I Am A Human Arial And My Children Will Arrive As Ready-Made Faith No More Fans

I've got one of those in-car radio transmitter things, the ones that you plug into an mp3 player or something and it plays through the radio - you dig?



Cool as.



And it's pretty mint, mostly, but recently it's been getting a bit crackly. It's getting on a bit now and after an awkward first date with DK it's not really very talkative anymore. Tends to just be a bit ... well... staticy, I suppose.



It's ok when it's in conversation, as long as it's not straining it's voice. Me and my Geet Mint PR Guru take it with us on picnics onto the moors (pronounced moooo-ahs, by the way, as they are the Durham Dale ones) and it tells us stories. All very nice, even if my car smells of sausage roll and chilli crisps for days afterward.



But, on my way to (work) in the morning I find screaming is a good way to get myself prepared. I could do what some of my (colleagues) do, I've seen them scribbling away in huge geet big books, organising themselves and (planning). But I'm not into all that. My geet huge book is red and full of scribbles. Some of which look like spiders which I then see, much later, out the corner of my eye and terrify myself with. There is no planning.



Because I prefer to scream my way to work.



Problem is of course is that the radiotransmitterythingy can't do it. It's all croaky and rubbish when it yells.



Except, sometimes it isn't. I have discovered that, like most things, all it needs a bit of love.



I have discovered that if I hold it I can breathe new life into the machine.



Either I have magical electronic healing powers, or I'm a half decent conductor of radio waves, I dunno which, but I do know that it makes the shouty music sound better.

I know that Faith No More, on a Monday morning is now playable at high volume.

Only problem of course is driving one handed: generally frowned upon. So this morning I tried a new solution.

This morning on my way to (work) I wanted Shouty Dropkick Murphies. And I got Shouty Dropkick Murphies. By sitting on the transmitter.

This makes makes me fear for my ability to sire children now.

I don't like the thought of my crotch transmitting...

It cannot end well...

Rejoice! For I Am Alsorts Of Returned, How.

Ah... Work.

A joy isn't it?

Yes, that's right, a work whinge. And I don't care what you say. I know I get six weeks off when the rest of the world is sweating in offices. I know I am guaranteed time away from work every seven weeks or so while the rest of the world slowly sinks into their pits of routine and misery.

I know that I am, essentially, very lucky.

But I also know that this is not what I signed up for.

Anyway, enough of that, and no, I won't be apologising for my absence. Things needed doing. Things still needed doing. Me and DK are moving, again, things around me unravel a little then tighten up. You know: stuff.

The point is though: I'm back. So Rejoice and stuff and behold me, all minty and fresh, how.

I've even got some news.

If you wander through my fairly unminted website you will find a new events page which is chocka full of events for me and DK.

But, in case you're lazy here they be, my Autumn Tour dates...

September:

29th - Reading and Q & A @ Cramlington Library 7:30 - 8:30pm

October:

15th - Reading and Showing Off alongside Carol Clewrow @ Teesside University (Darlington Campus)

17th - Reading and Hanging About @ WORDplay, the Whitley Bay Book Fesitval.

24th - Hanging Around, Chatting and Signing @ Durham Literary Festival, Durham University Student Union.

Yus, that's right. Look at me all at Durham Festival, sharing a tent with Tony Horne and the far lovelier Valerie Laws.

Impressed much?