A Chicken Nugget A Day Keeps Justice Away
I have been forced. Yes, forced to come out of blog hibernation to comment on the latest scandal to hit the UK. God knows I have been tempted multiple times in the last few years to comment on some of the insane things happening in the UK and in the world, but sadly, life has just thrown too many curve balls at me. But today, I can take no more – I cannot keep my mouth shut any longer over the insanity that is rearing its ugly head in the UK. And what has been my breaking point? Chicken nuggets. Yep. Chicken nuggets. Apparently, British nuggets are so darn tasty that no chicken nuggets elsewhere in the world can compare (or specifically Albania), and that
My Nominees for the US and UK Elections and Other Waffle
It’s the early hours of the morning, and I have had a large gin… Late-night alcohol is always a good recipe for writing gibberish. And I have not written gibberish for a while on my blog as I have been busy writing gibberish for my MA in Comedy Writing. Which I recently passed with a distinction. Yay! Yes, it transpires that even academics can be fooled into thinking gibberish is genius. Excellent. So anyway, I have written two sitcoms, a short film, a sketch show and a comedy-drama pilot for a series. Now, I have to see if I can get a producer or broadcaster interested in one or more of them. That’s the tricky part. Still, there’s a certain satisfaction in having written them
Less is More (well that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it)
I’ve been practising my haikus, which you may recall, I’m not particularly good at. However, I wanted to address the woke issue in a concise, meaningful way as it is such a serious matter for discussion and particularly relevant to me as a comic writer. Which, if you know me, translates as: 1) I’m too lazy to write a long analytical post. And 2) I’d rather watch a movie and eat tortilla chips. However, I feel obliged to say my part. So here goes, and I am pleased to say that in the writing of the following haiku, I broke my own speed record! 45 seconds. Awesome. I might get 2 movies in tonight. Ok, here goes with the haiku. Man, I’m so fed up
Sixteen Years On
So this post is just going to be a stream of possibly (wildly erratic) thoughts. So hang on to your breeches; we could go anywhere with them. Cripes, I only managed three posts last year. And I call myself a writer? Pathetic! Though, to be fair to me, almost everyone who was blogging with me in 2007/8 no longer blogs or blogs even less than I do now. A few later blogs are still going, so kudos to those writers because it is difficult finding time and inspiration when life gets in the way. I have actually now been writing this blog for sixteen years. Oh. Dear. God. Just think of all that crap out there on the Internet for my kids to read
Are You Having A Laugh?
An ex-secret service agent with a personality problem and a desire for imperial glory. An aged president who looks like he’s got a giant fork prong stuck up his arse to keep him upright. A floppy-haired bumbling classics graduate with a predisposition for crass decisions. A tinpot dictator who showcases his weapons like a movie trailer. A comedian who has found himself elevated to global status. If the world wasn’t on the brink of war this surely would be the cast list of a first-class situation comedy.
What Happened to My Wine Gums?
Since my post earlier last night, I’ve been sorting my books and CDs, which until recently have been still packed in my basement in my new home. The basement (or glorified cellar if you wish) was one of the attractions of my new home – providing a place where I could hoard all my crap. I don’t use the word “crap” lightly, as it would indeed be crap to most people. However, I rather like hanging onto my personal crap. Most of which is a multitude of books. Of course, my books were about the only things the Ex didn’t request in the divorce settlement, so I still have them. Then again, maybe that’s not surprising given his reading material mainly consisted of car manuals
Timely Reflections
Contrary to my post last year saying I was back in the writing business, my time writing on my blog has been limited. Mainly that’s because after moving home, I started a new job with a national charity which subsequently sucked up all my time and energy. It left very little time for me to pursue my MA where I was not totally exhausted. So several weeks ago, I made the decision to leave so I could do myself justice in my MA. I was offered a part-time job in the cultural sector, which I accepted. The next day Russia invaded Ukraine. Several weeks later and 4 days into my new job, I’ve concluded I made the right decision even though a part-time job means
Birdsong to Wokesong
Many years ago, I read Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks. It’s a terrific, emotive book that now sits on school syllabuses alongside other past literary masterpieces. If you’ve not read it then you’ve missed out. Anyhow, a few years later, whilst at The Cheltenham Literary Festival (a very prominent cultural affair in the UK), I happened to see Sebastian Faulks close up. I was climbing the stairs to take my seat early for his forthcoming talk, and to my surprise, I saw him seated in a room off the stairwell. He glanced up, and we looked at each other for a moment, and then I carried on walking up the stairs. I suspect he was wondering if I recognised him and whether I was going to
And so I return…
The lights have been out on this blog for over a year, but now, at last, I return. I do so to remember what creative writing is like and unlock the key to my imagination. Where else better to do that than here, where my journey began 14 years ago. So, with a glass of gin in hand, let me begin. So first, there are two subjects to cover. Although I shall probably only cover them briefly here, it is almost impossible not to mention them. They are Covid 19 and my divorce. No doubt I will return to them again in due course. Fortunately, my immediate and extended family and I have been unaffected by Covid except in small, recoverable doses. But, regrettably, a
Ebook of Fantasia is Free on Kindle
My short story Fantasia is free to download as an ebook on Kindle for five days. Please feel free to share with friends and anyone who might be interested. It’s already gone to no 1 in the free children’s environment with just a few downloads. It would be lovely to see it there a little longer. Any reviews would be most welcome!
Bad Poetry 2: A Tale of Terrible Misfortune
There was a buffoon called Johnson Who thought he was Charles Bronson But he fucked-up Brexit So attempted to exit Dressed as a woman in Labour Unfortunately for Boris No one was fooled by “Doris” So he pulled out a gun Broke into a run But was caught in the commons by Keir Starmer “But… but…. but, Boris stuttered “Brexit is oven-ready. And buttered!” “Don’t give me that clap-trap, You’re just a tabloid hack And as thick as a brain-dead lama” As Boris started to weep and plead Keir pulled out a writ and began to read “I don’t need no fancy prose Let’s pelt him with tomatoes And leave him for the Tories to dismember!” But out of the throng
What’s in a name?
It is more than likely I will change my name in the very near future which will no doubt please my husband and his family. However, I will be probably be keeping Turley as a pseudonym for my comedy writing since I’ve been writing under it for over a decade. So, I am afraid my ex is just going to have live with the potential of my embarrassing him. Oh dear. What a pity! Initially, I plan to use my new name in my private life only, but it’s possible I might use it for my planned crime writing. It depends on how I feel at the time. Of course, I have thought about reverting to my maiden name or another family name which makes
Three Glasses of Wine leads to Bad Poetry
Yes, I have had three glasses of wine as I am off work for a few days as I am self-isolating prior to a minor medical procedure. I am, therefore, feeling a little ribald. So, I decided to write a poem. Now, before some of my lovely American readers go apeshit, please remember this a comedy blog (even if it has been slightly lacking in humour for a while.) As a consequence, the poem is in my usual eloquent style which required some deep thought for all of 5 minutes. Here we go: There was an old man called Trump Who had a particularly small lump For a brain He lost an election Got a floppy erection And was never seen or heard of Again.
Talking About Faces
A few months ago I was generously given a phone as mine kept dying on me and the battery was one of those irreplaceable ones. I duly set-up facial recognition in addition to a password. Unfortunately, since then it has only recognised my face… maybe once. I can’t decide whether on the day I set it up I was looking astonishing gorgeous or completely hideous… or perhaps like a female version of Boris Johnson. I think Boris and I have a lot in common at the moment. He looks completely shagged-out running the country during the pandemic and the Brexit crisis; I looked completely shagged-out through the stress of my elongated divorce. We both look our ages of 55. I used to look ten years
A Boot in the Face
On Wednesday I had a meeting with my solicitor, a pensions actuary and my husband’s barrister. I had been told to expect my husband and his solicitor in the virtual meeting room. (Yes, that’s right. Over 4 years since my separation I still don’t have a Decree Absolute and still no financial settlement. Consequently, life is very difficult for myself and my sons.) The meeting was scheduled for 12pm to suit my husband’s requirements. However, he didn’t turn up and no apologies were made. Instead, he sent his barrister rather than his solicitor. Of course, the reason my husband didn’t turn up is that he is too afraid to face me himself. Too afraid I will call him out in front of other professionals. Anyway,
