Forum Comments

Keep something to auction at the next Wheatsheaf evening! If it's not a pair of exercise shoes or a muscle-tightening machine, I might put in a bid. You know it all goes to a good cause. Enjoyed this.

Thanks Pia. I think I may have gone overboard here but find it hard to compress what's on my mind sometimes. All the best Richard

There's something here but I'm left wondering what it is. What does Anne signify and why is she proecting the police? What's the secret? The dialogue was spot-on but I had hoped that this was going to end with a spiritual/mystical message. Maybe I just don't get it, or it needs a second read.

Sounds like a new world leader's been born. Great stuff, Gristo.

This is as gritty and cheeky a piece as I've seen on abc. The last sentence confused me till I found order to what I believe a coward is in my own mind. It's so easy to bumble along through life as if it actually means something when in fact that person's contribution counts for precisely nothing, or less. (See insurance people, politicians, bankers, lawyers, NHS managers, civil servants, brokers.)

yeah, and the right are gonna come out on top, man. The lobbyists (lyists) just happen to be the same who are married to the teachers and lawyers. Ghana for the world! What a fantastic team. Rooney for Barbados. What a fantastic areshole

Nice one, Hadley. The producers could be forced to have the contestants strapped and headlocked in nice upright dentist's chairs, perhaps sponsored by Bet 365. They could be fed and watered through pipes into their stomachs and out through their cakes, in order to 'maximise staring-attention quality and performance, thus increasing watcher-friendliness'. Maybe allow the contestants movement of the cranium during commercial breaks ONLY, when their heads' cage could be opened up like in a sci-fi movie. I'm actually in a nice library and everyone in the place is staring at walls of one sort or another, typing away or just thinking, but constantly staring at the screens/books about fifteen inches from their noses. I reckon the police are going to burst in and fine the lot of us for 'overwatching', a brand new strain of social psychosis linked to early dementia brought on by 'sitting idly watching 'People Staring At Walls''. The medical profession might just want to nip the thing in the bud, maybe do some resource on research that delves into the research of the matter and 'maybe make a video of it somehow, or something' in order to ascertain the actual costs of this deplorable affliction. Honest, though, Slopout made me laugh, which is a tough call in a library.

Thanks Irlanducia. Of course it's fiction. I am actually a missionary working closely with the Pope to renew faith in Christianity. I live in a mansion subsidised by funds that I've skimmed off a few lesser known charities, including one for homelessness. Now you must excuse me as a bath of warmed mothers' milk collected from the workhouses of Rome awaits. So glad you enjoyed my petite histoire. Honestly? It is what it is. thanks for reading, Das Blighterus

Lost interest in footy now. I got Notes form Underground and can see similarities (feeling apart from society, hating mediocrity, unknowingly snatched from another planet). I used to write like that in an attempt to wind people up; it worked. The last two are going on now and then it's the end. Bliss.

I enjoyed the simplicity of this. Imaginative, too.

Reads very well indeed and am looking forward to more. Tom Sharpe antics or romantic or a bit of both? I wonder what that gun's for. All the best Richard

Top notch. These people sound more like spatial engineers than middle-management morons. The ending was fab; the bike was air to the suffocating conversation, but I'd have loved a Billy Liar sequence with a machine-gun before he left, blasting these dorks further into their seats and leaving them dripping. Don't worry, I'm not saying this would have added to it. It's just that I always want to flavour my favourite stories/poems, because in a way they become mine when I read them. I want to be a part of them. All the best Richard

This reads very well and deserves the weekly honours.

Cool writing style and quite hypnotic, especially the repetition at the beginning.

This, with your excellent style and energy fully committed, could be something far more substantial. Only two paras in, I had that feeling I get once in a bluey, the 'this stinks of money' feeling, and by the end, I'd imagined a deluge of sub-plots from Chicoso's time at the mines and the journey there and back, just from the final two paras, to insist that this be expanded for novel readers. With an innocent, hopeful village upbringing to the tempting, machined dehumanising of the mines and back again, a changed man battered by the constraints of the world could easily be a publishable affair. Sure, it would need research into the lives of the miners, but the rest would be plain sailing, judging by the ease with which you transport us to the scene. I hope you consider this idea for a while.

Nora Batty. That was the oddest story I've read for donkeys. It's like digesting Lego. Tough to tackle, but very whacky, nutsville to the extreme. Maybe it needs a second read. I like the idea of a novel being written by the characters of its author. Achygroundbreaky, no doubt. Oh, and the bit about Hawkins is priceless. Really dorkish. Prof Martini sounds like the sort of cowardly no-mates scumbag cyberbully I'd lerve to see hanging from a tree like in the westerns with flies the only sound as Lee Van Cleef surveys the corpse on his trusty geegee and then lazily rides off.

Quirky and intriguing. Looking forward to more.

Nice. Some mates of mine were in a Sunday league till recently, when they put the ref in hospital and badly beat the other side. Needless to say, they're no longer in the league and can be found dribbling and scoring down the pub instead now. Did you know that refs get £100 a match? Not bad, hey? Perhaps your lot could meet and have a game together. Perhaps not.. Most enjoyable fayre.

Great stuff. I'll have more of Benny boy when you're ready. Read a book called (I think) 'How Late It Wa, How Late' (it won the Booker prize a few years back) and Benny reminds me of him in more innocent days. Many brilliant observations and classy bits of wordplay; too many to highlight. I agree with davidgee. It needs a quick brush-up, but this has a very nice first-person-like voice. If the police don't get ya, Dragon Lady will, and if Dragon Lady doesn't, the drink will.

Do we bask? I don't think we do, but it's good to know he's gone. Like all famous psychos, Binny Boy's notoriety was founded on self-appointed bloodlust. He supported Arsenal and apparently had a jolly good time in London during his studies. I put the reason 'they hate us' down to good old-fashioned jealousy. That, and undying love for blithe ignorance and extravagant hypocrisy. But they don't really hate us, do they?

If exceptionally mean-hearted or repulsive writing is stopped, it is sure to rear its its ugly head in other more devious, destructive ways than on a sheet of paper or a computer screen. People's interpretations of work are sometimes more destructive than the words which appalled. Emotionally challenged writers should be allowed to free their thoughts through words and so long as acts of violence rest in the imagination, they are guilty of absolutelynothing. Those who judge works of particularly bloodthirsty, morally corrupt content would do well to remember that Dracula, Frankenstein, Fred West and every other heinous killer who had a book written about them were all bestsellers. Crime, horror, dark arts, whatever; it's art if it's good. There is not enough risk-taking in literature these days. Writers are too fearful of reprisal and it takes an enormous amount of courage to write something as sinister and otherworldly as, for instance, Frankenstein, written by a woman whose life was torn apart by personal tragedy from the moment she started writing it. That she wrote it shows that she placed art before her own life, art which has been enjoyed by many generations and which continues to confound the minds of eminent scientists and religious leaders alike. The fact is, we need to stretch the boundaries but all I can see is a constant shrivelling, mostly because of societal fear led by politcally correct shysters who can't face their own demons.

Another important memory for me was of a boy in India about 20 years ago. I was on a boat going along the backwaters of Cochin to get to a mysterious ashram, snozzled on Jack. My girlfriend and her convent school friends were all in white satin dresses, excited to meet the kissing mother goddess at the ashram, and there were lots of Americans on the boat, all talking about Vishnu and Vindaloo or whichever diety name they were going to use for themselves at the ashram. Suddenly, a boy of about nine started running along the bank to keep up with the boat. He was shouting something but no one got it at first. Then I understood. He wanted a pen. He was repeating 'Pen,pen,pen,pen,pen' as he fell and got up again from the undulating bank. I asked the people on the boat for a pen and they all seemed to look at me like I wasn't there, so I shouted 'Pen! Now!' and one of them gave me a pen. I threw it to the boy and it landed just in front of him. He picked it up and got up again. 'Pen,pen,pen,pen!' he carried on, still running with us. That made me laugh with joy! I think I got three pens to him in the end. When I see WHSmith full of paper pads and children's stuff galore, I often think of that boy and how I'd love to give him a whole load of goodies. It's these memories that stick with me much more than the glam and glitter.

Yeehah! I was about to open a forum topic to state my feelings of this story's cherry-worthiness and hey presto! You deserve it cos it's brill. Welcome to the house of literary love. Keep posting. I want more. All the best, Richard

Lovely writing. You have an incredible memory for all things seventies and the relationship between Phil and Summy took me back to my days kicking about in New Brighton hunting for building sites to trash. Being bored with a mate in those days are some of the best memories I have. Spose you can't get down to London for the 15th? One of your countrymen will be there and he's reading a story about his adolescence in Clyde (i think it's Clyde). You'd enjoy it, I'm sure.

Thanks a lot, Steve. I appreciate the lead and will do some digging. all the best Richard

Just ask people to put your username in the searchbar and click on it when it appears

Don't worry Tan. they've ofund a new planet and will leave us to play amongst ourselves soon. Why else would the US and the Ruskies start to colloaborate on space projects? I wish they'd hurry up and fuck off though.

If a diagnosis has been made and has proved to be the case, then certain drugs should be used to allevaite the disorder. If, like me, the problem is more emotional/spiritual than mental/physical, then drugs shouldn't be used. It's an inside job all the way. I've had help and have just started a new relationship with a psychotherapist, but I often leave feeling like it's a waste of money. As my problems are connected with drink and drugs, I have found that AA is the only way to get better. It's free and everyone understands where I'm at within seconds. Life's a set of ups and downs. I just can't tell whether I'm up or down sometimes, and the bit in the middle is the place I feel most at home with myself. If you try and get shot of feelings with drink and drugs, I have only one thing to say; AA. It continues to save my life if I let it. The God thing put me off at first but that was just an excuse on my part to pick holes. It's easier (and infinitely better) now I can accept that there's something much bigger than human beings running the show. In fact, it seems laughable now that I ever imagined humans could be capable of getting the sun to rise in the morning. All the best Richard

Thanks for reading, Jenny and Pia. Glad you're enjoying it. There's plenty more coming and I'll be putting on 3 excerpts a day. I can't work out the end yet so any feedback and ideas are very welcome. All the best Richard

i get astounded when i see how women always seem to be carrying something almost everywhere they go while men have everything in their jeans. How the seasons always come round really is amazing, and a flower can grow on tarmac.

Masterfully penned and thought provoking. A great poem can extinguish anger when it bears so heavily on the mind... Now I best get back to grinding my teeth on David Cameron's ego.

If this carries on the way it's going, you may be in danger of getting published. I find everyone so believable and funny. The thoughts of the boy are so correctly adolescent that I'm finding it hard to imagine that you're a. an adult and b. a girl/woman. There's a My Family feel to this in the way you play with everyday weirdness and make it seem, well, normal yet funny. Well bloody done.

Thanks for reading and commenting, Insert and Oldpesky. Last night, I was told how a friend's family did actually find a bird in some skirting in their kitchen. The dog barked, the family revelled in the chaos and the death-tech teenager nonchalantly saved the day, but I intentionally didn't ask too many questions about the bird's type or size, how it got there or where they released it because I wanted to develop it for myself. That a baby bird could survive such a fall is as questionable as a teenaged anarchist storing birdsong on his ipod, but that parallel exists for a reason, to me anyway. Day-old babies are sometimes abandonned by desperately vulnerable or ill-prepared mothers and survive against great odds, found shivering in doorways. All the best Richard

Thanks for that, Insert and Tony. I'm hoping to do 200 copies, depending on price, so I'll need a printer. Looked up blurb and seen some of their stuff. It's well done but I have a mental block about paying over a ton for delivery. Call me a miser, but that just seems like an add-on cost to me. I'll look up printnetwork and ingramcontent now. Murky buckets.

No embarassing squeaky chords here. Superb concept eloquently executed.

Thanks for reading, Jennifer and Pia. I really appreciate your comments.

This really reminds me of my Scottish drinking mates of only 18 months ago. One's a serial messer and the other's holds the world record when it comes to intake of illicit substances coupled with lager. The way you write this leads me to believe you've been in many a similar situation before. The dialect is easier wae every chapter and the characters are so believable I can almost see them. I was going to say smell them but I wouldnae want to get too close for comfort. As you know, I'm not new to these sorts of shenanigans and I get a feeling of tangible authenticity from all portrayed here.

I wasn't disappointed, Insert. Spent the whole match in the pub watching/laughing at the excruciated expressions of expectant fans. It was the farce that I expected, hence I wrote this today on a hangover. Chuck, Rooney's a good player but he can't handle the ball with all its roundness. If he did, it would be hand-ball and that might make him upset.

I'd stop worrying about the read-count, Christine. In my opinion, it's not indicative of the quality of writing but perhaps more to do with personal preference from the most loyal and avid readers and writers. For instance, if you look at the cherrypicked poems, you will find a great many reads and comments from fellow poets. The poetry audience seems to learn and thrive from the writing of others, and it's a close community. Perhaps because I have started to see my own story material in its true light for the very first time (being sober does put things in perspective) coupled with the children's book that I am now promoting (and the endless court case), I now find that shorter pieces that explain and help me to qualify my feelings, which I'm only beginning to understand, rather than dreaming up my weird and whacky storylines, which I've always done till recently, is much more relevant to my current state of mind. I'm not university educated and now accept that a novel needs REAL work such as that which you are doing. The children's book and poetry are easy for me to handle and novels always seem to skew my thinking/reality which I can ill-afford to play around with right now, so... Stick with this, don't lose heart, keep channelling your energy into it, and things will happen from this. I'm quite sure that I know outstanding writing when I see it, even when it's not my normal reading material, but maybe that's something else thaat's changing in me. It's only a feeling, but if these carry on the way they're going, keeping the shape of the voice and engineering the storyline in a way that feeds the reader's inquisitive mind, I can assure you I'll be reading on without a doubt. This is the only novel-sized collection on the site that I feel drawn to.

Thanks Sundays and Insert. I'll look over the dialogue you mentioned and I think you're right about the going away and thinking about it, and the age rating (forget there were swearwords in it).

Bigtime cheeryworthy, I reckon.

You need to post a story in your profile, which is where people can refer to your work. If everyone posted stories as a forum topic, then the whole idea of the forum topic section would be pointless and just an advertising platform, which would completely devalue its purpose . Bad day or not, I strongly oppose using the forum topic to post stories. I am sorry if I have offended you and hope that you do not take my comment as a personal attack. It's purely ethical. I just checked your profile but there are no stories there, and that is where stories go. This is an amazing site and incomparable to whatever else purports to be similar, so I hope you stick around to enjoy it and don't see this as a reason to leave. All the best Richard

Bobby of Squarus Pantius would cackle his pantyhoses off to this. This piece is destined for superstardom at Bikini Bottom's annual oxygen-bubble-blowing contest!

Rock hard! Just about sums up the numbskull rewards from the digital enlightenment. I did a story called 'Nice' that you might enjoy. Like, same sort of message. All the best Richard

Luly's idea of performing this, slowly and then faster faster gaining momentum, until the lulled end, is a good one. I thought she'd come a cropper but better to live a year like a falcon than a century as an ant. It's poignant that the light was red but I think this spirited person may have been just too alive for this world. All the best Richard

Trippy and funky. This set of bitesize stories is like a wild flower covered in ivy, but constantly dodging suffocation and frustrating its aggressor. If only there was a dynamic duo like these two warriors to take on our money-mad devils.

Society? What society? This poem/streamofthought/prosetry/scream alerts me to the fact that civilisation, for the vulnerable, is a loveless loop of careless distress-enhancing. Great stuff well mashed! Richard

I can just see the balls of the peacably ordinary men recede into their stomachs and the woebegone hearts flapping from the chests of the ladies as this fella enters the breakfast lounge after a big un, looking like something out of Prison Break. It's awful how those toasties can be messed up but I'd rather not be the waiter with the overdone scrambled eggs. All the best Richard