Yesssssss! I just saw this:

Yesssssss! I just saw this: a conservatively, affluently dressed woman leading a transvestite guy by collar and chain through central Osaka in the middle of the afternoon.

The bloke was wearing a fetchingly tiny black one-piece with very endearing white and pink makeup, and pink flowers in his hair. He was middle-aged and his face sagged into his predicament like the actual soggy pudding of mortality.

I just fucking love big cities, I do!

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Sanctioned

Sanctioned_cover_04_draftThe man knocking on the shabby door of the grottiest flat in the scuzziest estate in the slummiest corner of London has a nose that looks like a bellend.

Gideon Smith steps back from the door upon which he has rapped with a smirk of satisfaction at a job well done and waits for someone to answer.

Smith is the definition of nondescript, the sort of person who could run down the high street on a busy Saturday afternoon stark bollock naked and with his head on fire without being noticed. He has buttoned-down hair with an appallingly neat side parting, a forehead that is expansive to no good end or reason, and a face that would be entirely without feature but for that one remarkable thing in its middle — and this thing is often and inevitably remarked upon. The remarkable thing being, of course, the nose that looks like a thing. It is, perhaps, the sole thing by which to remember Gideon Smith because the rest of him slips out of the consciousness so easily. The bridge of the nose is unusually round and tubular and angled in such a way as to suggest dangling-ness and terminates in an unusually bulbous and fleshy tip that is deeply cleft in a very unfortunate and evocative way. It is not just a feature that sticks in the memory, it is a talking point in itself. ‘Gideon who?’ people might say when asked to recall him. ‘Which Smith?’ they might ask. ‘Oh, you mean the bloke with a nose like a bellend?’ And, ‘Christ! I remember the nose, don’t remember the rest of him. Isn’t he a bit of a wanker?’ It is, you might say, his claim to fame, that nose that looks like a bellend.

There are other reasons besides the notable nose for which Mr Smith ought to be well known. If only anyone actually knew them.

[The first page of the new novel by Chris Page — to be published very soon.]

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Coming soon!

image loadingI’m a bit chuffed to have just finished the penultimate draft of the current story.

It’s been a long time coming (without good excuse in either my use of time or the quality of the story).

Next tasks: another thorough edit, and on with the cover art.

Presumably, the story will be in the shops this spring.

Can you contain yourself? Can I contain myself?

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Happy New Trump!

I should have put this up two weeks ago, but perhaps we can say it’s in time for the assumption.

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I wish now I’d made the drool blob piss yellow instead.

All the best for the new year everyone!

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In praise of the universal banana

How many uses for a banana are there? I can think of a few.

  • mimikaki for people with large ears
  • if tied to the bottom of feet they are a cheap alternative to roller blades by virtue of the slippy quality of banana skins
  • a crutch for a small person
  • a device for cleaning around the U-bend in toilets
  • a neck support for passengers on long haul flights
  • a stirrer for your tea
  • a friend to talk to
  • using advanced laser technology, a banana could be a device for storing huge amounts of information such as a novel like War and Peace: using clever mathematical formula you can encode War and Peace as a single long number: using clever laser technology you measure the exact mid point of the banana, then convert your number code for W&P to a fraction of one, and burn a line exactly that fraction of a centimetre from the mid point of a banana, and voila, you have the entire contents of W&P stored on a banana
  • a non-returning boomerang
  • a dug-out canoe for mice
  • an artificial chonmage
  • a lump in your pocket
  • prosthetic fingers for amputees
  • a snorkel for people who don’t do their snorkelling under water
  • vegetarian sausages
A chicken

A chicken

These bananas feature in Chris Page’s collection of short fiction, Un-Tall Tales, which you can find on Amazon, or explore further on it’s very own site.

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Bollocks to 2016

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Don’t look to me for answers, I want to know as much as you do.

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Page’s election analysis

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Sweet dreams are made like this

DreamcatchersLook! My super-cool daughter has been making super-cool dreamcatchers.

They are made with ivy from our garden, twine from the twine shop, stones mined from the more exotic moons of Jupiter or plucked from the rings of Saturn, and garnished with feathers harvested from the tails of griffins by our cat. Or some such.

Sweet dreams are made like this.

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Nothing more horrible than a nice cup of tea, don’t you think?

Of all the stupid things people say, one of the most stupid is ‘Would you like a nice cup of tea?’ I mean, what is the word nice doing in that sentence? It’s the sort of thing daft old grannies like to say. ‘Ooh! Let’s have a nice cup of tea.’

So I went round to my Gran’s the other day and I said, ‘How’re you doing Gran?’ and she said, ‘All right, you know, considering.’

She’s dead, my Gran, but she takes great care of herself, you know what I mean?

So she says ‘Come in, sit down. Would you like a nice cup of tea?’

I thought to myself, God, if I hear that one more time … But I said, ‘No thanks, Gran I’m all right.’

Then she said, ‘Would you like a horrible cup of tea?’

I thought for a moment. ‘How horrible? Without sugar?’

‘Without sugar. And I’ll spit in it.’

‘Nah, I’m not too bothered, thanks, Gran.’

‘I’ll put some spiders in. No sugar, spit, and spiders. And I’ll make it with toilet water.’

image loading‘Aye, all right then. Cheers.’

‘And how about some nuclear radiation?

‘Nuclear radiation?’

‘Nuclear radiation. I’m got some yellow cake.’

‘Now you’re talking, Gran. Champion!’

This nice cup of tea was brought to you by Chris Page’s collection of short fiction Un-Tall Tales. George Orwell was keen on a nice cup of tea, and you’ll find his brew here.

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Low art?

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A picture I did this week that may or may not say something about my current state of mind.

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