“Don’t read this in a public place, you won’t be able to stop yourself laughing out loud. It reminds me of Douglas Adams, the careful plotting mixed with those absurdities and jokes that sneak up and make you snort tea through your nose. Hilarious.” Goodreads.

What if you really were the centre of the universe?

Norman Mi’s house is shrinking. He’s sure of it.

But that’s the least of his problems, even if he doesn’t realise it yet. There’s also the odd time dilation effects at the office, the invisible spiders that no one else can see, and the eccentric neighbours who insist on eating his bacon sandwiches.

In spite of all of this, Norman is a completely average man; a man so bland he would disappear in the middle of Ikea. The trouble is, Norman doesn’t want to be an average man, he wants to be unique, he wants to be somebody, and he wants to amount to something.

And he’s about to get exactly what he wants; whether it’s good for him or not.

Normalverse is the first part of a trilogy about normality and pan-galactic rent disputes.

You can buy it now on Amazon, because you want to.

You can even buy it now on Google Play, also because you want to.

My Favourite Words

I love words, and find anyone who doesn’t uniquely odd. There’s something delicious about rolling the word ‘loquacious’ around your mouth, like cleansing the palette with a Sprite after a chomp on a tasty burger. So, for your delectation, here’s a list of some of my favourite words.

Bumface (noun): Most people, meant in a friendly way, but sometimes deemed an insult by those who do actually have bums for faces. Like you.

Tittybiscuit (noun): see Bumface.

FatLumpaFuck (adj.): Usually used to describe one’s reflection in a mirror, can also be used to mean one’s belly.

Profileration (verb): The feeling of utter despair when confronted with yet another profile form to fill in just so you can order a small adaptor for a thing that no longer works, or present yourself as a viable dating option to a wall of indifference.

Bacanus (verb): The art of stifling the urge to scratch your anus whilst looking at bacon in a supermarket.

Blubalub (verb): The noises one makes to fill the gaps between thoughts so that the existential despair can’t slip in and make the world so bleak that it’s unbearable. Also, the noise a fart makes in the bath.

The Smart of All Talk

Just got back from lunch with a Cambridge-based astronaut, a woman who gave up being an assassin in order to start her own plumbing business, and Peter Sissons. Needless to say, we had nothing to talk about.

It’s at times like this that I always wish I had a bag full of small talk ideas into which I can delve. So, in preparation for the next inevitable time that this happens, I’ve listed a few ideas for myself below. Help yourself if you need to.

WEETABIX OR WEMAIN? Should we leave the European Cereal Union, or do we gain more from being on the Cornflake Council? Make sure never to mention Shredded Wheat though. No-one likes that.

DID YOU WITNESS THE SPORTINGS? Say things like ‘Wenger doesn’t know how to win the backside of a cow’ or ‘The Denver Sombreros should change their racist name’ or ‘the trouble with modern footballists is their over-reliance on sarcastic tackles’.


HOUSE PRICING? Where do you even get one of those clicker clacker machines that stick little white labels with numbers on them? And how are you supposed to find the price tag of a three bedroom semi when there isn’t a standard place to tie it? Then sit back looking smug as you declare that your equity has quadrupled in the time it took to burp up a tiramisu. Then stare blankly into space as you realise the futility of a mortgage based economic system.

BIG STINKING JOBBIES? Play a game of who has the best jobs when secretly you all know none of you have. Say things that suggest your superiors are morons from outer space and if only you were better at your jobs you would be running the whole company. Do all this whilst writing the word BLEAK into your mashed sweet potato.

Never, NEVER question why the soup has been served in a child’s watering can, or why the chips came on a muddy spade.