forces. It was their safe space. ‘Oh no you don't,’ he said. ‘Anti-Matter Kid, engage shields.’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Anti-Matter Kid shook his head frantically. ‘It’s no good. That last hit took them out.’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Duke Zilgrid laughed again, this time louder. ‘There's no point fighting it. We're coming aboard.’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Before they could do anything to stop it, the air behind them fizzed blue until it formed two shapes, which were unmistakably Zilgrid; hefty and thick. When they came into focus, Ultra Boy recognised them instantly. It was Ethanium and Tyleriak Zilgrid; two of the galaxy’s most wanted criminals. They had been terrorising every planet they could get into and showed no sign of slowing down.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘Nice ship, freakazoids,’ Tyleriak sneered. ‘I've been in better smelling toilets than this.’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ethanium grunted with laughter and slapped his grotesque brother on the back. ‘Good one, mate.’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ultra Boy sprang to his feet and pointed his Ultra Ray Gun at them. ‘I order you to leave this ship immediately.’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The Zilgrids chuckled, and Ethanium held up one of his calloused hands. The gun vibrated and Ultra Boy watched with a mixture of horror and amazement as the power dropped to zero.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘How did you do that?’ Ultra Boy whispered.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘How did you do that?’ Ethanium and Tyleriak mimicked him in high-pitched voices.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Wonder Dog growled ominously as they approached, but didn't attack. He knew they were too powerful.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘What do you want?’ said Ultra Boy.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ethanium and Tyleriak sniggered at each other as they made their way to the comms screen and faced then.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘We want him,’ said Ethanium, pointing at Anti-Matter Kid with a thick, green finger.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> ‘Why do you want Anti-Matter Kid?’ Ultra Boy asked.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘We think he'd be a good addition to our team,’ said Tyleriak. ‘He might not look like a Zilgrid, but we're pretty sure he's one of us, deep down.’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ultra Boy laughed. ‘Well that's all very nice, but you're not having him. Isn't that right, Anti-Matter Kid?’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>No answer.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘Anti-Matter Kid?’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ultra Boy turned to look at his friend and couldn't believe what he was seeing. Anti-Matter Kid was staring at the two invaders intently, and not with hatred, but with something that might have been admiration.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ultra Boy went to walk over to his friend, but Tyleriak unholstered his own ray gun and pointed it at him. Ultra Boy knew there must have been Death Rays in there. One blast from that gun would be enough to squelch him into strawberry jam. He held up his hands to show he wasn't trying anything funny and leaned closer to Anti-Matter Kid.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘You don't believe what they're saying, do you?’ he said to him.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Anti-Matter Kid wouldn't take his eyes off them. It was as if he was hypnotised. ‘I don't know,’ he said, his voice quiet and faraway. ‘Maybe they've got a point.’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘Are you crazy?’ Ultra Boy cried. ‘They're space pirates! Criminals! That's not you. You belong with me and Wonder Dog. Just like it's always been!’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Anti-Matter Kid looked at his old friend for the first time, but his eyes were still blank.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘Things have changed,’ he said, robotically. ‘Deep down, I'm a Zilgrid.’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tyleriak and Ethanium belly-bumped each other and laughed their piggy chuckles. ‘Told you we'd get him,’ Ethanium said.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘Listen to me, Anti-Matter Kid,’ I said. ‘Remember all the good times we had! The three of us are a team. If one leaves, it will fall apart.’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Anti-Matter Kid slowly turned away and focused on the Zilgrid brothers again. ‘I'm ready to go, now,’ he said, flatly.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Wonder Dog, sensing something was wrong, ran up to Anti-Matter Kid and jumped up, nudging his hand with his nose, but it was as if he wasn't there.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘Here we go,’ said Tyleriak, pulling a transporter out of his pocket and throwing it on the floor between them, where it glowed white hot.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Anti-Matter Kid walked towards the transporter without looking back. Ultra Boy desperately tried to grab him, but it was too late. With a flash of light, he was gone. Without considering his safety, Ultra Boy dived at Ethanium and Tyleriak but they were gone, too, leaving nothing but their swampy smell.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The Zilgrid ship moved away at warp speed. Ultra Boy and Wonder Dog jumped to the controls but the ship was too damaged to give chase.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘I'm sure someone will be along to help us soon,’ said Ultra Boy, but the vast lonely blackness outside showed no signs of life.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Wonder Dog hopped over to Ultra Boy’s Seat and snuggled in his lap. ‘At least we have each other,’ said Ultra Boy, his voice tight in his throat.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The ship pitched uneasily and Anti-Matter Kid’s empty seat gently spun, before creaking to a stop.<br />
<br />Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-13429905645761416542018-01-07T13:38:00.001-08:002018-01-07T13:38:34.101-08:00The Awesomest Kids of All Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Only a few people ever achieve Awesomeness. And most of those few achieve it later in life, after years of trial and error. A tiny percentage, though, and I’m talking like 0.0000000001% are born Awesome. This post is about them - people that achieved great things before they were old enough to celebrate with a glass of wine.<br />
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My latest book, Make Me Awesome is about Freddie; a kid who, for all his positive attributes, was not born Awesome but tries his damnedest to achieve it. He signs up to dodgy life coach Chuck Willard’s Complete Road to Awesomeness Program, but he doesn’t need to bother. He could just take inspiration from these Awesome kids.<br />
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<b>Gabrielle Turnquest</b><br />
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Imagine being the cleverest kid in school. Now imagine being so clever, you start studying for a degree when you’re fourteen and graduate when you’re sixteen. Sounds mad, right? But that’s exactly what Garbrielle Turnquest did. And there was me thinking I was a big deal for drawing the best picture of a horsey.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was the best day of Year Ten.</td></tr>
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And that’s not the end of it. After she finished her degree, she went to law school and at eighteen, became the UK’s youngest barrister in six hundred years. When I was eighteen, I was working in an Argos and holding ‘Who can burp the longest competitions’ with my best friend Barry. I mean, yeah I won, but it’s not exactly a law degree, is it? Now I think about it, I should probably take the certificate down.<br />
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<b>Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart</b><br />
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Now, I’m not exactly a cultured person. I mean, I always get Mozart and Beethoven mixed up.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzhLpyB0EEkhMitDSG82tdU7hkvYfn03PdiFyLxUnhNg5ozcmv-26JBil951wptHzIP2kqc_XjzPciJRWENdLaqJBXfA6TwHnqvSTfeOfIfHgQhho1m5b0FUCYkvGXMHjnnmwUsTMZrlQ/s1600/beet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzhLpyB0EEkhMitDSG82tdU7hkvYfn03PdiFyLxUnhNg5ozcmv-26JBil951wptHzIP2kqc_XjzPciJRWENdLaqJBXfA6TwHnqvSTfeOfIfHgQhho1m5b0FUCYkvGXMHjnnmwUsTMZrlQ/s320/beet.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't know why. Beethoven's a big, slobbery film dog.</td></tr>
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And I shouldn’t, because Mozart was pretty special in his own right. By the age of four, he had already mastered the piano and the violin <i>and</i> had composed his first concerto. That’s right, a concerto. I couldn’t even manage London’s Burning on the recorder when I was four. Come to think of it, I still can’t.<br />
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By the time he was six, he was playing for the Emperor, and at nine, he was in demand all over Europe. He was basically the Justin Bieber of his day. Only less annoying.<br />
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It’s often said that young Wolfgang was pushed to success by his father, also a keen musician. Which is pretty much the same as when you see Dads screaming at refs at football matches.<br />
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<b>Lil Poison</b><br />
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Do you like playing computer games? Do you find yourself gaming when you should be doing homework? Well what if I were to tell you that you can make it your JOB?<br />
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That’s exactly what Lil Poison (real name Victor De Leon III) did when he was just six years old. He became so good at Halo that a gaming league signed him up to be a professional gamer. He competed in worldwide tournaments, placing second out of 550 at the Halo 2 FFA tournament in 2003.<br />
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Now, I’m not much of a gamer, but it’s bad enough when some teenager whoops me at GTA, never mind a seven year old.<br />
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Lil Poison might seem like a strange choice for this list, but he’s as good a choice as anyone. Just because he’s not an academic or musical genius didn’t stop him from making his passion his job. And if that ain’t Awesome, I don’t know what is.<br />
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<b>Stevie Wonder</b><br />
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Now, you might know Stevie Wonder as a smiley old fella sitting behind a piano, but he has been in the game since he was knee high to a grasshopper, scoring his first number one hit aged thirteen in 1962. At that point, he’d already been signed to the legendary Motown records for two years, recording, touring and writing songs.<br />
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He began playing music at an early age, mastering the piano, harmonica and drums, as well as possessing one of the most recognisable voices in pop history. And he did it all despite losing his sight as a baby.<br />
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Stevie is Awesome because he overcame tremendous obstacles to become one of the greatest musicians ever. To quote Mr Wonder himself, ‘Just because a man lacks the use of his eyes doesn’t mean he lacks vision.’<br />
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<b>Malala Yousafzai</b><br />
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The story of Malala Yousafzai is one of the most inspirational you will ever hear. As a child, she was a tireless campaigner for the rights of girls and women in her native Swat Valley in Northern Pakistan. She kept an anonymous blog for the BBC, detailing life under the Taliban, who banned girls from attending school. When her identity was revealed, she began publicly advocating for female education and was awarded Pakistan’s National Youth Peace Prize.<br />
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However, the forces she was speaking out against were displeased, and sent death threats to Malala. When they didn’t stop her, a Taliban gunman boarded her bus and shot her, the bucket passing through head and neck.<br />
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Thankfully, after extensive medical treatments in both Pakistan and the UK, Malala made a full recovery and continued her fight for justice. In 2014, she became the youngest ever recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize and is currently studying Philosophy, Politics and Economics at Oxford University.<br />
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So there you have it, my list of Awesome Kids. I hope you enjoyed it. Now of course, the idea of this wasn’t to make you feel bad – I mean, I didn’t do anything close to what these guys achieved when I was a kid. Heck, I still haven’t. I just wanted to show that Awesomeness comes in all shapes and sizes, from being good at music, to computer games to standing up for what you believe in. You can even be Awesome just by petting a dog or helping an old lady across the road. Make sure you do that the right way round, though.<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Make-Me-Awesome-Ben-Davis/dp/0192747967/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Make Me Awesome is out now!</a><br />
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<br />Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-71939537419226569112016-08-13T05:15:00.002-07:002016-08-13T05:15:47.685-07:00Vlogging a Dead HorseWell hello there, you're looking remarkably well. Have you been working out? Me neither.<div>
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Anyway, the reason I'm writing this post is to tell you about a new thing I'm doing - Vlogging a Dead Horse - a new series on YouTube about writing, books and whatever else pops into my head. Plus, there'll be all kinds of other surprises and whatnot. </div>
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The first episode is up now and features a WORLD EXCLUSIVE Joe Cowley short story set before the first book. So what are you waiting for? Watch the thing so I can become one of those big time YouTubers like Zoeena or Danzig and Philbert.</div>
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Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-5866807737471622952016-08-03T13:52:00.000-07:002016-08-03T13:52:30.706-07:00My Embarrassing Dad's Gone Viral!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Greetings! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ben Davis here with a blog about my new book, My Embarrassing Dad's Gone Viral!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.4px;">It's the story of Nelson - a twelve year old boy whose mum disappears one day, leaving his dad to look after him and his five year old sister, Mary. After a search turns up no clues, Nelson thinks that the best way to get Mum back is to become a famous YouTuber and make enough money so that she'll want to return. However, that plan goes awry when Dad moves the family to the middle of nowhere and enforces a strict no computers or TV rule on them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.4px;">Despite that, Nelson continues to secretly make unsuccessful videos until one day, his Dad unwittingly becomes the star of the show and is catapulted to internet fame. Can Nelson get his mum back before his dad finds out just how famous he is? There's only one way to find out!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.4px;">I made a video about the book for my publisher's sales conference which you can view below:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.4px;">And to top it all off, MEDGV! has been named a 'Book We Like' by BookTrust (review <a href="http://www.booktrust.org.uk/books/view/35153" target="_blank">here</a>) as well as a Young Writers <a href="https://www.youngwriters.co.uk/recommended-reads-11-18.php?page_id=July%202016" target="_blank">Recommended Read</a> and a Bag of Booklists <a href="http://www.bagsofbooklists.com/books-month/" target="_blank">Book of the Month</a>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.4px;"><b>My Embarrassing Dad's Gone Viral! is out now from all the usual places.</b></span></span></div>
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Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-90149407265722108422016-07-21T09:20:00.001-07:002016-07-21T09:20:21.939-07:00Podcast Time!Hello blog people!<div><br></div><div>I was recently a guest on the marvellous ThankBookFor podcast. We talked about books, sharks and Marmite. It was loads of fun.</div><div><br></div><div>You can listen at ThankBookFor.com or via your preferred podcast-listening app.</div><div><br></div><div>Gensundheit!</div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-3919656969596025922016-04-18T09:02:00.002-07:002016-04-18T09:02:33.373-07:00Q&A VideoGood day! Here is my Q&A video for your perusal . . .<br />
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<br />Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-74160017511468370662016-04-05T12:37:00.003-07:002016-04-05T12:37:35.250-07:00Welcome to Cringefest video<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
Guten abend! To mark the publication of Welcome to Cringefest this week, I'm making an FAQ video. If you have a burning question about Joe Cowley, writing in general, or what my favourite crisp flavour is*, just write it as a comment, send a PM, or get in touch through my website and I will answer it in the video.</div>
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PLUS! Everyone who asks a question will be entered into a draw to win a signed copy of Welcome to Cringefest. A prize potentially worth hundreds of pence.</div>
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*Trick question. Twiglets</div>
Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-21431649316247165292016-03-28T01:43:00.000-07:002016-03-28T01:43:12.584-07:00Welcome to Cringefest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yes indeed, Joe is back!<br />
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Welcome to Cringefest picks up eight months after the end of Return of the Geek. Joe is still desperately sad at losing Natalie, the love of his life, and is determined to win her back.<br />
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Of course, because it's Joe, his attempts at talking to her only make things worse, and he is about to give up hope. That is, until he discovers a foolproof strategy, a plan that works in so many TV shows and films -<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Grand Gesture.</b></span><br />
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In case you're not familiar with Grand Gestures, here are some of the most common examples:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Last Minute Airport Dash!</td></tr>
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<br />And of course . . .<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Standing Outside Her Bedroom Window Like a Big Creepy Freak!</td></tr>
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<br />Now, you know what Joe is like and that attempting any of the above activities would be a very bad idea for him, but Joe isn't that clever. And with a VIP trip to Buzzfest, the greatest music festival ever, the opportunities for Grand Gestures (as well as pain, humiliation and degradation) are limitless.<div>
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<b>The Private Blog of Joe Cowley: Welcome to Cringefest is out on 7th April from all the usual places. Here is a video I made about it.</b></div>
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Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-39985753935407949092015-10-06T13:54:00.001-07:002015-10-06T13:54:27.284-07:00Competition timeGood day to you.<div><br></div><div>I am running a competition to win a siged book over at my Facebook page. Read all about it at the following link: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/bendavisauthor/posts/1892152304343905" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">https://www.facebook.com/bendavisauthor/posts/1892152304343905</a></div><div><br></div><div>Right, that'll be all.</div><div><br></div><div>As you were.</div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-43813671092562866372015-08-21T13:23:00.001-07:002015-08-21T13:23:16.462-07:00Joe Cowley 3 VideoHello!<br />
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This is a video I made for my publisher's sales conference. In it, I talk about The Private Blog of Joe Cowley: Welcome to Cringefest.<br />
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Apologies for my daft voice/face/dining room.Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-22791244093242048332015-06-28T16:03:00.003-07:002015-06-29T06:40:39.260-07:00Danny Dread<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Guten tag, mein damen und herren!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As promised, I am back with an all new blogola about an all new bookola.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes, it's Danny Dread - the tale of a innocent boy born into a family of evil geniuses. Here's the official blurb:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">You know how it is when your dad's an evil super villain? </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">OK, so maybe you don't, but Danny does. As heir to the Dread dynasty, he's expected to carry on the family business of kidnapping world leaders, maiming innocent bystanders, and brainwashing sharks. You know, general evil stuff. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">The problem is, achieving world domination isn't Danny's idea of fun. In fact, he'd much rather be saving the planet than enslaving it. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">But when Dad Dread hatches his most diabolical scheme yet, Danny realizes that to defeat evil, he's going to have to start thinking evil . . .</span></b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sounds exciting, right? Darn tooting, it does.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you're reading this as a Joe Cowley fan (does Joe have fans? If he does, what are they called? Cowleibers? No, that's terrible, forget I said anything) you will be pleased to know that there are some similarities between the two characters. They are both misfits and they both have embarrassing dads. They also both harbour ambitions to change and become more powerful.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Other than that, though, they are quite different. Even the way Danny Dread came about was unlike either of the Joe Cowley books. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The idea for Danny Dread was actually cooked up by my brilliant publisher, OUP - specifically, Commissioning Editor, Clare Whitston and Harriet Rogers, who did such a stellar job designing the first two Joe Cowleys. I am told they came up with it while playing table tennis. Anyway, they asked me if I would be interested in writing a story about a wannabe superhero born into a family of supervillains and it took me about a quarter of a millisecond to say yes. See, I've always been a big superhero fan. I remember this once, at a party, I ran around all night with the hood of my coat over my head, pretending to be Batman. What a twenty-seventh birthday that was.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was a new experience, writing to spec, but I enjoyed it immensely and had loads of fun crafting a big adventure story, complete with rockets and explosions and maniacal laughter.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The illustrations in Danny Dread are by the brilliant Stephanie Lidbetter. In fact, you can catch a sneaky glimpse of a few of them <a href="https://www.behance.net/gallery/23675041/DANNY-DREAD">here</a>. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's all from me, as always, if you'd like to get in touch, you can do so here, through my <a href="http://www.bendavisauthor.com/">website</a>, my <a href="http://www%2Cfacebook.com/bendavisauthor">Facebook page</a>, or by standing in front of the mirror at midnight and saying my name three times.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Danny Dread is out on the 6th August 2015 and is available to pre-order from all the usual places.</span></span>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-51243639814449609142015-06-17T13:49:00.000-07:002015-06-17T13:49:45.120-07:00Joe Cowley book news . . . Yes, it's the news literally six of you have been waiting for! I can now officially confirm that there will be a third instalment in the Joe Cowley saga. It is called <i>The Private Blog of Joe Cowley: Welcome to Cringefest. </i>It will be published by OUP in April 2016.<br />
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I won't say what it's about because that might spoil things for people who haven't got to the end of <i>Return of the Geek </i>yet. (You know the bit I mean, where Mad Morris is eaten by a dinosaur and we find out that Ad is actually a visitor from the planet Plunksplat.) All I will say for now is that it is a tale of love, music and portaloos.<br />
<br />
There will be more news to follow soon, including some more info about my upcoming book, Danny Dread. Until then, if you want to get in touch, you can do so here, or via <a href="http://www.bendavisauthor.com/contact.html">the contact box on my website.</a><br />
<br />
<br />Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-17820813251129476932015-03-03T14:12:00.000-08:002015-03-03T14:13:20.586-08:00The Private Blog of Joe Cowley: Return of the GeekHELLO!<br />
<br />
In less than a month, my second book comes out. It is called <i>The Private Blog of Joe Cowley: Return of the Geek</i>.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyc7YvSj9Z9k_D8vQkVvxbDPKa0U76lKc9E9RLwv2JEqeMAiQqUFbLHVCXChPq3WTPG1g4W51G0n9cGxICsoA88zN9gYmFCv_Nuwu4q3llOcovgBEjqk9YcieZwxLoMpAN_tO4EJ0DuE/s1600/gk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyc7YvSj9Z9k_D8vQkVvxbDPKa0U76lKc9E9RLwv2JEqeMAiQqUFbLHVCXChPq3WTPG1g4W51G0n9cGxICsoA88zN9gYmFCv_Nuwu4q3llOcovgBEjqk9YcieZwxLoMpAN_tO4EJ0DuE/s1600/gk.jpg" height="320" width="206" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pwetty cover.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
If you've read the first one, and if you haven't, what the HELL is your problem, man? Seriously. Get out. Go on. Out. You disgust me.<br />
<br />
Anyway, as I was saying, if you've read the first one, you may be pleased to know that all the original characters are back for this instalment. Characters like:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>JOE!</li>
<li>GAV!</li>
<li>NATALIE!</li>
<li>HARRY!</li>
<li>AD!</li>
<li>LISA!</li>
<li>JOE'S MUM!</li>
<li>AND HIS DAD!</li>
<li>SVETLANA!</li>
<li>JIM!</li>
<li>DORIS!</li>
<li>ADWINA!</li>
<li>GREENY!</li>
<li>MAD MORRIS!</li>
<li>MR BOOCOCK!</li>
<li>AD'S DAD WITH THE MEAT VAN!</li>
<li>THE PEOPLE THAT LIVE IN JOE'S BRAIN!</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br />
Plus, several new characters, including a dastardly villain called Seb.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The story revolves around Joe's efforts to impress his girlfriend's posh parents while at the same time trying to avoid getting caught up in Harry and Ad's disastrous attempt to win a DJ competition. Add a new set of braces and an overflowing underpants hamper into the mix and you know it is only a matter of time before Joe's life is thrown back into turmoil. Which is how we like it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>The Private Blog of Joe Cowley: Return of the Geek is available to pre-order from all the usual places.</b></div>
Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-72061216345742711952015-01-18T03:59:00.001-08:002015-01-18T03:59:52.043-08:00COMPETITION TIME!Greetings me dears,<br />
<br />
I have launched a new competition to win a super good prize.<br />
<br />
OK, maybe not super good.<br />
<br />
But it's a prize.<br />
<br />
That's the main thing.<br />
<br />
More info <a href="https://www.facebook.com/bendavisauthor/posts/1755888267970310">here</a>.<br />
<br />
To round things off, here is a picture of a dog recreating the Pixar logo.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjym8JHPVYq6tFNnYM03PdQrvO7hU4ZAyU6OTWVVqjFkS3yD4ejmMXAD9N5OSzVLk4qKoTQohc-nyEbXkyl-Z3VBhqhkhqb7HWo4abkjbmRw8B8g13iZiqUFtWww48naCDUD-LEjIGN8E/s1600/pix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjym8JHPVYq6tFNnYM03PdQrvO7hU4ZAyU6OTWVVqjFkS3yD4ejmMXAD9N5OSzVLk4qKoTQohc-nyEbXkyl-Z3VBhqhkhqb7HWo4abkjbmRw8B8g13iZiqUFtWww48naCDUD-LEjIGN8E/s1600/pix.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-54167677047174634602014-12-09T06:47:00.001-08:002014-12-09T06:47:51.909-08:00Update!<div class="MsoNormal">
Considering I’ve written two books in blog form, I’m pretty
bad at blogging. It has been months since I last wrote anything on here. I do
have genuine excuses – deadlines, dodgy health, Football Manager 2015, but the
time for excuses is over. It is time to blog.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I recently
visited Gosford Hill School where I am Patron of Reading. I met the Year Eight
boys’ book group. They had just read Joe Cowley and had loads of great questions for
me. I think they were slightly disappointed that the wee balloons bit wasn’t
based on a true story, though.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After that, I ran a writing workshop with a class of
Year Eight boys. We started off by writing ten word stories before expanding
them into longer ones. There were some excellent ideas and some quite frankly bizarre
ones. And this is from someone who recently gave some serious thought to writing
a story about a haunted settee.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway,
I had a fantastic time and I’m looking forward to reading some of the finished
stories that may come out of our session. And, if they go on to become best-selling
novels with block buster film adaptations, I will only ask for seventy per cent
of the profits. Pretty reasonable, I think.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, as
a Patron of Reading, it is only right that I should recommend some books. This year has been pretty full-on, so I haven’t read as much as I would have
liked, but I have still managed to read some brilliant books. Here are my five
recommended reads from 2014.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]--><b>Who Framed Klaris Cliff? By Nikki Sheehan.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Gripping thriller about imaginary friends
and shady government conspiracies. Has an ending that made me go ‘oooooh’ and I’m
not someone who goes ‘ooooooh’ willy nilly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]--><b>Pants are Everything by Mark Lowery.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Hilarious sequel to the equally brilliant Socks
are not Enough. It follows the misfortunes of Michael Swarbrick and his crazy
family, including his proud nudist Mum.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]--><b>Wonder by RJ Palacio.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
If you haven’t read Wonder already, get on
it. It is amazing. It is about a ten year old boy born with facial deformities
and his efforts to fit in at school. There must have been some dust in the room
when I was reading it though, because there was definitely something in my
eye.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]--><b>Butter by Erin Lange.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
One of the best books about bullying I have
ever read. It is at times hard to read because of the viciousness of the
bullies, but it is well worth sticking with to the end.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->5.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]--><b>In Bloom by Matthew Crow.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
In Bloom is the story of two teenage cancer
patients who meet and fall in love. Sound familiar? Well forget comparisons to the
Fault in Our Stars, because this book stands out on its own. Stirring,
heartbreaking and at times, laugh-out-loud hilarious, when I was reading it I
was both awestruck and riddled with jealousy over the fact that I will never
write anything this good. Well, except maybe that haunted settee story.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stick one of those on your Christmas list – I promise you
won’t regret it. Now, all there is left for me to do is to wish you a Merry Christmas
and a Happy New Year. To get you in that festive mood, I’m going to leave you
with my all time favourite Christmas song.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/H0ue3T0IZXQ?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seriously.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-85671123172934191912014-07-13T07:30:00.000-07:002014-07-14T03:06:47.456-07:00Patron of Reading<div class="MsoNormal">
Hello blog people!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sorry I haven’t updated in a while – I’ve had deadlines and
talks and the small matter of a Panini World Cup sticker album feud with my
so-called best friend, Fat Barry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway, now I’ve got five minutes, I’m going to blog about something
super important: reading.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.readingchristiannetwork.com/uploads/1/0/6/2/10627234/9129787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.readingchristiannetwork.com/uploads/1/0/6/2/10627234/9129787.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, not Reading, <i>reading</i>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reading is magic. It is the best thing you can do with your
brain. It sparks your imagination and has the power to change your life.<br />
<br />
When I was a kid, my favourite book was Matilda by Roald Dahl. It is
about a gifted young girl born into a horrible family. Eventually, she realises
she has the power of telekinesis – she can move things with her mind. I loved
it. Immediately after reading, I ran outside and tried to see if I had the
power, too. As soon as Jackson Thorax from the estate up the road went past me
doing a wheelie and didn’t fall off, I knew I didn’t. But you see, that is the
power of reading.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is for this reason that I was dead chuffed to have been
asked by Gosford Hill School near Oxford to be their Patron of Reading. My
brief is to help encourage the pupils there to read more and try my best to
promote it as the fun, magical activity we all know it is.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Luckily, the school is already doing an amazing job – the
Learning Centre is fantastic and crammed with every book you could
ever possibly want. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://events.whsmith.co.uk/siteimages/joeyLARGE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://events.whsmith.co.uk/siteimages/joeyLARGE.jpg" height="320" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Except this one.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the 25<sup>th</sup> June, I visited Gosford Hill and spoke
to a group of Year Nine pupils.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC5i_ww5zMEzRo9-ygFnnReTJBUvbr2epHKmx5KgaSDttgQpOMXUckG04pC7jF71cPpzGZb0bAo0X0607QNw_VYJvr_5W4vBAARxgsTw0Hhf9sMcT_jvhYk2VfHF1ahJmtvbhGDNI9-XI/s1600/P1080996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC5i_ww5zMEzRo9-ygFnnReTJBUvbr2epHKmx5KgaSDttgQpOMXUckG04pC7jF71cPpzGZb0bAo0X0607QNw_VYJvr_5W4vBAARxgsTw0Hhf9sMcT_jvhYk2VfHF1ahJmtvbhGDNI9-XI/s1600/P1080996.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You might say they look bored, but I'm going with 'entranced.'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p><br />
I spoke a little bit about how I became an author and about
stories in general. We even came up with our own story outline and had a bit of a joke competition.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb2Ncbmh492vPR_XucHjv_eiisx3_oXAfm1vW1YIE8F7mR1ReR10paBzCcz1FN-CtxtnHT-gjZMPDvr7kEM29di-c2bij8bhmW3Jf50lt86OGy60lg7xjRdGcA9Fdda7SITDC4sbt4aQ8/s1600/joke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb2Ncbmh492vPR_XucHjv_eiisx3_oXAfm1vW1YIE8F7mR1ReR10paBzCcz1FN-CtxtnHT-gjZMPDvr7kEM29di-c2bij8bhmW3Jf50lt86OGy60lg7xjRdGcA9Fdda7SITDC4sbt4aQ8/s1600/joke.jpg" height="320" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the winning entry. Unbelievable.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Also, Mrs Hedges, the Learning Centre Manager put
out free books that the students could take home and keep. BOOKS! FOR FREE! NOWT! I restrained
myself and didn’t nick any, you’ll be pleased to hear, but it was difficult.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also signed a few copies of my own book, but to be honest,
I’d have signed other books if they’d have wanted. I’ve been told I forge a
good Anthony Horowitz.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m looking forward to promoting reading more at Gosford
Hill and I’ll be following this post up with a list of my top summer reads.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://events.whsmith.co.uk/siteimages/joeyLARGE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://events.whsmith.co.uk/siteimages/joeyLARGE.jpg" height="320" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is not one of them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
If anyone from Gosford Hill is reading this, I’d be
interested to know what your recommended reads are. You can get in touch in the
comments here, at my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/bendavisauthor">Facebook page</a>, or at my <a href="http://bendavisauthor.com/">website</a>. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<b><u>Linkages</u></b><br />
<b><u><a href="http://www.patronofreading.co.uk/">Patron of Reading</a></u></b><br />
<b><a href="http://www.gosford-hill.oxon.sch.uk/">Gosford Hill School</a></b></div>
Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-5187641725734501072014-06-12T15:02:00.000-07:002014-06-12T15:05:21.253-07:00WORLD CUP!Hello football fans!<br />
<br />
Can you believe it has been four years since the last World Cup? I can, because they're always every four years. What a stupid thing to say.<br />
<br />
Anyway, as I am a top-notch football pundit, I have delivered my verdict on Roy Hodgkinson's 23 man squad. WARNING: Contains in-depth analysis - like a cross between Alan Hansen and Data from off of Star Trek.<br />
<br />
<br />
1. Joe Hart<br />
Joe Hart is the latest in a proud sporting dynasty, following in the footsteps of Bret, Owen and Jim "the Anvil" Neid. He has featured recently in advertisements for a well-known shampoo. His team mates mock him for this but are secretly envious of his shine and bounce.<br />
<br />
2. Glen Johnson<br />
Glen Johnson is England's right-back. This is very similar to what I put at the end of my letters to Barry Chuckle. Thus far, he never has.<br />
<br />
3. Leighton Baines<br />
Left-back. Also, a town near Milton Keynes.<br />
<br />
4. Steven Gerrard<br />
Has the smallest forehead of any England captain since Freddie "Tiny Brow" Basset in 1925.<br />
<br />
5. Gary Cahill<br />
Replacement for famous philanderer, John Terry.<br />
<br />
6. Phil Jagielka<br />
I saw him in a pub once. I kept shouting, 'I GOT THE MOVES LIKE JAGIELKA' at him. We both had a few good laughs about it, then he pummelled me until I haemorrhaged.<br />
<br />
7. Jack Wilshere<br />
People who criticise Wilshere for his poor fitness record should remember that considering his legs are made from newspaper and straw, he is actually doing OK.<br />
<br />
8. Frank Lampard<br />
The reason Lank Frampard points at the sky after he scores is because he wants to appease the rain gods.<br />
<br />
9. Daniel Sturridge<br />
His surname was invented for poets who had nothing to rhyme 'courage' with.<br />
<br />
10. Wayne Rooney<br />
FOOTBALL FACT: I have scored the same amount of World Cup goals as Wayne Rooney.<br />
<br />
11. Danny Welbeck<br />
Visually reminiscent of 7-Up mascot, Fido Dido.<br />
<br />
12. Chris Smalling<br />
Smalling was personally selected by former Man Utd boss, Sir Alex Ferguson to be a defender at Old Trafford. This hasn't quite panned out, but he has since flourished in the HR department.<br />
<br />
13. Ben Foster<br />
The best player. Us Bens have to stick together.<br />
<br />
14. Jordan Henderson<br />
Has a name like the hardest kid on the estate.<br />
<br />
15. Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain<br />
Has a name like the wimpiest kid on the estate.<br />
<br />
16. Phil Jones<br />
Have you seen the face on him? He looks like a constipated farmhand.<br />
<br />
17. James Milner<br />
Winner of 'Thickest Neck Award' at the last World Cup.<br />
<br />
18. Rickie Lambert<br />
Back in Sid Owen's Eastenders heyday, life was tough for this Liverpudlian striker.<br />
<br />
19. Raheem Sterling<br />
They all go on about how quick he is but whenever I bang on his front door, he takes ages to answer. Most of the time, he doesn't even bother.<br />
<br />
20. Adam Lallana<br />
The fact that fans don't chant his name to the tune of 'La Bamba' is everything that is wrong with this world.<br />
<br />
21. Ross Barkley<br />
Apparently, he was late for the team coach. I wouldn't have had that if I was Roy Hodgkinson. I'd have left him to make his own way and chucked his case into a puddle.<br />
<br />
22. Fraser Forster<br />
Fraser Forster found fifty five fingered ferrets farting furiously in his Ford Focus.<br />
<br />
23. Luke Shaw<br />
LUKE SHAW, GIVE EM HELL,<br />
DRIBBLING DOWN THE WING LIKE A BRILLIANT GAZELLE.<br />
LUKE SHAW, NA NA NA,<br />
DOO DOO DOOBY DOO.<br />
(1st draft of a new chant I'm working on.)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-23531270986475622222014-05-19T08:56:00.000-07:002014-05-19T09:01:25.083-07:00EXTRACT!GAH!<br />
<br />
Hello everybody. Sorry I haven't blogged for a while. It's not easy to fit it in when you're trying to respond to so many <strike>final demand letters</strike> messages from adoring fans.<br />
<br />
Anyway, as a special treat, I am publishing an extract from a story I'm writing. I am not in violation of any kind of contractual arrangement because I can't imagine anyone in their right mind wanting to publish this. It is the stupidest thing I have ever written. Which is probably why I'm enjoying it so much. It's working title is 'El Presidente.'<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Freddie sat at the dinner table with his parents and Tadge.
They were having chippy tea. Normally, Freddie would be delighted by this, but this
time, he hadn’t even touched his jumbo saveloy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Freddie,’
said Mum through a mouthful of doner meat. ‘I wish you wouldn’t keep secrets
from us.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘What
are you talking about?’ said Freddie as casually as he could, fully aware that
she could have been talking about one of about three hundred things.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She
swallowed and pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket. Straight
away, Freddie knew what it was.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Ohhhhhh,’
he dropped his head into his hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘What’s
the matter with you? This is something to be proud of!’ she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘What
you talking about?’ said Dad, mopping up curry sauce with a slice of bread and
butter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘How
did you find that, anyway?’ said Freddie. ‘I hid it under my bed! What were you
doing looking under my bed?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘For
what?’ said Dad. ‘What is it?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Well,
I saw a thing on the telly about these new drugs kids are taking and I wanted
to make sure you weren’t stashing any,’ she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Drugs?
What drugs?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Nothing
wrong with drugs,’ said Tadge. ‘I did a bit of the herb when I was your age and
it didn’t do me any harm.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everyone
turned and looked at him. He had mushy peas in his beard and his t-shirt said
‘I Shot Mr Burns.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I
haven’t got any drugs!’ I said. ‘You wouldn’t even let me have a Vicks inhaler
when I had a cold!’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Will
someone tell me what’s going on?’ said Dad.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I am
so proud of you, my boy,’ said Mum. ‘Shortlisted to paint a picture of the
Prime Minister!’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tadge
threw his scallop down in disgust. ‘No way, my man. Don’t do it. Don’t shill
for the Illuminati.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Nonsense,’
said Dad. ‘You’re proud to be British, and you should be proud to paint our
nation’s leader.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Yeah,
you should paint him,’ said Tadge. ‘With red paint . . . like the . . . blood
on his, you know, hands.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Go to
your room, Tadge,’ said Mum.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tadge
stomped off upstairs and slammed his bedroom door. He was forty-two.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘He
just needs a moment to calm down,’ said Mum. ‘And when he does, you should talk
to him. Tadge is a very talented artist.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I
don’t know about that,’ said Dad. ‘It’s that modern art rubbish. I’m not into
it. Remember when we visited that snooty place and they kicked me out just for
speaking the truth? I said ‘that’s not art, it’s a bed. That’s not art, it’s a
wardrobe.’ <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘We
were in Ikea,’ said Freddie. ‘You were making a scene.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Aaaaah,’
Dad waved him off. ‘I know good art when I see it, and what Tadge does ain’t
good art.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Well,
what is good art, dear?’ said Mum.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘You
know . . .’ he reached across and speared Freddie’s saveloy with his fork.
‘That painting of the dogs playing cards, the little boy having a wee,
Blackpool tower, that kind of thing.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Freddie
wondered how the hell he could have been named as one of the top Art students
in his year with the genes he inherited. Trouble was, now his parents knew,
there was no escaping it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He had
to think of something.<o:p></o:p></div>
Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-60317693660987946412014-04-13T07:58:00.001-07:002014-04-13T08:02:17.787-07:00The Private Blog of Joe Cowley Book Launch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Last night was the launch for my first book, the Private Blog of Joe Cowley. I'm not very good at parties. This once I organised a Jubilee street party in Venice. Everybody drowned.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I knew I couldn't let that happen again, so I was extra careful when picking a venue for the launch. Originally, I had intended to try and hold it in a book shop, but then I realised that the only book shop in town is the one in the church, and I don't think they'd really go for it.</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rloYhkkzpZDdFt3tcOxwEqPvBSwuFmUFFeqbpIIyGoIOMA-cmBrLGMzOf5PJeHRyOw9A8LRfYobO9JiENMDcEBvAIR4eS9n9esmm-8b1cpHc_4DFCw1_BjeoyYpaDAYfQKvZVi-ECks/s1600/Vicar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rloYhkkzpZDdFt3tcOxwEqPvBSwuFmUFFeqbpIIyGoIOMA-cmBrLGMzOf5PJeHRyOw9A8LRfYobO9JiENMDcEBvAIR4eS9n9esmm-8b1cpHc_4DFCw1_BjeoyYpaDAYfQKvZVi-ECks/s1600/Vicar.jpg" height="320" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I said PISS BALLOONS, Reverend. Come on, lighten up.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So in the end, I decided to have the launch party in my old school. After all, it did partially inspire the book. The only snag with that was, my old school was completely demolished three years ago. Luckily, they'd built a snazzy new one in its place, complete with function rooms and a bar, so we had it there. I'm pretty sure the bar is closed during school hours.<br />
<br />
Aaaanyway, much to my surprise, the launch went very well, thanks in no small part to my wife Hester organising the entire thing. If it was left to me, it would have been in a shed with a handful of party poppers. As it was, we had:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLT19AwPonDrPXQt0PC3rpA3G30ppBzRm8lCN3jd1rzE0IVamiOpfY1xhqxFwyhIjubb-Fr1fLzC40MkAc-YQlkXq_m18XGwbcdm2NOghgbJmc6EHucQJnN6Nz7AAtJjxVeP_P2KCDUbo/s1600/bunt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLT19AwPonDrPXQt0PC3rpA3G30ppBzRm8lCN3jd1rzE0IVamiOpfY1xhqxFwyhIjubb-Fr1fLzC40MkAc-YQlkXq_m18XGwbcdm2NOghgbJmc6EHucQJnN6Nz7AAtJjxVeP_P2KCDUbo/s1600/bunt.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BUNTING!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4kIvR4gIzx_miv7PRysicIf5CFJV6W1Xhw7zm4FxysMzZ0QxV77ntLWju0zOvvol0CyTg7M9C3_W98FoKmNgNp9IurFA0CmOZqN0R9TodgMiQutC0FWTSMHTvlV8QhqNq2G4kc9t2TE/s1600/IMG_1244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4kIvR4gIzx_miv7PRysicIf5CFJV6W1Xhw7zm4FxysMzZ0QxV77ntLWju0zOvvol0CyTg7M9C3_W98FoKmNgNp9IurFA0CmOZqN0R9TodgMiQutC0FWTSMHTvlV8QhqNq2G4kc9t2TE/s1600/IMG_1244.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BALLOONS!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkmCtYhHoM_WY6ZPTVTFbd8yoqT9NkByWA9bJscP2upIYEDXNaGPBLpGf4foNhWDdtUlr8rAOg7HedE9IppbPi2uw5X7n68Ga1e_Xb5Vp5n25TgVzO1-2CNohxdeWR1bvJ-S9VLxy4do/s1600/cakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkmCtYhHoM_WY6ZPTVTFbd8yoqT9NkByWA9bJscP2upIYEDXNaGPBLpGf4foNhWDdtUlr8rAOg7HedE9IppbPi2uw5X7n68Ga1e_Xb5Vp5n25TgVzO1-2CNohxdeWR1bvJ-S9VLxy4do/s1600/cakes.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CAKES!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIiV0_cEH6EIeLS0MbOs3154K49Doz5Er3vli86hTSArjmKQvTt0h9igdWEQCsM7QyaQQtnmMR0r64aU_hcU8U72blcsy-mwUfJ5gSP2h7HS39LCQC-uss-bBt2sDyWSZVgpslek2oVac/s1600/carrots.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CARROTS!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtjz4LzAlrkea4K9fPZ4puo-EYMYyMD94SI2xJBXJaODhfMzSHow9ffNGLcZmPxZVPygKm9tOYaERJxFObSmYaeup0shd-cME37hVt5cX59h9wjzMBu0p4omvcTBzhomrKojPhyphenhyphenujt6Es/s1600/board.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtjz4LzAlrkea4K9fPZ4puo-EYMYyMD94SI2xJBXJaODhfMzSHow9ffNGLcZmPxZVPygKm9tOYaERJxFObSmYaeup0shd-cME37hVt5cX59h9wjzMBu0p4omvcTBzhomrKojPhyphenhyphenujt6Es/s1600/board.jpg" height="320" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 'DRAW YOUR OWN DOODLES' BOARD!<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And most importantly . . .<br />
<div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi40vP8QpivRRYEDJ5Hv-PPJQulgCeVfNVYkEdzEs0TsXZkp8suvIvj794joIs39ec_EkJ0XrVmM6E6_nRr67asW_JjL2yIR-pcl6aJT6Se4dSOi5Cl93bWtyUUDxFkTPDNg4I5ZGA6mrc/s1600/people.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi40vP8QpivRRYEDJ5Hv-PPJQulgCeVfNVYkEdzEs0TsXZkp8suvIvj794joIs39ec_EkJ0XrVmM6E6_nRr67asW_JjL2yIR-pcl6aJT6Se4dSOi5Cl93bWtyUUDxFkTPDNg4I5ZGA6mrc/s1600/people.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PEOPLE!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Big thanks to everyone who came along. Hugs and kisses. x<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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<br />
With thanks to Julie Ellison for the cakes and Becky Clempson, Melanie Storer and Claire Jackson for the photos.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Sophocles, Kant, Schopenhauer, that old bloke off Gogglebox. These are the great thinkers of human history. Joe Cowley is not in their league, regardless of what he might tell you. </b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>To celebrate the publication of the first volume of his secret online missives, I sat down with Joe for an exclusive interview. I wanted to find out more about the boy behind the blog.</b></div>
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<b>I wish I hadn't bothered.</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HZyRNHXuwhckI7GF0Fc0vlR3t-w4hwosCdKO6Mwr2D9qUXnnFuLiEBxqa3RQj4-fhImwZJB487saZefmdSaafVhAJ8NA8lTNsbcUSYbjfrrwLMGeYim-QwN3QoBbuxg5hZR6GUPznPE/s1600/Joe+Cowley+face.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HZyRNHXuwhckI7GF0Fc0vlR3t-w4hwosCdKO6Mwr2D9qUXnnFuLiEBxqa3RQj4-fhImwZJB487saZefmdSaafVhAJ8NA8lTNsbcUSYbjfrrwLMGeYim-QwN3QoBbuxg5hZR6GUPznPE/s1600/Joe+Cowley+face.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b>Hello Joe. Thanks
for agreeing to do this interview.</b></div>
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Yeah. OK. Cheers. </div>
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Sorry, what’s this about again?</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Nothing much. I just
wanted to talk to you about your blog.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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My blog? I haven’t got a blog. You must be thinking of some
other person. Some blogger with the same name as me. </div>
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I mean, what is a blog anyway? My mate Ad thinks its
what happens when you eat loads of blue smarties and then go for a dump. </div>
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So, as I was saying, I haven’t got a blog.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Who told you about my blog?</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>That’s not important.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Yes it cocking well is. It’s supposed to be private. I bet
it was Gav. Sweet Jesus, that moron is determined to RUIN MY LIFE.</div>
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<b>Calm down, Joe.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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That’s it. I’m just going to have to leave the country. I
hear nice things about Estonia.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>It’s OK, you don’t
have to leave the country. Tell me, why did you start your blog?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I suppose I did it to try and sort my life out. I mean, I
just had so many bad things happen to me that I thought writing them down would help me make sense of them. And now it seems I have one more to add to the list.</div>
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<b>So you had a lot of problems?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Did I have a lot of problems? That’s like asking Counsellor
Troi if she has a lot of emphatic powers.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Um . . . does that
mean yes?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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You bet your stinking bum it does. I had so many problems, it
would have made Jay Z cack himself.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Can you be more
specific?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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About Jay Z cacking himself?</div>
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<b>No (takes a moment of
compose myself) I meant about the problems that led you to start your blog.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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All right. Try this on for size:</div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -18pt;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">My so-called best mates were trying to get me
killed in a bid to win £250 from </span><i style="text-indent: -18pt;">You’ve
Been Framed.</i></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -18pt;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">My arch-enemy Gav James’ campaign of terror
against me showed no signs of letting up.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -18pt;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">My parents got divorced.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -18pt;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">I threw up over Louise Bentley at the fair after
the waltzers made me nauseous.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -18pt;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">I gained the nickname ‘Puke Skywalker’ at school
for the above reason.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -18pt;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">The love of my life, Lisa Hall didn’t even know
I existed.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -18pt;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Even if she did, I couldn’t talk to her
without going all weird. This once, she asked me the time, and I replied
‘September.’</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -18pt;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">IT WAS APRIL!</span></li>
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<o:p> </o:p><b>That does sound like an awful lot to deal with. So, did
keeping the blog help you sort your life out at all?</b></div>
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Did
it hell. If anything, things got even more complicated.</div>
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<b>So why did you keep it up?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I don't know, really. I suppose I like to think that thousands of years from now, when humanity is
extinct and aliens come and look over the wreckage of our once-great
civilisation, they will find my blog and figure out why we were doomed as a
species.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>You sound like a very gloomy person, Joe.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Wouldn’t
you be, if you had my life?</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Well, probably.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Anyway,
enough about me. Who are you? Why are you asking me all these questions? Oh my
God, are <i>you</i> an alien?</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>*Facepalms* Yes, Joe. I’m an alien.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Ah,
brilliant. Can you take me back to your planet with you?</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>No. No I can’t.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
[Sighs]
Rejected again.<br />
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>The Private Blog of Joe Cowley is available to buy from the following retailers:</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Private-Blog-Joe-Cowley/dp/0192736752">Amazon</a></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;">
<a href="http://www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/products/ben+davis/the+private+blog+of+joe+cowley/9968574/">Waterstones</a></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;">
<a href="http://www.foyles.co.uk/witem/childrens/the-private-blog-of-joe-cowley,ben-davis-9780192736758">Foyles</a></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;">
<a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/Private-Blog-Joe-Cowley-Ben-Davis/9780192736758">The Book Depository</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.thegreatbritishbookshop.co.uk/book/ben-davis/the-private-blog-of-joe-cowley">The Great British Bookshop</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.hive.co.uk/book/the-private-blog-of-joe-cowley/18374111/">Hive</a></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>Just don't tell Joe.</b></div>
Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-18168747715663868522014-01-02T12:20:00.002-08:002014-01-02T12:26:27.262-08:00The Private Blog of Joe Cowley - Book trailerIn my day, there were only three things that had trailers - films, film stars and my uncle Cyril who used one to tow around his JESUS IS COMING advertising pyramid.<br />
<br />
Thing is, these days they're doing them for books, too, and my book is no exception. Now, in this trailer, I play three of the characters from the book. To begin with, I thought it was all a bit unseemly - a grown man pretending to be school kids, but then I watched the film Grease, and realised they're all about forty-five, so I'm probably OK.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOEpIxP3zUvQFAy7a8sJ4QdBEfwuKqPE_CQ3XGAkIXh5EbUR9KlWIn3-J9DwZ5-5rdkPv7yPeF0wwuwfE7e1sfRXapd5i5ye4dYc7GeXgqDVoVwC4n9KfUvZmOOLZZjrTlG5N6VtbBSIc/s1600/sonny.jpg.w180h218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOEpIxP3zUvQFAy7a8sJ4QdBEfwuKqPE_CQ3XGAkIXh5EbUR9KlWIn3-J9DwZ5-5rdkPv7yPeF0wwuwfE7e1sfRXapd5i5ye4dYc7GeXgqDVoVwC4n9KfUvZmOOLZZjrTlG5N6VtbBSIc/s1600/sonny.jpg.w180h218.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If I ever saw this man in a school, I would inform the police.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Anyway, I'll stop flapping my gums and show you the video. Hopefully, it will persuade you to buy the book. Or pay for me to have elocution lessons, either is good.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/51IT4tbQs10?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<br />
This trailer was produced by the marvellous MB Films. (http://www.mbfilms.co.uk)Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-731973153924302972013-12-03T15:43:00.000-08:002013-12-03T15:49:15.292-08:00Diary of a Private Detective. Part Three.<u><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Monday</span></b></u><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><u><br /></u>
There are three main parts of my job. Sleuthing, interrogating and surveillance. Yeah, it'd be snappier if I could think of another word for interrogating that begins with S, but come on, who am I? Some kinda word guy? Forget it. Maybe I should start slapping them while I interrogate, so it'll be 'sleuthing, slapping and surveillance?' Nah, I've already placed my business card order and Vistaprint ain't the kinda guys you want to jerk around.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Anyway, this is all a roundabout way of saying I've been doing some surveillance. On Fat Barry. I've been trying to catch him in the act of leaking secrets to Russia. As soon as I get enough evidence, BAM! I'm reporting him to MI5. Or I'm blackmailing him. Hey, a guy's gotta eat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">9.20 a.m.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Followed Fat Barry to work. Now I'm stalking the supermarket aisles watching him. I'm wearing a disguise (Brian Blessed mask and orange overalls) so as not to draw attention to myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">9.45 a.m.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Fat Barry is stacking milk cartons. Not even checking the use by date on them either. He doesn't care about us ingesting spoiled dairy. The commie bastard.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">11 a.m.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He's gone for a cigarette break and is on the phone. Sounds like it's Candy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">11.05 a.m.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FAT BARRY: I can't wait to see you again, baby . . . Scatino's at 8 . . . Lovely. See you then.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Scatino's at 8. I'm going to be there.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">8 p.m.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'm at Scatino's.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">8.15 p.m.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Fat Barry arrives first and orders bread and olives. That guy boils my potatoes. He hates our capitalist society but will eat our decadent olives. I'm so tore up I get lasagne down my Blessed beard.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">8.30 p.m.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Candy showed up soon after. If I wasn't so sure these two were just spies bent on destroying Western civilisation, I'd be wondering what the hell she sees in him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">8.35 p.m.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She's reached over and held his hand. She must be passing him a secret note. Time to pounce.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">9.30 p.m</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Having a nice evening, COMRADES?' I said as I sat at their table.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'What the hell, Brian Blessed?' said Fat Barry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I took my mask off. You should have seen the look he gave me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Who are you?' said Candy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She must have face blindness or something. Must be hard when you're a spy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Ben Davis - private detective,' I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She looked confused. 'Oh, you're the shoe guy.'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I rubbed my eyes. 'Yeah, I'm the shoe guy.'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'What do you want?' said Fat Barry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Nothing,' I said, making myself comfortable. 'Just thought I'd share some secrets with you.'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'What kind of secrets?' said Fat Barry. 'And can you take your feet off the table, please?'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I changed positions and took out my pad. I'd written, 'Pad of Secrets' on it to make it extra convincing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I cleared my throat and rattled them off:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The government are planning on taxing chickens. For every dozen eggs they lay, HMRC will take one. The eggs will be used to make a giant omelette for the Prime Minister.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The button that launches all our nukes is actually hidden in the self checkouts at ASDA.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">To join the SAS, you have to have a scrambled face and a deep voice.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Britain is planning on giving Gibraltar to Argentina, the Falklands to Spain and Northern Ireland to the winner of a phone-in.</span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Why are you telling us all this?' said Fat Barry. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Just thought I'd help you with your cause,' I said. 'If you know what I mean?'</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Fat Barry stared at me. He knew I was on to him. Then, he called the waiter and had him kick me out. As he was shoving me, I noticed his name tag. VLADIMIR.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We're through the looking glass, here. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Also, they threw me out before I could pay, so you know, there's that.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<br />Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-16826864973471176422013-11-27T12:17:00.001-08:002013-11-27T14:10:15.732-08:00Diary of a Private Detective. Part Two.<u><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>Sunday</b></span></u><br />
<div>
<u><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></u></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There was something about the way Fat Barry was acting that rubbed me up the wrong way. How he kept smiling and laughing. How he was always looking over at the bush outside the restaurant where I was hiding. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Yeah, that's right, I was sleuthing. I'm at my happiest when I sleuth. I get it from my Grandpa. He was a master sleuth. By trade, he was a milkman, but he used to sleuth in his spare time. He only stopped when my Grandma discovered him sleuthing through a skylight in the ladies' dressing room at the gym. I still miss the old crank. He was a proud guy right 'til the end. Fact is, he was so proud that he got on the wrong bus one day, but wouldn't admit his mistake and stayed on it for the rest of his life. In a way, I admired his moxy, but in another way, I kinda wish he hadn't blown all my inheritance on fares.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Anyway, back to the bush. This restaurant was a fancy place. I had no idea Fat Barry had the scratch to take a broad to a Sizzlin' pub. From what I can make out, they didn't even order from the 241 menu. I made a mental note to forget about paying him back that ten bucks I owe him. Guy's so flush he don't need it.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I watched through the window and tried to figure out what Candy and Fat Barry were saying. I had to use all the skills I gained at the Nobby Decker Academy of Lip Reading. Here's a choice snippet:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">CANDY: I wash filthy turnips.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FAT BARRY: Jason Orange is my homeboy.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I scratched my chin, which was a bad idea 'cause I'd just accidentally dipped my finger in a dog dook. Relax, It ain't the first time life has dealt me a crappy hand. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I wondered what the hell they were talking about. It just sounded like a load of nonsense to me.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">CANDY: Catflaps are so in right now.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FAT BARRY: My doctor recommended kicking sparrows to cure my sinusitis.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Then it came to me. It hit me like a rotten egg messing up my window on Halloween. They were spies! Russian spies! How else could you explain it?</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Attractive woman being seen with Fat Barry.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They speak in code.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Fat Barry is really secretive. Like, this once, he wouldn't even tell me his account number, sort code and mother's maiden name. Even though we are 'best friends.'</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That settled it. No further investigation needed. Fat Barry is working for Mother Russia. He's probably trying to find out official secrets to send back to Stalin or whoever the hell in charge there these days. No way. I'm telling him nothing. Nah, I won't tell him nothing. I've got a better idea.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You know what, my hand still stinks. That hand sanitizer I bought from the deaf kid at the grocery store sucks. </span></div>
Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-72269793557030036672013-11-22T11:01:00.001-08:002013-11-22T11:06:10.331-08:00Diary of a Private Detective<u><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>Friday</b></span></u><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><u><br /></u>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20.796875px;">History is dominated by ‘ifs’. If Archduke Franz Ferdinand had taken a different route home one afternoon, World War One wouldn’t have happened. If Alexander Fleming wasn’t a bit blasé about doing the dishes, there would be no penicillin. And if my mother hadn’t put my best white shirt in with her red slacks, the kids at school wouldn’t have called me ‘Pinky’. Life ain’t nothing but a crap shoot.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="line-height: 20.796875px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20.796875px;">It was by chance that a little twinky by the name of Candy Gable shimmied into my office this morning. Straight away, I knew this piece was bad news. I hadn't seen legs that long since I took that summer job as a giraffe podiatrist.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Oh, I'm sorry,' she said. 'I thought this was the shoe cobbler's.'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'It is, toots,' I said. 'I'll cobble your shoes, cut your keys, and, what the hell, I'll find someone who don't want to be found, you understand?'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She looked confused. 'So, can you fix my stiletto or not?'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I adjusted my fedora. Let me tell you, hat-wearing is no picnic when you got a head as big as mine. 'Sure thing.'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She leaned over my desk and placed the shoe down. 'The name's Gable,' she said. 'Candy Gable.'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'You name your shoes?' I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'My name is Candy Gable.'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So this chick named shoes after herself. I made a mental note to name my favourite shoe after myself as soon as I got home. You've got to keep up with trends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'I should have this done for you by tomorrow,' I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'm lying through my teeth. I got no clue about cobbling shoes, I just forgot to take the sign down when I moved into the office. There was something about this chick, though.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Look, I hate to be cheeky, but could you deliver this to my house?' She ran her hand through her blonde hair.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Now, I didn't roll outta my ma yesterday. I know when a chick is giving me the come-on. Just the other day, I could tell this broad was putting the make on me - the way she flicked her hair, the way she arched her back, the way she pepper-sprayed me - it's all subtle-like.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I took down her address and tried to stop my hand from shaking. I never get this way about a girl, but most girls ain't Candy Gable.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to fix her shoe. In the end, I just tied a bunch of biros to it. It wasn't pretty, but it did the job. Kinda like me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><u><br /></u></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><u><br /></u>
<u><b>Saturday</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><u><br /></u>
I spent all day getting ready to deliver the shoe. I even took a bath. I never take baths. I normally use the tub for storing old copies of Private Dick Weekly. That never has me in it, either. Oh no, but Joey Saccamoni got in just for reuniting a guy with his ma. Word on the street is the old gal was so senile, she just forgot where he lived.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I knew I had to be smelling fresh for this chick, so I stopped off at the grocery store for some mints and some menthol smokes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'And throw me in some of that cologne will ya?' I said to the square behind the counter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'But sir, this is my ear medicine,' he stuttered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'What the hell, kid? Did I ask for your life story? Just put it in the god damn bag so I can get on my way.'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Candy lived in a run-down part of town. A guy like me has to watch his back in a place like that. This one time, I went there to investigate a chicken theft. It was all going well to start with, but I was scrabbling across the rooftops in my skivvies before the night was out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I kept a hand on my piece the rest of the way there. I should point out that piece means gun. I ain't a pervert. I knocked her door and dabbed some of that kid's ear medicine on my neck.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Now, I'm what you'd call a cool customer. This once a guy jumped off a skyscraper and landed right next to me and I didn't even break my stride. But this time it was different. She looked like a movie star. I mean, yeah, so did my ex-wife, but Groucho Marx ain't exactly every guy's dream.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Ma-ma-ma,' I stuttered like Scatman John in a tumble dryer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'You're the shoe guy, right?' she said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'S-sure am, hon,' I said. 'Can I come in?'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She looked puzzled for a second, then nodded. The old charm working.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Inside, her place was interesting. Shaggy sheep, I think they call it. Or Shabby chic. Whatever. Do I look like Jim Llewellyn Bowen, for crying out loud?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'You want me to take my shoes off, doll?' I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Sure.'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I kicked them off and left them in the corner. 'You stay there, Ben,' I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'What did you say?' said Candy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Just named my favourite shoe,' I said. 'Like you.'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She looked confused and shrugged. 'So, did you bring, um, Candy?'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I pulled the stiletto out of the bag.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Whaddaya think?' I handed it to her. 'The biros make it look kinda classy, right?'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She looked at it with what I thought was amazement and wonder.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Naturally, no charge,' I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She kinda smiled and threw the shoe into a cupboard.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Ain't ya gonna try it on?' I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Um, not right now,' she said. 'Anyway, my date will be here any second, so . . .'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Date? What the hell? If I'd have known she was seeing some other schnook I wouldn't have made the effort.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Now, I'm a persistent man. I was kicked out of the Jehova's Witnesses for my so-called 'aggressive' tactics, but I know when I'm beat. So I put Ben and Ben 2 back on and headed for the door. When I opened it, I was stunned. And I'm not a man who's easily stunned, as the officer pursuing me with a Taser that time will attest. But the sight that greeted me at that chick's door turned my stomach like so much chicken jalfrezi.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Fat Barry?' I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'What are you doing here?' he said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'I could ask you the same question, short stack.'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'I'm here for my date with Candy,' he said. 'And why are you talking like that?'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'It's my Private Dick voice,' I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">'Well, it sounds like you're having a stroke,' he said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Candy came out behind me and gave Fat Barry a hug. 'It's great to see you, Barry,' she said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Something ain't right here. Fat Barry shouldn't be scoring with broads as smoking as that. I have to find out what his secret is. I have to use all the knowledge I gained at the Bob O'Flaherty One Day Private Investigation Super Course.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Looks like things are about to get interesting.</span>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932994986183455378.post-37922537089396279822013-11-18T13:18:00.000-08:002013-11-18T13:18:18.718-08:00My new careerSo I've decided to start a new career. Don't get me wrong, being a writer is fun. It's an exciting lifestyle. It's all parties*, drugs** and loose women***.<br />
<br />
* Tupperware<br />
** Lemsip<br />
*** The ITV chat show.<br />
<br />
But it doesn't make me feel like a useful member of society. I mean, if a cat gets stuck up a tree, the owners don't call a writer, do they?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq-YOvKZSAyHb_itKBu2CsWoKpTdDcCUffntEmEbGY_FyRL8ck-4nCcuBysZg8Eoej95wUbD2E5QiNXryBIXA3XHACcKGuUg7rCqFyNhf_-hfZimcN9E3Uot2huF1DY8DPEqhqN9ywjoc/s1600/cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq-YOvKZSAyHb_itKBu2CsWoKpTdDcCUffntEmEbGY_FyRL8ck-4nCcuBysZg8Eoej95wUbD2E5QiNXryBIXA3XHACcKGuUg7rCqFyNhf_-hfZimcN9E3Uot2huF1DY8DPEqhqN9ywjoc/s1600/cat.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If my words could build a ladder . . . Ah balls to it, pass me a rock.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Anyway, my quest to become a pillar of the community hasn't been easy. First, I tried to become a freelance fire fighter. This didn't go well. The head fire guy was kind of annoyed with me. He was all, 'you're not properly trained,' and 'you're going to kill someone' and 'a Supersoaker is not a recognised piece of fire fighting equipment.'<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zU3opj34wyIU5qBTpjZUVkyeJeMYul1m4YDMd01Okt76rOleHi4Saq-m_473Z_Gl05x7EWungYFsw6QPxR4fzSAMSRzpIu5qoy4R4cydYYpzNhMnnR-Tv7n6Mucw4SUwHW-DhpeRpWA/s1600/Station_Officer_Steel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zU3opj34wyIU5qBTpjZUVkyeJeMYul1m4YDMd01Okt76rOleHi4Saq-m_473Z_Gl05x7EWungYFsw6QPxR4fzSAMSRzpIu5qoy4R4cydYYpzNhMnnR-Tv7n6Mucw4SUwHW-DhpeRpWA/s1600/Station_Officer_Steel.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've had it up to HERE with your "roo-ules!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And my career as an entrepreneur was equally short-lived.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheD26AyfG48wCdIWPJStSUwK1w-VcmQY0Fn1EAEfd4uBxzjdEclgsqWckWaJVW8JknlPtNEPvQVkv9scAUP-_BsilZHhNVPWQmNfKOeQRXTcT1D7lbdGZFLWHwWy-KVBOqqtJCfQO8440/s1600/photo+(4).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheD26AyfG48wCdIWPJStSUwK1w-VcmQY0Fn1EAEfd4uBxzjdEclgsqWckWaJVW8JknlPtNEPvQVkv9scAUP-_BsilZHhNVPWQmNfKOeQRXTcT1D7lbdGZFLWHwWy-KVBOqqtJCfQO8440/s320/photo+(4).JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One day the world will be ready for the pumpkin hat. One day.</td></tr>
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<br />
Then one afternoon, when I was watching Magnum PI and picking my belly button fluff, I had a brain wave. It was his face that did it. That rugged face.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagQEBbn6wU21mlTeJ6AGIKNMO1RV220Oo-fKculArjaN9WyoLhUgHDMRNu6CWzgU6BSFsQ7tj8ETJZCbha0-1NM36DH2MMaP6ioiW9EusvpaVSzuQKq8G4wF-G2qu4JxxX9FWWTH0erY/s1600/selleck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagQEBbn6wU21mlTeJ6AGIKNMO1RV220Oo-fKculArjaN9WyoLhUgHDMRNu6CWzgU6BSFsQ7tj8ETJZCbha0-1NM36DH2MMaP6ioiW9EusvpaVSzuQKq8G4wF-G2qu4JxxX9FWWTH0erY/s1600/selleck.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you're not on birth control, chances are you're now pregnant.</td></tr>
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<br />
As soon as I saw him, I knew I had it! I was going to become a moustache comb salesman! Then, when that didn't work out, I realised what epiphany I was supposed to have had in the first place:<br />
<br />
I was going to become a private detective!<br />
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I rented an office, I bought a hat and I took up smoking. All I needed was clients. Stay tuned for what happened next.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtojvdSPdIqaukYftU1t5FHqcJxm_ZNx-MzI2DjkBQMWqwfK1owR8ogWciXNZX69Vxe5H5YjDhOCJA8Jn_rF7_EXCS85E0qnlcYjQCfiKu1wt9DyMrjI91Zw2sSThYK_1CLwm7s-pioo/s1600/cliffhanger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtojvdSPdIqaukYftU1t5FHqcJxm_ZNx-MzI2DjkBQMWqwfK1owR8ogWciXNZX69Vxe5H5YjDhOCJA8Jn_rF7_EXCS85E0qnlcYjQCfiKu1wt9DyMrjI91Zw2sSThYK_1CLwm7s-pioo/s320/cliffhanger.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How's about THAT for a cliffhanger?</td></tr>
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<br />Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01207672825354941588noreply@blogger.com0