Almost Famous? No, not really.

OK, if you know me at all, you will be thoroughly bored with me going on and on and on about the reading 'gig' I had on Saturday.

But, in case you were sat in a bibliophobic void for the past couple of weeks... On Saturday I ventured into the Wild West (Midlands) to visit Southcart Books in Walsall during their festivities for Independent Booksellers Week.

It wasn't just me, obviously... I mean there were some real writers there too.  Ones with talent and imagination and money and everything. All very imposing.

I won't bore you with the details of the trip down, it was reasonably uneventful.  Obviously the SatNav let me down a couple of times by suggesting some completely fictional lane choices at junctions that caused the DandyMobile to cover about twice the mileage that she had to.  Oh, and there was a bus that tested the very limits of my military defensive driving training on the Lichfield Road. (It was a good job that the Mehmsahib had convinced me to leave the Desert Eagle at home I can tell you)  Other than that, it was a pretty sweet trip.

We arrived about two hours into the event, which turned out to be a bit of a mistake as far as the official publicity pictures were concerned, and everything was in full swing.

Here's the group photo, can you spot who isn't there? (Photo by Craig Beas)

The shop was brimming with interesting people and I treated myself to a quick game of "Try to figure out which of these people are other authors and which are just clinically odd." - I lost, which is strange when you realised that I was just playing with myself... I mean... No, nevermind, you get the gist.

I introduced myself to Scott, the owner, and The MicroDandy introduced himself to Amy, Scott's partner and co-owner, by asking for a cake - This is one of his three standard opening gambits when meeting a new person, and the only one that involves food.

We mingled for a while, scanning the laden shelves of the Fantasy & Sci-Fi sections (Which in fairness, mainly consisted of me whispering "Goddit, Goddit, Goddit" under my breath and Mrs Dandy sighing.)

I managed to catch the end of Lucy Onions reading from her new book, Good for Nothing (Which obviously, you should all go out and buy) - We like Lucy Onions, as well as being a great author, she's a fine photographer AND the lead female vocalist of Northern Soul/Motown Party Band Soul'd Out - She also used the word 'Surreal' to describe my writing, which made me do a big grin.  She also wears great shoes.

I missed the next author's set, (This was a huge ommission on my part, see below) as my good friend and fellow Penguin's Header, Neil Sehmbhy arrived and we did some manly fist-bumps and talked about marketing strategy and cupcakes.

Then it was my turn to address the teeming throng...

Here is me, before my head went purple (Photo by Lucy Onions)

As I sat there, in front of a dozen or so people and spied the nice lady whose set I had just missed. "Feels strange sat up here, in front of all of these people doesn't it?" I said.  She looked at me oddly, which was the correct reaction as she didn't know who I was in the slightest and replied that you got used to it after a while, especially when you did the amount of shows and Cons that she did. (That might have come across sounding as if she was being a bit curt, she really wasn't) I later found out that she was Theresa Derwin, author of Horror, Sci-Fi and Urban Fantasy (You should buy all of her books too, obviously)

I'd planned to read a post from each 'Volume' of the collected Chimping Dandy, which I did.  And then I was going to finish with the famous 'Library Scene' from Windspider... But I didn't have time, you know why?  Because real people were asking me real questions about both my writing and The Penguin's Head.  I'm reliably informed that not all of my answers sounded like I was pulling them out of my rear end.  Some did obviously, but there were applause and laughs so I consider that it was all a bit of a success.

The MicroDandy, Bless his little black heart, filmed both of my readings on his KiddieZoom camera.  I present them for you below, should you be interested.

Above is me reading 'Thermodynaimcs, it's the law', the story about the relationship between my Dear Old Dad (TM) and a frozen pigeon.

And the other one is me reading 'The Price of Everything, but the Value of Nothing' which explains how money isn't actually worth anything and may as well not exist.

You'll notice that my head went purple during the performance, this is nothing to worry about and is completely natural.

During this time, the remaining third of The Penguin's Head arrived in the form of the literary Demigod (or do I mean Demagogue?) James Josiah and the rest of the afternoon dissolved into a bit of a bro-fest.

I did however, manage to hear some of Ian Billings' set, which managed to keep the MicroDandy enthralled. No real surprise as the gentleman in question was once a scriptwriter for Chucklevision. (amongst a huge list of other amazing things - Buy his books too, if you have kids that is, or if you're infantile... I'm not one to judge)

All in all, a day well spent.

If you find yourself in Walsall with a spare five minutes, you could do a lot worse that moseying down to Southcart books and taking a look around - Tell them that I sent you and you'll get a free "What are you talking about? Who's the bloody Chimping Dandy?" from the owners.

Southcart Books
20-21 Lower Hall Lane (You know, the white-painted one that used to be the hairdressers?)
Walsall
WS1 1RL

Just to prove that I do actually, write a Blog

OK, some of you will know that I'm currently in the process of writing a book.

It's an extension of the Edward Teach stories that I occasionally regale you with - But don't let that put you off.

I've found that it's a scary old thing, writing a book... Along with the standard 'Can I actually write a book?' and 'Will I get bored and give up and hate myself until I drink myself to death in an old bathtub on that bit of waste ground down by the gasworks?' questions that you constantly beat yourself up with, you release a second level of torture on yourself, and that goes 'But what if I can't get an agent?' and 'What if I get an agent, but no-one likes it?'

You can literally (See what I did there?) worry yourself into a premature Bisto.  It's best to just shout 'Buggrit' and let the literature flow when it will (Now do you get what I did?).

It might be rubbish, it might be twaddle, it might be the sort of high-camp space opera that would have EE 'Doc' Smith running for the air-raid shelter with a cuttlefish in both ears - But I still think we should all have a go, including myself.

So, in my constant endeavours to improve the quality of service I give to you people (my adoring readership) I decided to join a real Writers Group.

Now, before we go any further, I'd just like to assure any members of the Group that may happen to be reading this, I am not going to make the group itself, or the members that I have so far met, the subject of a full Blog post... I don't 'Do' current affairs - I'm going to wait until I can give a more in-depth view once I've been to a few more meetings.

So, why did I mention it if I wasn't going to Blog about it?

Good question... Good, good, question.  As part of my introduction to the group I said,

'Hello, I'm the Dandy and I write a daily humour Blog'

And then realised that I hadn't written a Blog today, and that struck me as rude.  So, as I'm a bit strapped for ideas (Don't judge me I've written some Flash Fiction today AND I'm going to be chunking away at the book in a sec), I thought I'd fling together a quick Top 10 Most popular Blog posts ever, as voted for by you guys, list.

Enjoy!

-oOo-

Dropping three places, at Number 10 is - Waiting for God-Oh! - A fictitious treatment of a drunken, Kebab-shop conversation between two Gods about the initial construction of the Duck Billed Platypus - Caution, one of your number actually tweeted The Pope about this post (No, really, someone did... They asked for my immediate excommunication).

Straight in at Number 9 is - This is why I'm smiling, how about you? - This is quite an earnest post about making small changes in your life that have large consequences, your own, personal Butterfly Effect. (Not that bloody awful Ashton Kutcher thing - The Edward Lorenz thing)

Another new entry at Number 8 is a DogBlog - It was like the Somme, only with more protein - Four (IIRC) stories of how one of my lovable pets managed to sequester food from various sources, without the prior knowledge of it's previous owners, and all the hilarity that ensues.

Our previous Number 6, drops a place to Number 7 - An eye for an eye - Describes, in haunting detail about how my Mother (Before she died) tried to turn me into a gibbering wreck via the medium of the false eye... It is a wonder that I'm so well adjusted.

The Current Number 6 (or, more correctly, Equal Number 5) - Second contact closing fast, bearing 076 - Is a story of inclement weather, explosively defecating truck drivers, and the possible closure of the M40

Our other Equal Number 5 - A discussion of pornography, do not read - Is just that, a diatribe that explores the difference between erotica, pornography, page 3 girls, firemen and dusty old harridans.

The highest new entry, straight in at Number 4 is - Then I posed, and he took my picture - Where I 'accidentally' have a photoset published in a German Gay-porn / fetish magazine... Yes, you heard me right...

At Number 3 - Boobs, Melons and Jumper-Lumps - Tales of my Hi-Jinks in Asda, including the internationally acclaimed 'Running down the aisle throwing a watermelon to myself' story.

The penultimate plethora of poorly phrased pulchritude is - Barnably Wilde (Pt. 1) - My first collection of my slapstick motorcycling memories.  A collection of reasons why I should never be allowed to ride a motorcycle, or be allowed out on my own, ever.

You all know what's at Number 1 right? It's been stuck there since the beginning of February and it's lead is fairly unassailable - Thermodynamics, it's the law! - The story of my Father and the descent of a young secretary into permanent mental distress, and a bird - Don't forget the bird.

Normal service should be resumed tomorrow... Yeah, everything should be back to normal by then... I should think... Probably

Top of the Blog Parade

Well, time for my first (and last) Friday post for this week.

I've noticed over the past few weeks that I've been getting hits on the 'older' pages of the Blog, some of the stuff that I originally posted on Facebook last year. Gave me a warm, glowy feeling in, what I like to call, my nethers.

I like some of my older stuff to have new life breathed into it, that's why I put all the hyperlinks in the new stuff (You see, you thought I was just a needy, self referential gitbag, whose only empty joy was pretending that people thought what he wrote was worth reading? - Oh! the irony!)

So I include below, the top ten most popular posts, starting at number 10, in a Smashy and Nicey stylee, as picked by you, the readers - There are no real suprises, but if you're bored and find yourself with a few spare minutes, these are the posts that you guys think are funniest, or most interesting, or... Oh, I don't know why you like 'em. You're the ones following a bald fat bloke with questionable personal hygiene and an over-willingness to share, you're obviously all deranged.

-oOo-

In at number 10 is a little story I like to call HAVE YOU TRIED TURNING IT OFF, THEN LEAVING IT This is actually a set of three stories about my first job in IT (In 1985 believe it or not) detailing some of the wonderful, completely not mad as a badger calls people still get on IT helpdesks all over this wonderful Kingdom of ours.

Number 9 is the only work of fiction in the whole top ten. A dramatic depiction of two gods, sat in a kebab shop, on a Friday night, discussing the creation of the Duck-Billed Platypus (and Chicken Tikka) - Put your Atheism together for WAITING FOR GOD-OH!

For all you fans of mechanical mayhem, Number 8 shows us how the restoration of vintage vehicles can sometimes lead to personal injury, and a small amount of light vandalism. BUT WILL IT FLY SMICK? proves that it's really not possible to make a silk purse out of a rusty Ford Transit Van. - The only SMick story in the top ten! - What's wrong with you people?

Number 7 is the closest thing I have to required reading. You can't appreciate the Chimping Dandy as a being until you know how he was created. AS THE SUPERHERO SAID TO THE STRIPPER is a blow-by-blow account of the creation of your friendly, neighbourhood, Superhero - Before I realised I was actually a Supervillain of course.

Number 6 is our first trip through the looking-glass into my childhood. AN EYE FOR AN EYE tells of my Dear Mother's constant need to fill my formative years with fear (Warning, contains mild psychological terror and scenes of a surgical nature).

Starting our journey into the top five is SECOND CONTACT CLOSING FAST, BEARING 076! Where I warn Ford Galaxy owners about a possible fault with their cars, and almost bring the M40 to a halt by explosively showering it with smouldering wreckage.

Number 4 is a love poem (well, prose really) to my favourite grocery supplier. In BOOBS, MELONS AND JUMPER LUMPS I relate another three tales about why I love ASDA (Walmart) so much - However, only one of the stories is actually about the female mammary area, just so you don't get over-excited.

A fairly new entry at Number 3 is the 'Chock full o' shocks' story of my attempt at becoming a fetish model - AND THEN I POSED, AND HE TOOK MY PICTURE A comedic, but still totally true description of the pre-show party for the Skin-Two Magazine's Rubber Ball in (I think) about 1998. And the chain of events that led to me being a household name in Germany.

The second podium place goes to BARNABY WILDE (PT. 1) A set of three cautionary tales about the trials and tribulations to be had when your motorcycle has three wheels and you're a bit gormless. There's personal injury, electrocution and dancing on ice. What more could you ask for?

But the winner, the piece de resistance, your most loved post by quite a margin, is not actually about me. It doesn't mention me, it happened before I was born. But even so, it is bloody funny. THERMODYNAMICS, IT'S THE LAW! is the story of how my Father used the corpse of a fragile, beautiful animal to condemn a young girl to an eternity of torment, reliving her horror over and over again until the end of time itself. Probably.

-oOo-

The Blog gets a lot of hits Internationally. I can identify who some of them are, I know who the German, Cypriot and Irish contingent are. I also know the identities of a large proportion of the UK and USA readers. The couple of hits from Isreal were, I firmly believe, Jason Bradbury from The Gadget Show and some from Canada, I think, were the director Kevin Smith. But many others find The Chimping Dandy through the Random Blog feature of Blogger itself, and still more find us through a Google search.

So, what would you have to type into Google to find this happy community? The top ten Google searches, where people found us and clicked through, as I believe the youngsters call it are:

10: Kipper the Stripper

9: It was a bright, cold day in april and the clock was striking thirteen

8: I shot myself 2013

7: I shoot myself dandy

6: dandy ishotmyself

5: boobs melons show in car

4: boob melons photos blogspots (I guess whoever searched for this was severely disappointed)

3: what do you call Dandy with tattoo

2: dandy boobs

1: swing away merrill

I think that this little sampling tells you all you need to know about the populace of the Internet. It's pretty much full of people looking for breasts and shooting themselves.

And they say the Internet's not like real life!

But my personal favourite, the one that mostly twists my melon, but unfortunately only got used once and hence doesn't appear in the top ten is 'Tandoori Wombat' - Not only will you find this Blog by typing this in, we're the first result!

I'm so proud.

Thermodynamics, it's the law!

Today's story isn't about me... It's about my dear old Dad - If anything, I like to think it goes to prove that whatever I have wrong with me, I probably got from him.

He's a young 84 year old - He's done a huge number of jobs in his long and happy life, from being in the RAF to working as an electrician on the railways and is blessed with a permanently sunny disposition (apart from the times when he's opinionated, rude and kranky)

This particular tale takes place in the (I think) 1960's and shows the healthy disregard for Health and Safety that made this country great.

-oOo-

It was summer, and hot. Hot enought that you could forget the whole frying eggs on the pavement scenario, and jump straight to the 'nylon trousers melting to your body and your conkers exploding' kind of deal.

At the time, my dear old Dad worked for British Oxygen (BOC), a company that makes and bottles all sorts of interesting gasses for industrial and medical uses. As the company name suggests, one of their biggest sellers was oxygen, liquid oxygen. This was stored in large, white tanks, you might have seen one - They're characterised by the fact that the pipes around their base tend to have a thick layer of frost on them.

One lunchtime, he and his cronies decided to go out into the yard to eat their 'snap' as was the colloquial word for a packed lunch at the time. Finding the sun to be a little warm and direct for their tender, British hides, they found respite in the shade of the big liquid oxygen tank. Halfway through their lunch, one of his friends spotted a pigeon, who had obviously landed on one of the pipes and had frozen, quite solid.

My father, who still has a love of physical humour, went and found some welding gloves and broke the bird free (unfortunately leaving its feet behind) and proceeded to marvel at this wonder of accidental science, it's perfect preservation, how peaceful it looked etc. One of his gang thought that a game of football would be the order of the day until it was pointed out that this might be, in some way, disrespectful.

At that very moment, a young and pretty secretary came around the corner and started to walk across the yard. Thinking on his feet, he grabbed the bird from the aspiring Bobby Moore and cradled it in his hands.

'Awww,' He said, 'Did the little birdie fly into the big nasty tank?'

As he said this, three things happened; He stroked the bird gently, as if it were the most precious thing in the world, his friends looked at him as if he had just had a debilitating brain aneurysm, and the secretary's interest was piqued. She started to walk over, all high heels, miniskirt and bouffanted hair and said,

'What's that?'

'It's a pigeon, we think he flew into the tank and knocked himself out... Didn't you little man?'

'Awwww.' Said the girl, leaning closer.

'In fact, we've been looking after him for a while, he's about ready to be released.'

'Really? can I watch?'

'Of course, Off you go little chap, be safe!'

With that, my Dad pitched the frozed pigeon up into the air, whereupon it arced about fifteen feet then crashed down onto the concrete yard and shattered into a million shards.

It's said, that on warm nights, if you're walking past the old BOC works in Derby... You can still hear her screaming.