Hitting 'Refresh'

They say a change is as good as a rest, and I find change very refreshing. Yep, it it can be a little scary sometimes but there's nothing like a change in routine or scenery or even a major life change to shake up the mind and start to see things from a new perspective.

A lot of things have changed for me in the past couple of years. I can't say it's developed my skills as a writer but it's made me feel more able to do it. It's been a little traumatic at times, I won't lie. Divorce is pretty crappy. But sometimes these things need to happen to refresh the mind and put you in a new place.

From a writing perspective I think as many new experiences are necessary to help develop. For me writing isn't just about how well written the prose is, but having something to say, something new or in a new way. So with this in mind all the things that happen are being filed down to experience and I think about this in a positive way as it helps keep me going. It's a useful mindset and stops my head from entering the oven.

So. The odd click of 'refresh' on life is good. Too many times and it's just waiting for something to happen and becomes annoying. Think of the crappy times as material, as writerly experience and one day it may come in useful.

Read More

Unintentional spaces

I have lots of spaces. In my notebooks. I buy them, start them and then when I have sullied the first few pages with my scrawls I start a new one. I always have plenty of new ones because I buy so many. I tend not to buy expensive ones, I've done that before and they stay completely empty. I am not one of those people I envy who can calculate what they need to say and then scribe it on to their sheets of paper in perfect handwriting. My handwriting looks like it's been done by two different people, with their feet. I constantly self edit too, so my scratchings are then scribbled out, with lots of little arrows and random word choices to insert teetering above others. I then start the whole paragraph again underneath and try to make it look neat but do the same again.I envy neat people who have lovely notebooks.

 I do like to write on my laptop as this makes it look presentable as I can just delete things. I find I get into a state of flow better with a notebook though,  while I'm pottering about or watching the arguing couples and awkward first dates in Costa. As I have mentioned in previous posts I don't have the longest of attention spans anyway so when I see a new notebook I convince myself that it simply isn't necessary to fill up the others. I justify this by only buying cheap notebooks anyway, so I'm drowning in books full of spaces. But it's ok. This means when I need to write something down quickly I dig up something I wrote two years ago and think to myself, "Did I write that?" it's quite a nice feeling really. I always know it was me that wrote it, there's no way anyone else is that messy. I want neat writing in lovely notebooks, but it's never going to happen.  The disappointment in my own penmanship means there will always be spaces.

Notebooks that I found on my desk space. I didn't dare get the others.

Read More

What's that there? It's mine I found it, finders keepers. No you can't have it, it's mine, get off.

I 'found' this while looking through old blog posts;

I'll tell you a tale of a man

he began to imagine he could put a little bit of his soul into these paper models, give them life

BAM! a curdle of new poetry is born

Hell, we go in hook, line and sinker for the bugger

a plan was made and the evolution of the Dead Good Poets had begun

Make your ears large and pointy (ideal for hearing red-hooded little girls)

Resolve to be nice to small children even if they stink of poo

Avoid eye contact

when I stand up at the next DGP meeting

assume I'm overdosing on mince pies and turkey sandwiches

Read More

Milestone

This week will see us reach 1,000 posts on the Dead Good Blog.  In celebration of that fact, the current bloggers will be creating found poetry using snippets from our favourite past posts. 

It goes without saying that I am just as proud of this blog today as I was in June 2011 when the first post went live.  Since then, we have seen an abundant variety of inspiring and surprising posts on poetry, for the most part, and writing in general.  I want to take this opportunity to say thank you to everyone who has ever written, or commented, for us and express my desire that the blog should stretch on for another 1,000 posts as it continues to engage readers and writers across the world.

Here is my found poem.  If you click on any line you will find yourself transported to a piece of imaginative blogging.  Enjoy!

 

One Thousand

Something to a few,
a woman whose life was a mess

before the bitterness

do I starve this year?

Come hold me now
come see the sun
come stand with me

lay down the tracks

From a wild sky painted furious

crumpled metal objects

the brass blasts of the Salvation band

hear the horses coming closer, see the gallons of blood

twisting grey

tunnels, stale urine light and a voice

like dandelion seeds

that warns of gaps

This is the light to live in

Thinking

I could bring him to life with nothing more than hope

and the power of my own mind

religion and fecking psychics

they weren’t my first choice
not my intention

You will be left wearing pants

being trodden underfoot

Rabbit holes lead to burrows
and gardens aren’t a secret

The place we lay when no more days to give

it won’t be sad.

Read More

White

This weeks theme is white. White is a colour that means a lot to me. I'd like to share a memory.

I sit with toast and tea despite my stomach's morning sickness rejection of it. Toddler giggles float through the room and calmness sits at my feet. A knock. Excited bounciness follows me down the hall to the door. A policeman in black and yellow stands at the step. "Granny!" chirps my little one to my mother as she walks up the path.  She is fidgety but in control.  They come in and I am asked to sit down. The police officer's words fly into my ears and buzz like bees into my mind. But I don't cry. I am not sad. I am not shocked. It doesn't hurt, and I don't know why. But the buzzing stays. They leave and I clear away my dishes. I can't remember his face. I don't cry but I am frightened. I go upstairs to my photograph album, but there is none of him. His face is gone. But I remember his hair, short and cleanly white. It's all I can remember. It soothes me.

Now I can remember. Time has moved and the buzzing which took my memory of him has gone. I have a part of him now. Reams of little white wires poke through the dark and they still soothe.

Read More

Anonymity

Anonymity can help us reach out to the world with our innermost thoughts and feel freer for doing so. Behind a mask we don't have to worry about repercussions and can present ourselves however we like without feeling obligated to fulfil social expectations. When writing, a pseudonym can free us from the type of work usually expected from us. It can give us the freedom to express ourselves fully without threat to how we are perceived as a writer or a person. We can try new ways of writing, new genres, and put it out there to see how we are received.

JK Rowling considered publishing her first adult novel A Casual Vacancy under a pseudonym in order to separate herself from the Harry Potter series and break into the adult market. The reviews for this book were mixed despite it reaching number 1 in Amazon book sales within hours of release. It would have been interesting if she had used a pseudonym, to see whether it would have reached those sales in that time scale without her name on the cover. Rowling's success as an adult author can not be accurately gauged because of what came before. Her name has given her a status as a writer that will always ensure she is spoken about. Whether people like her adult books or not they will still buy them. She will always sell books. Her name has become a commodity more than anything else, which is sad and I do think that it's such a shame she never released her new novel without that. She saw her lack of anonymity as 'brave', but I disagree. It would have been far braver to release something without any expectations from the public, to see how they genuinely viewed it.


However anonymity on the internet can be a bit crap. People remove any vestiges of how they would speak to people in the flesh. In company if our political beliefs disagree then we agree to disagree if the discussion goes nowhere. Maybe we'll call them a dick to our partner on the way home but usually we are polite unless they are an outrageously offensive arsehole. Then we might call them that. If there's wine involved. But online this barrier of social politeness is removed almost completely. If someone is wrong THEN THEY MUST KNOW THEY ARE WRONG. All sorts of expletives, name calling and shizzle goes on.We might re-assess how we speak to someone on Facebook, but a random on the internet usually gets full qwerty throttle. The /B/ page on 4Chan is an example of how anonymity can stir up some incredibly creative, but also eye-wateringly nasty stuff. Don't google that if you don't have brain bleach handy. They created pedobear. But they did create LOLCats, and probably started the internet cat craze, so it's not all bad.



So, anonymity.  I've not really made my mind up yet. Good bits, bad bits. Pretty much like everything. I'll be here on the fence, whistling and pretending I'm invisible.

Read More

Addressing your audience

As writer we need to know who we are writing for. Personally I write for children. Many people think children's writing is a watered down version of adult writing, but this is not the case. It's probably more difficult to write for children than to write for adults. Why? Because you not only have to write something that appeals to children, but to their parents. It doesn't matter how much a child wants to read your book, it's going to go nowhere unless the one who holds the cash is willing to part with it. Adults have completely different ideas about what children should read than children do, they look for educational aspects, they censor and they may refuse to buy a book if they feel it encourages bad behaviour in their child. There are also those adults who buy gifts for children who want them to read something they would like to have read when they were little, which may be very different to what a child nowadays wants to read. Plus there are libraries to consider, they can be very selective with what they feel children should be reading. With picture books adults will look for something that they can tolerate when they have it requested for the 23rd time that day.  

Children on the other hand run a mile if they even sniff a tiny bit of educational material in there. They want to rebel, and to be entertained. They want to escape in the fictional bad behaviour of their protagonists to escape the rigid adult controlled world they live in. Learn stuff? Ha, nope. They have some kind of weird anti-didactic radar. You have to sneak it in. Again very difficult to do.

So in children's books there is a dual audience to write for, both the child and the adult.  This isn't a case of crossover fiction, which is even more difficult to consciously do. Every children's book has to consider a dual audience if it wants to be published. I'm not saying that you have to consider the adult audience too much, just be aware of it when writing.

Don't underestimate children either. Difficult concepts are good. Children don't like to be patronised, you can simplify but don't avoid things, children are people too. In a project at Uni we gathered 2 groups of school children separately and has a discussion about Anne Fine's 'Up on cloud 9'. This is a book which tackles attempted suicide and depression. The 12 year old group's views on what was happening in the book didn't differ greatly from the 14 year old group, the only difference was that the 12 year old group thought they didn't know what was happening in the book when they actually did.

It's a tricky business this writing for children lark. Wish me luck.

Read More

Family

Ah, families, those little dysfunctional bundles that both influence and surround us. Source of pain and joy. And endless laughter. My youngest son Isaac is a complete bundle of energy, inquisitiveness, bad behaviour and source of belly-laughs. I plan to record the majority of it in photographs to use at his wedding when he grows up.

Things my four year old Isaac has done that have made me laugh despite trying to be cross;

Covered himself in printer ink from head to toe, including his hair. He wanted to be Batman.

Drawn a full picture of Santa and a snowman trotting up to a house at Christmas. In Sharpie n my bedroom wall.

Made snow angels. In washing powder on the kitchen floor.

Told my mum that she had to go to his dads one day as he can do something really good and she'd really like it. Take his false teeth out.

Shouted "Look at that little man! He's a midget!" as we passed a gentleman of short stature whilst getting off the bus right in front of his face.

Stuck a sanitary towel on my foot as a "plaster".

There are loads more I will probably remember when I've posted this but for all he needs to be watched like a hawk his character never fails to cheer me up. When I feel sad he gives me a "feel better" cuddle. Makes it all worth every second of wiping lipstick off the walls, removing whole rolls of toilet rolls from the toilet and finding new art on my walls. Children, the ultimate comedy act.

Read More

The FEAR

As a nervous person I live in a perpetual state of fear, particularly as a writer. I fear that whatever I write isn't going to be good enough, that it is never good enough. I used to write for my own enjoyment as a teen, nowadays I feel a little paralysed by it. When I get into the right conditions for it though, my enjoyment comes back, and I get that thrill again that I used to. 

Workshops, coursework and actually forcing myself to do it put me in the position of actually enjoying it again. But reading it out in front of people? Erk. I find it terrifying, a little like baring my soul to everyone for it to be picked at. I recently read something quite close to my heart at the last DGP open mic, and scared as I was, it did help me. I received a lot of feedback about my writing, and the majority of it helpful. It also put me in the position to read my work as it would be to a new reader. You know that feeling you get when your house is a tip and you see it through a guest's eyes as soon as they walk through the front door? It's a little like that. It showed me massive gaping areas in my work and helped me make it better. So yes, although I was so afraid I was shaking, it helped my work. As the old cliche says, feel the fear and do it anyway. But don't post it on t'interwebs, those folk are ruthless. 

Read More

Springy stuff

As I walked my little chimps to school this morning I looked around me at the gardens bursting into life and pondered a bit. Then pondered some more. Then felt happy because it was spring. Spring is where I come to life, after being a grump all winter as it's freezing and damp. I watched the little daffodils standing bright and tall and thought to myself, they don't let a bit of cold weather get them down, they make their merry way through the soil regardless of what the weather man says at the same time each year. They don't moan about their electricity bills, how much baked beans cost these days they just burst up like little bubbles of happiness ready to brighten everything around them. Their smiley little heads bobbing side to side in the breeze wondering if the little kids on the school run are going to decapitate them and give their heads to their mums. Yes they don't last too long but they'll always come back next year.  Daffodils, and spring, make me smile and give me that burst forward into the future, that lovely optimism that makes me think yes, life is going to be good. They aren't just plants that produce a lovely flower, they are fearless, relentless little soldiers lined up across gardens everywhere, saying "Bring it on, I can take whatever you've got." Daffodils are good.

Read More

Like a roll of Bounty in a swimming pool

Absorption. I think this can be applied to writing. I think it's important to read widely and sometimes randomly. Every writer's work is different, but it is good to digest lots of different authors to see what works for you as a reader, and as a writer. The subconscious is a funny old thing, and we really don't know quite how it all works yet. Because we aren't conscious of it. Obviously. But the things we read don't just disappear I'm sure. I'm the most random of people who will get ideas and not know where the hell they have come from, but clearly my subconscious has scurried away to find something useful and splurt it out at the right moment. I attended a workshop yesterday where the creative process was mentioned, and it was likened to a state where we could just freely relax and let our subconscious do the work for us, and for many, including me that is the case. In the right environment I can sit and write and surprise myself at what comes out. If we can get into the state of 'flow' where it comes easily and prolifically then that is an amazing feeling, almost a state of play for me.

But the subconscious needs something to work with, and this is where reading widely comes in. We might think it's trash but it's worth reading to find out why it compels people to read it. It all is absorbed into the subconscious and may come in handy in the future, if nothing else to know what's already been done, what to avoid and what gives a story teeth. Read beautiful prose, read poetry, read trash, it can bubble away in there and come up with something unique. But trust it. Your conscious is for the editing process, and that can come later, when the playing is finished.

But this doesn't just apply to reading. Like an artist learns to 'see' the world in a different way to paint it we have to look at things closely in a new way, describe things with words in a way an artist would paint a scene. To avoid clichéd

writing we have to try and find a new way of describing what we see without verging into the old purple prose. There lies the tricky bit. It's worth it when it comes together though.

It's amazing how much the subconscious can actually absorb. I'm not a puritan, a bit of rubbish is good, just so you know what's out there. I'm not sure you need to actually feed it in any other way than just exposing yourself to more. Even if it feels uncomfortable it's got to be worth something, be absorbed and give something more to your work.

So if my writing seems grammatically incorrect at times, or a bit scatty, trail off somewhere else, it's just that I've tired myself out playing too much to tidy up afterwards. Note to self: Stop being lazy.

Read More

Purple Valentine B*llocks

It's coming to that time of year again on Friday. Valentines day, where we're supposed to love our significant other a bit more and lavish them with lots of hearts, red stuff and Hallmark sentimentality. When really if you love someone then perhaps you should show them throughout the rest of the year. Cynical, moi? I'm not one for over sentimentality for the sake of it. That's not to say I am not emotional, I just don't like buying tat and overpriced cards for a sickeningly cloying rhyme. It all seems a little impersonal. An ex of mine told me he spent ages looking through the card shops for 'the perfect verse which said how I feel.' Yes I'm an ungrateful moo but I'd much rather he'd have just written something for me himself, rhyme or not, it didn't have to be sentimental or glowing purple just personal.

Anyway, I digress as usual. Purple prose, I think I've been guilty of it before when I started writing. It's a rite of passage as a writer for some. But it helps when you can identify it. If it's detracting from the message it's almost certainly purple. If it's grandiose and full of too many cliches, it's purple. If it is full of words you frantically changed for a more complicated word, then it's irritating as hell as well as purple. Good description doesn't need complex language to create a picture for the reader, quite the opposite. That's not to say complicated words aren't useful, when it takes the place of several others or no other one will do. But don't send your reader to hunt for a dictionary every other word. It's off putting and you can easily lose the reader.

I think this competition has been mentioned on the blog before but It's worth a go just to get your writing muscles going. The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction (Bulwer Lytton) contest is a competition to challenge you to come up with the most dreadful overwritten introduction to a story. Once you can force yourself to do what you're not supposed to, it then becomes easier to identify when editing your other work. There are examples of previous winners on the site as well as the history of the contest.

But this Valentines day, purple or not, write something personal for your other half. Just go for it. It will be your words with your own feelings, not an off the shelf one size fits all rhyme. I bet it goes down better than the Hallmark verses of purple vomit.

Read More

Connecting the dots...

This weeks theme and the theme for Friday's poetry event is connections. On Saturday I attended the monthly workshop run by the Lancashire Dead Good Poets which was around this theme. Taken By Steve and Michelle, we were asked to collaborate in a writing exercise to come up with some words which were loosely connected. Each participant was asked to start with a word and the word was then passed to each of the other participants to contribute a word they felt was connected with the previous word. When our word arrived back with us complete with a list of new ones we were asked to use this word. We repeated the exercise until we each had 5 new words, each indirectly connected to the first and asked to use all five in a piece of writing. There were some great responses to this challenge, and each very unique to the writer's own style. My words were;

Beard
Caravan
Rules
Cover
Alice

It was a challenge but I managed to put together this rough piece, showing that even seemingly unrelated words can be connected to form a piece of poetry or prose;

Old wooden caravans lined the field. Greying grain peeped through the bright paint. Families queued outside each, disinterested. I took my place outside the first wooden box. A list of rules greeted each visitor; "No touching the exhibits, No Smoking, Do not speak to the exhibits." I wrapped my coat tightly against the chill wind. Finally I reached the entrance and its meagre cover. A man with a cigarette and a grin ushered me forward. "Prepare yourself for a sight rarely seen, a wonder that will dazzle and amaze. One of the last wonders of the world. Alice, The Bearded Lady." The door opened with a squeak to show a blonde woman complete with stubble scrolling through Facebook on a mobile phone.

I really enjoyed this exercise and it helped me connect where there were seemingly no connections. Advice from Steve encouraged me to look for ways to put together this piece from where any human connection can be possible, from one person to the next, and to again create a connection to the reader with writing. With these words I have created a connection from my mind to yours as I create a picture with words so that you can also see what I imagine.

Workshops run once a month the Saturday before each poetry even, which is the first Friday of every month. I encourage you to come along and try some new ways of writing and connect with other writers. You never know what you might come up with. :)

Read More

How do you like them apples?

How many apples?

Well? Do you know? I don't. There might be three, or four. Probably just one though. Apples are good.

One apple hit Isaac Newton on the bonce which caused the inspiration for the theory of gravity.

Sometimes ideas are hidden deep in the subconscious and need a jolt to get them out, sometimes they need a workshop to tease them out, and sometimes they jump out and slap you when you're in the shower all naked and vulnerable and don't have a pen and paper. Unless you do and water drips all over it and makes it splodgy.  Can't take the laptop in there, oh no that's asking for trouble with their electric funny business.

There are probably lots of different ways to generate good ideas, each working differently for everyone. I use a couple, a prompt or a challenge is always good.

Such as this week's theme, how many apples? Hey it might not be very good but I got a blog post out of it.

For a much better way of generating ideas come along to this week's LDGP workshop on Saturday morning at Blackpool Central Library, I'm sure you can do better than I have.

Read More

Editing the Great Writers - e e cummings

Read More

Ambition achieved

 by Ashley Lister

 I’ve always been a fan of Stephen King’s writing. Ever since I first read The Dead Zone, back in the very early eighties, I admired his writing style and I wanted to do what he did. It was my ambition to write a good story that genuinely scared someone.

I have never thought it was an unachievable ambition. A good romance can touch the reader’s heart. A good thriller can make the reader’s pulse go faster. A good erotic story can affect the reader’s cheeky bits. And a good horror story can make the reader genuinely scared of things that don’t exist in the real world.

Earlier this year the Dead Good Poets contributed to the Haunted Blackpool Project. I’ve already spoken about Haunted Blackpool, and the fun I had being involved in the project. Details of the book launch associated with the project can be found here.

I wrote a story for this project entitled ‘The Headless Boggart of Whitegate Drive.’ It’s a story based on local legend. Eerily, it’s story number thirteen in the book.

One of the other contributors to the book, Anne Ward, gave a copy of the book to a friend of hers in hospital. Anyone who’s ever spent any time in hospital will probably remember the value of all reading material to help stave away the boredom. Anne’s friend read all thirteen stories and poems and she said she enjoyed them immensely.

Then she went down for her operation. After being dosed up with premeds she said, “Don’t let him near me.”  She was pointing at the surgeon. “Don’t let him near me,” she insisted. “He doesn’t have a head!”

And, when Anne told me this story on Tuesday night, I sat back in my chair, I smiled smugly and I thought: “Ambition achieved.”

Read More

Haunted Blackpool

Halloween came around quick this year didn’t it? I love it, the dressing up, the spooky atmosphere and the fun. I particularly like the ghost stories. I’ve always loved telling them or listening to them. I don’t believe in ghosts, but there’s a place in me which would like to, which allows me to still appreciate the delicious fear they evoke. It’s hard to find a good scary ghost story or spooky story these days, all the films seem to disappoint but there have been some great stories and poems I have heard this year thanks to Steve Stroud. Steve ran a project involving the Dead Good Poets to create the most chilling tales of Blackpool. These are free for all to see, projected on eerie dummies in the illuminations this year. It’s the ideal place to be on Halloween.

Steve also has compiled and edited these stories creating a book which we launch next week on Halloween night, where contributors will be reading their short, snappy and very scary ghost stories and poetry. I’m chuffed to be included in the contributors, with my story The Depths. I also have a few illustrations in there. 

Everyone is welcome.  How else would you want to spend Halloween? With crap so called scary films on the telly? Ignoring the doorbell every five minutes while terrors come to the door? Or a real, old school scary story evening, complete with the authors? Some of these could be true stories. This is a truly unique event, not to be missed. Come along and see us, we’ll be in fancy dress just to add to the atmosphere.  It’s at 6pm on The Cliffs at Queens Promenade. Funnily enough, it’s not far from the Promenade lift , where my story is set. Facebook event is here;

Haunted Blackpool

This will probably be my last post on Dead Good Blog for a little while, I need time to focus on my MA at the moment and my little family, but I am hoping to be back after Christmas. Goodbye for now, hope to see you on the 31st.

Read More

The Lake District will become a sea if it doesn't stop raining soon.

 

The first time I went to the lakes on holiday I was 14. It was a camp with a local youth group (Louise Barklam my best mate and fellow BDGP member was there too). I’d never been hill walking or done any activities like that before so it was all new to me. Canoeing I gibbered and sobbed because I was terrified of tipping under the water. The sods made people WALK ON MY CANOE in some 'fun' activity where we all had to run across them. Evil, evil people. I was oozing snot and everything. We looked at a stone circle at Castlerigg which made me write loads of crappy fiction about magic stone circles for the next year which I thought would get me published. I haven’t got any copies of that thankfully or I’d probably cringe so much I’d turn inside out.

  We went on a lovely midnight walk. Well it was beautiful when I reached the top of the hill, but I fell over constantly on the way up because I was 14 and didn’t want to wear my glasses. Myopic and in the dark I ended up chinning the dirt quite regularly. We even climbed a mountain. The highest one in the Lakes. I was a little townie from Central Drive, very small for my age that ate mainly chips and never even walked to school. My feet hurt, I ached all over. But when we reached the top of Helvellyn something happened. I can't describe it. Halfway up I'd had to cling to slate bits to pass an area of craggy steepness and was in a state of terror because I'd stupidly looked down. Snot again. But when I reached the top I can't describe the effect the sight of the landscape had on me.  A photo just isn’t the same, every step was worth it.  The colours, the presence of the mountains and lakes around evokes a peaceful state of mind. It’s easy to see how poets and artists are inspired by the Lake District. Can they capture the magic? I doubt completely, but they can stir our memories of the place and so we can relive it.

When the rain stops (I'm optimistic) I might just go back.

 

Read More

Red stuff.

What can I say about the colour red?

A dash of red on a monochrome background creates a beautiful and intense image.

Spots of red on the skin can indicate illness.

Bright red lips hint at sexual availability.

Red spiders look more dangerous than brown ones.

Red spilled blood creates panic.

Red trousers can be found on the site ‘Look at my f**king red trousers’

Red lights mean stop.

Red leaves usher in the autumn.

Red poppies mean respect.

That’s it I suppose.

Read More

Pirates are bad people mmmmkay?

Arrrrr. The only form of piracy not covered this week I think is internet piracy. I have no desire to get into a debate about that really, that sounds like no fun at all.

Pirates are not as threatening as they used to be are they though? They are comical little characters who shout “Arrr, me hearties” a lot and carry parrots on their shoulders. I’m sure those who have been robbed by genuine pirates in the past few years can vouch for the fact that they are actually scary ruthless criminals. Who will kill you if they need to. They might not make you walk the plank but they might stab you. Or shoot you.

 Like highwaymen they have become romanticised and caricatures of what they once were. They are the stuff of children’s books. Children dress up in pirate costumes. Would you let a 5 year old dress up as Fred West? I probably would for a laugh but most people wouldn’t, it’s a bit weird. But they think nothing of popping an eye patch on them and encouraging them to wield a cutlass. Which is actually a really big sharp knife for cutting people with. And making them dead.

I remember a film from when I was a lot younger called The Fog. I think it was written by Stephen King. It was obviously quite scary. The fog would descend on a seaside village and with it brought death to anyone caught in it. And guess what was in the Fog we find out near the end? Pirates. Scary ones, proper villainous murderous pirates who cut people to bits. Bring back the scary ones please.

Read More