Forum Comments

Lem This may be short notice but I wondered whether you'd be able to read some of your work at the next Abctales evening in London on Wednesday 16th November? It's a great buzz and really helps the creative process. You may be far away but if you can make it, please come and meet some like-minded folk.

Societal conditioning has a lot to answer for, and I've always wanted to know the real reason why the powerful mites want us to be so fearful and isolated and eyes-down when there's so much more to do and make and see. In the end, though, it's down to the individual to override the useless, self-degrading fear but not so much that he strolls out into the road and gets run over. Some fears are life-savers, but feeling fear is a real buzz too, almost palpable and a massive endorphin rusher. I'll never bungee jump because I find it difficult to trust people (did he purposely loosen my cord? etc). I'm aware that I have a lot of work to do on this!

This guy sounds like he may be possess drugs or weapons in his briefcase, but not a heart, unless it's for a dodgy transplant. Are his visiting women-friends ladies of the night or is that just my take on it? I found this interesting but feel sad for the receptionist.

Extremely good. This should be published.

Hi Julie. i'm glad you enjoyed this and really love your comment, which has brightened up this dreary, damp day. i don't think the MP would enjoy it, though. It's strange to think that the most out of touch person in the country is the one who's supposedly running it! He reminds me of one of the more dim-witted contestants in 'The Apprentice'. All the best, you little star! Richard

Nice, though I'd sleep with one eye open in future. Thoughts like these are usually reciprocated! a good, visual and unerring piece.

I've finally noticed that when I have disposable money, I'm far from myself, literally, constantly trying to find something 'new' to enrich my life, which is usually tat I don't really need. When I've got nowt, but with gas in the car and munch in the fridge I get on with writing undisturbed and life just rolls on and into place. I love the way you write with detail, something I personally don't feel comfortable doing, and the points of reference you give are levered in such a way that they don't seem to be pushed onto the reader. There's a good sense of guidance throughout the message that beats beneath most of your work. I've written a couple of novels and novellas but, as you, seem to prefer the punchiness and fleeting wonder of a short. Whether that says more about my sex drive than anything else, I don't know. Anyway, a reliably good read. all the best Richard

Thanks Scozen and Julie. Glad you enjoyed.

Really effective conversational piece that questions the depths (or heights) that Murdoch may go to for a story. Vane intervention. I like the bit about him needing proof of a story's truth, a code of sorts, and you've certainly excelled yourself with this one. It was tapped from that place I can rarely find. The Void; it's a heavenly place. All the best Richard

Cheers, John. I see your point. It does look good on the page, compliments it. Someone recently said to me that a white page is a friend, and I see what he means in the context of making a piece more appealing on the page, but deep down I'm an old fashioned stickler and find myself comfortably reverting to 'if it's good, it'll sing anyway'.

If conscience alone was good reason enough to kill, as Dostoevsky wrote about in Crime and Punishment, committing that sort of crime in a state of unnconsciousness would provide little for a jury to play with, especially when coupled with the beautiful notion that 'crime is a protest against the unnatural structure of society'.

A lovely skip down the old lane. I can just see your wide eyed anticipation in the alley and the constant tinkering of the doll house doors. All the best Richard

Hi Pia, I've been thinking of visiting Denmark since hearing of its responsible, sane government policies in a book called 'Affluenza' by Oliver James, so I hope you can point me to a nice B+B in Copenhagen for when that time comes. Best wishes, Richard

This and all your work can be read again and again without once imagining that time is being wasted. This is as good as eating walnuts in between thin chunks of dark chocolate with a proper cup of coffee on a cold wintry night. You can't half tell 'em.

Hi Barry, Similar/the exact same issues; we're all in the same doo-doo, and you're so right- the more things change, the more they stay the same. Doesn't that say something about the people that make the 'changes'? For me, it's just one big tease and they're laughing all the way to the bank. The changes are only made to keep us living in pathetic hope. They don't help or hinder but each change costs an awful lot of money and it's the people that pay. Loose change to them means no change for us. Thanks for reading. All the best Richard

Thanks for reading, Magic, and glad it tickled. What would we do without the battle of the sexes? Pretty dull. Women can be stubborn and haughty, but they have something essential to protect that we men seem to forget quite conveniently; the effects of sex on the body are certainly different. Men may become limp and unambitious after a bout but they'll never be pregnant, which is quite a consideration. All the best Richard

Just thinking about good friends can see us through hard times.

I never meant to harass or disturb. The drink and smoke make me a blithering irritant. You're right, Highhat, I was so drunk I didn't even know I'd posted my twaddle until Insert told me just now. Sorry to Insert, Tony and anyone else who may have taken offence. In compensation, I am shamefaced, embarrassed and soon I will go to bed, sober.

Don't be sorry on my behalf, Barry. Absolutely priceless! Oops, this is Oldpesky we're talking aboot. Best keep very quiet from now on.

Echo Lenchenelf and Fatboy. I seem to have a fixed wry smile on my face when I read your work. It flows so well that one has to just go along with it. Addictive, soulful and with plenty of kick. Not easy to do.

You're onto a winner here! Perfectly weighted and flowing like a burst river, this really is a tour de farce. Comedy at its most quirky and with your muse a satisfied customer, this is pure genius. The Peskmeister on a dandy day is a rollocking read. One to read; The Queen by Alan Bennett. You'll love it.

Yep, she's an inspiration. Keep on truckin', Insert. It only gets better but, without the Marnie the Marvel, even for a few weeks, it'll be interesting to see how you continue to capture out thoughts and smiles. The mark of a good roll of work is losing something familiar and carrying on regardless. I have little doubt that you'll manage.

Thanks for your brilliant post. I used to eat paper and bite leather off my jacket. Still bite nails. My sister used to like charred toast, a bit like coal, but I've never tried it myself. What you said really cheered me up actually. Only been with abc for a month-odd and I was starting to get the impression I was alone in the cooky/whacky world out there till just a few mins ago. I'd love to read more about your fascination with coal and brick dust.Have you thought about writing on it? I think you got the message I wanted to put across in the story, which is that someone with OCD will always find their drug of choice and that the drugs will get increasingly more dangerous. Best wishes, Richard

Love. Got it on the brain in an attempt to feel it again. Point taken, though. The poem's more about alienation, not wanting to be reached, inconsolability (does that work exist?) and rawness.

Your comment tickled me and I need to be cheered, so thanks. I think I'll stick to cheese (the dairy form) for subconscious nutrition.

'What if?' questions can be quite interesting, but a world without men would be incredibly dull, especially for women, even they did have a good selection of dildoes. There'd be no one for women to bounce off and believe me (I've just finished a parents course with a brilliant group of mothers) they prefer male company more than they let on. Women hold on to secrets and remember their childhood. Men blab to anyone and block out the past. All in all, the whole gender-hating problem has come about as a result of changes in perception/law/society/beliefs that we're only just starting to understand and which were previously taboo or very difficult to confront, ie. divorce, homosexuality/lesbianism, the state of the world, the rise of feminism and the law's wildly sexist attitude towards men (who are generally seen as the devil), our own wrongdoing as guardians of the planet, the awful hypocrisy of politics, double-standards and generally having to cope with very manipulative media moguls and bankers who run governments ragged with their childish and penny-pinching wishes. Women are great but there'd be none without blokes. I have a plan to write a story set in the future when men have become so disinterested, and disillusioned, in women that gloriously pretty women have to fight in all sorts of weird ways to back hairy-backed slobs who may still find them attractive. Maybe it's just a case of who's got the womb. Look at seahorses; the blokes give birth and make seabeds for baby seahorses while the birds swim off down the crusty crab for a pint of prawns. We'll just have to get over this new wave of gender-angst, for which unwarranted fear and a bewildering lack of self-love has a lot ot answer. If there were no men, life would be no fun for women at all.

Couldn't help comparing the princess to the lost sense of natural beauty corrupted and marketed like meat in the world and all the fumbling helpers as the hapless, careless baffoon heads of state that seem happy to dumb us down to dementia. It just had to be an easily swerved Father Christmas, the ultimate pervert, who saved the day. You have an inate, subconsciously divine way with words. This is a great story from a mind, free from conscious programming, that has very cleverly computed a compilation of his favourite stories in an anarchic mishmash, conjuring an original and highly enjoyable read. This would be high up on my wishlist for a limited edition Abctales Book of Short Stories, if there was one.

Provocatively mysterious and enjoyable to read.

I think that a real book of abctales' shorts, poems and rants would be a natural progression for such an original site. Being an internet novice when I joined earlier this year, I assumed that 'magazine' meant magazine and didn't realise just how imaginary the web is. I'd like to see a proper book similar to the size of a typical novel promoting about fifty writers and poets from abc. I don't see the harm in it, especially if each artist agreed to purchase at least a dozen copies to pass on to friends, publishers, family and others. If a total of fifty artists are prepared to outlay £60 (assuming the book was a fiver) for their inclusion, the total received would help keep the title afloat; the bread and butter. I'm quite sure that loved ones would be prepared to reimburse the artist to lessen his/her financial burden but, when all's said and done, it's something to hold (unlike a web mag) for posterity and to show future generations. This would offer talented unknown artists a real marketing tool for their work and also promote abctales in an ambitious way that mirrors the quality of work submitted on the site. It could start out as a quarterly issue, and, depending on whether it uses material solely from abc, become monthly over time. In 1995, I self-published my first novel with a run of two hundred copies and it cost £440 to print and bind. It's even cheaper nowadays. I'm putting together my picture book, 'Of Course You Can Meet The Queen!' with twelve b+w line drawings and a full-colour cover and it's only £3 a pop for 1-3 copies and £2.50 for 100 or more (or close).

'She's really enjoying stalking all her ex-lovers on there'. That made me laugh. The flow of this one works very well indeed and Marnie reminds me of me (I made a conscious effort not to get familiar with tech/net for years). One thing you might want to think about ailments; an anorexic eats very little but doesn't throw up too much, a bulimic gorges and then pukes it back up. The acid from the stomach rots the teeth and erodes them, which makes them grey and lifeless. This is getting better and better and your hilarious observational skills are written gems when they're sprinkled around pictures of Marnie. Story of the Week beckons again; this time much more deserved than ever, if it was up to me.

Ps. It's A Hoxton Childhood by A S Jasper, not Bryan Magee.

Oldpesky's done it again. Only he can cut through the proverbial and have me in stitches with one swipe. It must be another one of those lovely derby days up there. Bless 'em with their gritted teeth and eyeless gazes and Skol supers. Never a better statement that hateful men can hide behind religion to cause violence and death. Please write about it and post it, Pesky. I need to laugh and I don't care at whose expense any more. As for what's good writing, check out Alice Munro and Laurie Moore. A mate just told me to read their shorts but the library's closed. He likes it so that's good writing. All the best Richard

Cripes! Was that me you were on about? You must know that normal's the new weird. I like the kind of slurry way you've smacked this together. Reminds me of one I did when I was probably in blackout (couldn't remember writing it but laughed when I read it). Nice one, Louise; you press buttons. That's the ticket! It's healthy and shows a great sense of fearless humour.

You're a star, Julie. I love this comment of yours. We're so quick to stay in the boxing ring, aren't we, but it's the falling away of pride that opens our hearts. I'm in Newhaven today so close by to you. Say his to Ray and tell him to steer clear of those bookies for me! All the best, Richard

Quite right, Kurt, but I fear that this govt has no urgent plans to help the working classes and has even coined a new name for them, the underclass, which is apt considering that there's no manual work left and they would rather they were six feet under. It's far more profitable for the govt to import cheap goods and rely on tax revenue from the big retailers than to suffer having to give its own people a livelihood. Once they've started taking chunks out of the public sector workers (who have in the main been quietly compliant and orderly till now), we might just wake up to the fact that the govt is nothing but a glorified benefit cheat, criminals living off profits from nefarious dealings, slowly suffocating people's hopes as if we were just obstacles to progress; a necessary evil that they put up with. All the best Richard

Jolono, That's a great story in itself and could lead to some pretty dark places, especially if the happy-go-lucky person answering the call invites the hapless telesaler to a get-together and decides to show another side to his character. Interesting. Maybe it could end with a look at his wine cellar in the basement, only to be pushed down the stairs, landing in a heap amongst the skeletons of previous telesalers.

I didn't know it was Byron but I could tell it was old and dated. That flowery style always made me puke, reminding me of the cup-handed fairer sex striking submissively quaint poses for the local gentry one minute and then, once away from the village hall or the bloody church, screaming blue murder at her husband for being so comparatively poor. The fact is, I much prefer the second, or your, poem and this is screaming out for a cherry. I'd be more upset that it didn't get one than Archie's confusion. It's so obviously not intended to be plagiaristic that I'm surprised you bit back at him. Just put it down to a bad day, Florian. It's a really, really good piece that says a lot, but the boat-rocking of political correctness is often too challenging and bitter an apple for some to contemplate enjoying. I think you're in Italy, you lucky sod, so just enjoy la dolca far niente and write another cracker for us. Set sail your anger; it can be a very positive emotion when it's channelled carefully. All the best Richard

Thanks, Andrea. I need something to get my teeth into and there's no time like the present. Publishers are acting like sleeping giants and I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't regain consciousness. Richard.

I'm a strong believer that writer's block is blighter's rock backwards, and as such I can safely say it's a pain in the arse that I have to live with, although its presence is usually brought about by lengthy bouts of self-piteous depression, which can give me a nice story if I can be bothered to write the fucker out, although I'm not averse to dwelling in my pit o' shite till the sun comes out again, at which time I'm a spritely ballerina again, twirling for the masses in the dance of life. teefuckinhee. No, writer's block's OK by me, Peskmeister. It's depression that makes me a lazy clutz.

This brought up a lot of feelings in me to do with my children, who I haven't seen for almost seventeen months. It's like a sentence to me but I dread to think how they feel. Thoughts of how they are can only be rested by prayer. I know their mother despises me and poisons the children against me, which makes me angry that they're not allowed to own their feelings, but I believe that grief is even worse when those being grieved are alive and hopefully well. How this didn't get cherries is beyond me because this piece could really help Abc's younger readers. Perhaps one day, you'll publish a collection of shorts. One question; did you choose a male voice to distance yourself in order to write freely? If that's the case, it's a gallant and superb effort. All the best Richard

Hi, I tried to read the message you sent but I still don't know how to get in there and get it out. I thought I'd contact you by going the usual way around it and stumbled into this short, very nice story. I asked someone at the libarray and she can't get it either.Any suggestions? Blighter

Hey Scratch, glad this made you smile. Hi Maggie, great to see you last Wednesday. I hope you enjoyed your birthday bash in Covent Garden too. Hi Julie, Tony's right about your work for the latest comp. Muchos lovey stuff. Richard

That's a relief. I've been hoping you'd write back and it takes a big man to settle things down as you did. No one wins in a battle of words. I need to step back and think about my posts before I send them. Weirdly, a new arrival just put up a lovely forum topic and mentioned how she'd been surprised by certain anymosity on the site (probably us two) and I felt like a right killjoy. It compounded your first point, and I should remember that. I appreciate your apology but I was equally to blame. They say discretion is the better half of valour. All the best, Richard

Worth a log-in just to write a comment on this seemingly effortless poem. Oldpesky and Blighters trying their hands at poetry? Who'd have thought it? A pair of bruisers doing pilates. This is one of those poems I had to read twice or three times to absorb the message, (or maybe it's because I just got back from a really sick AA meeting and am seething inside, tight as a golf ball in an oven about to explode). I think that the work you do in 'real life' may go a long way to explain why this was so easy for you to write. I might be wrong, but it seems to have been written almost at a whim. If giving is getting, and you do a lot of that at work, you've quite rightly hit the jackpot here.

I've decided not to enter into any more arguments with you and deleted my last comment to you, which was borne out of anger and resentment which I can no longer afford.