Psst! Wanna gatecrash an Xmas party?

Do you?
Good, come over here and I’ll tell you about it.
No, no, no.
Quietly!
Don’t draw attention to yourself, we don’t want everyone to know, do we?
What do you mean, ‘Why not?
I’ll tell you why not – what about if her at number 33 heard about it and turned up too, eh? Her with the gammy leg and the boss eye, yes. You wouldn’t want to get trapped up a corner in polite conversation with her now would you? No, exactly. You know what she’s like, anything you say will be taken down and used in evidence against you. Nosey old bat!
And him from the local debating society. Can you imagine… Dear Lord, you’d never get a word in edge ways. Annoying git!
So let’s just keep it to ourselves, yeah?
O.k.
So, this do is at Southcart Books in Walsall.
Yes you do know it, it’s behind that new Poundland place they’ve just built.
Pardon?
Is it?
53b Lower Hall, Lane WS1 1RJ?
Well you obviously know the place better than I do then. Let’s face it it’s a long way from Dudley.
That’s the one, yes, run by Scott and Amy.
Well I heard that they’re putting on a bit of a do on Saturday 16th December between 11 and 4. There’ll be food and drink and everything. Even people telling stories and reciting poetry.
So anyway, I was thinking of going over and taking the Misty Books gang with me.

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Now the new book is out, yes. Have I mentioned that at all?
You’re sick of hearing about it?
Well I thought you might be pleased.
After all it follows on from DOGNAPPED! which I may have mentioned was a finalist in The People’s Book Prize earlier this year. And then there was IN THE DOGHOUSE of course which is coincidentally a year old now and of course the latest ON THE DOG WALK which I just got my hands on from the publisher.Image 19-12-2016 at 08.01
You can take your fingers out of your ears now, I’ve finished the promo.
I SAID YOU CAN TAKE YOUR FINGERS…
Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout but you did have your fingers…
What?
Yes. Ian R Ward has done the illustrations for the new book too and once again they’re fantastic.
Oh, you’re interested now then. Not a story person I take it, more of a picture looker.
Just as well they’re for kids then isn’t it.
Well now you’re asking they’re aimed between seven and eleven as rough guide, although a lot of folk seem to like the shared reading experience for younger kids.
There’s an Amazon link here so you can take a look. http://amzn.to/2e0GyRe
Of course they’ll be cheaper at Southcart but like I said, keep it to yourself, we don’t want everyone to know. They make great stocking fillers.
Yes I’ll sign it.
You want a what? A bookmark? Oh go on then.
I might even tell you a story, ‘Th’auld pol on th’ cut’, you like that one don’t you. Can I do what? ‘The Bard of Dudlay’. Surely you don’t want to hear that old chestnut again! You do? Oh, alright then, if you insist.
I’ll see you there then, on the 16th.
But don’t forget, keep it to yourself. Whatever you do don’t…
You did didn’t you.
I saw you just then.
Pressing the share button.
Bloody hell. I’ll have to tell them to order more sodding sausage rolls now!4a-300-copy24129986_2071662109729175_3232081706566700152_n

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Let Me Just Check…

As some of you no doubt know (and if not why not!? I’ve blogged about it enough) we’ve just got back from America. Well, not just, but recently enough for me not to have prepared any new blog posts lately  – that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. So here’s one that I did the first time we whizzed off to see Kate’s clan over in Huston back in 2015. As you’ll see there was a different guy in charge back then so I’m safe from abuse by Twitter if Nelly The Elephant doesn’t like this blog.

Pardon – oh, Nelly The Elephant? Trump, Trump, Trump. Really, don’t you pay attention to anything I write? I might as well delete all my previous blogs right now!

Anyway, as I was saying – obviously this time things went according to plan (yeah right, you know me too well!) but first time? Here is, Let Me Just Check…

…Yeah, passport, tickets all present and correct.
So, now I’ve just got to check in, on line – I’ve joined the technocological age.
What’s this? How many bags? I don’t bloody know, I ain’t finished packing yet! We’ll call it two eh? What’s the worst that could happen? Well they might not let me on the plane for a start. I better make sure there really is only sodding two then! I wonder where the passport is?
No, I’m not getting stressed.
Eddie Black said last night I ought to allow more time to get to Heathrow. He can’t possibly be right. Can he? Now what did I do with them tickets?
Hang on. What’s that muffled screaming sound?
Well perhaps I shouldn’t have packed Kate – I only wanted to make sure I knew where she was. That’s more than I can say for the passport and tickets! I’ll swear I had them only a few minutes ago.
She’s not happy! Apparently it was a bit cramped. That suitcase ain’t as big as it looks. Perhaps I put the tickets in there too. I’ll unpack it again and take a look.
Do I need those shorts? It’ll be hot. I’ve taken them out and put them back three times now. Can’t say I like wearing them, not really my style. But still, the passport may be in the pocket – I’d better take them.
No really, I’m not too stressed. I wonder where the tickets are?
She’s still going on. Honestly! I had to unpack her stuff to get her in the case. O.k. I was going to leave most of it behind  – does she really need more than two tee shirts! There are after all only two cases we can take now.
I wonder if she’s hidden my passport out of spite?
Thinking about it, who the hell wants to know how many cases I’m taking anyway. British Airways? The U.S. government? Barack bloody Obama? Perhaps he’s got the tickets!
There’s only twelve hours left to sort this mess out. If I say two cases, does it really mean two? Surely there must be a bit of leeway in the system! You know what they’re like in American immigration, I could end up on death row!
I swear I had my passport. I remember printing out the tickets. What was the problem with the old days when they sent them through the post? There was never all this cowing trouble!
NO I’M NOT FUCKING STRESSED!!!!!

Send the cavalry

So I’ve swapped Misty and Milly for a couple of weeks for their American cousins. That’s Henry (the small white one) and Murphy (the bigger brown one).


Pardon?
I don’t think that they bark with American accents, no.

Anyway… Sorry, what!?

No they don’t walk on the wrong side of the path either. And before you start again let’s not get into the whole potato, potarto/ tomato, tomarto argument o.k. We’d be here all day.

As I was about to say, I’ve been taking the lads out for a walk. In the morning, when it’s cooler – sorry, I just had to get that dig in. Is it raining back home? Oh dear!

But. And as so many things are over here, this is a big BUT. No, with one ‘T’, dear – there is a difference. Can I carry on now? Thank you.

But, when me and the girls go out in dear old Blighty we usually venture down the cut – oh, apologies again, that’s a Black Country phrase meaning ‘along the canal towpath’ – the most dangerous thing we are likely to encounter is a slightly miffed duck, annoyed because we haven’t brought it some bread.

Here in Fulshear, Texas, the new housing estates tend to be surrounded by water. Like a moat around a castle. And very picturesque it is too. Egrets stand by the bank looking all, well egrety actually, the banks are lush green grass, fountains fount. Lovely.


Hold on. What’s this? A sign. Let’s just take a look… WTF!


I thought those ripples in the middle were a bit big for any sort of fish I’ve ever seen the fishermen of England drag out of the Staffordshire and Worcester canal. And although the grass is neatly trimmed for the first foot or so, isn’t that long grass a bit too close to the path? Dogs don’t hiss over here, do they? And what ‘other wild life’? Mice? Raccoons? Grizzly’s? The sign’s not very specific is it. I mean I went to Alaska once and believe you me bears really do shit in the woods. I came across some (bear shit not bears). It was still steaming. It was probably still steaming in the extremely short period of time it took me to hurtle back to a place of safety.

Well, I mean! Honestly! These are new estates. What are they trying to do? It must be the modern day equivalent of getting the covered wagons into a defensive circle in case of attack and the 7th cavalry aren’t around for protection. Any enemy of note isn’t about to come crawling through the grass to pinch the barbecue while you’re not looking are they? No one’s likely to swim across the lake to have an illicit bounce on your trampoline are they?

And what if poor Fido goes missing. Slips out of the back gate or a hole in the fence in the middle of the night. Are you going to go looking? Too right – nor me matey! One wrong move could be fatal. Stick your foot in a puddle accidentally and the next thing you know you’re doing the death roll tango with a ten foot reptile! The only thing you’ll find of your best friend the next day is a tuft of fur and some frightened poo. Leave well alone, that’s what I say.

Next time me and the boys go out hiking I shall take a lot more notice when they start to bark in whatever regional accent they’re using. For all I know they’re shouting, ‘Big scaley thing with teeth. And his tail ain’t wagging.’

You can buy guns here you know. 

Excuse me – I’m just popping down to Walmart for an AK47.

Trouble’s brewing…

I have a terrible confession to make. One that jeopardises the very essence of my being. In fact I’m not one hundred percent sure that I’m willing to share this shocking revelation with you, my blog loving readership, although I have in fact alluded to it in an earlier blog – I was just hoping that the situation might resolve itself.
So perhaps I won’t tell you after all.
I do find it quite embarrassing.
Pardon?
Oh, you want to hear it.
Are you sure?
Well I agree I have ‘dangled the carrot’ as you so eloquently put it.                                       Do stop giggling at the back, madam.
I suppose you’re right and after all I can’t unsay it now, can I?
I’ve gone a bit too far.
Okay, here goes.
Perhaps you should sit down.
Ready?
No no, I’m not prevaricating – again.
Here goes.
Ahem.
Sorry, just clearing my throat.
I don’t like tea.

There you have it.
What?
You were expecting something a bit more risqué?
Well I apologise, but it concerns me.
Greatly.
After all it goes to the very root of my ‘Englishness.
As a native of Shakespeare’s sceptred isle I should probably be swimming in the stuff every day before breakfast. As a Brit I’m supposed to like it.
And I used to.
Until they ripped out my still beating heart and replumbed it before thrusting it back and stapling up my chest cavity.
Sorry madam? Yes, you go and have a lie down. I’ll try not to be so graphic in future.
Anyway – perhaps it was something to do with the anaesthetic.
Put me right off. I can’t even bear the thought of drinking a brew now.
Proper tea of course.
By ‘proper‘ I mean the stuff that you might call breakfast tea, builders tea or something like that. Tea to put hair on your chest madam.
Tea to stand your spoon up in.
Tea as thick as custard.
Not that wishy washy tea that the Queen no doubt gets served on a daily basis. I’ll bet a pound to a penny that Madge would like nothing better than to wrap her regal mitts around a nice steaming mug of good old Tetley instead of that crappy green gunk she’s given.
Tea worth fighting our former colonial territories over.
Good old British tea – made in India, or China.

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And that brings me back to my point.
If I no longer like tea, am I no longer a dyed in the wool Englishman?
Don’t get me wrong, if there’s a game of cricket going on I’m all for lounging around by the boundary rope and applauding politely when a wicket is taken or the bowler is struck for six.
I can deride Johnny Foreigner with the best of them.
I know the main verse of the National Anthem and am quite comfortable with the last verse having something to do with giving those damned rebellious Scots a good crushing.
I do my best to keep my upper lip as rigid and untrembly as possible.
I’ve never tried, but I have no doubt that I could probably pole a punt with the best of them.
Wha..? No madam, with a ‘P.’
I live here, in Blake’s Jerusalem in the heart of the country that gave industrialisation to the world, the land that Constable and Turner painted, that Dickens wrote about in the language spoken by most of the planet.
But I now don’t like tea.
I feel like a traitor.
Perhaps they’ll drag me to The Tower, lop off my worthless head and mount it on a pike outside Westminster Palace as a warning to others not to be so fickle.
Or suspend me upside down over a vat of steaming Typhoo and dunk me like an unworthy digestive.
I’m supposed to go to the States in a couple of weeks, after this shocking admission I’ll be surprised if they let me back into the country of my birth.
I’ll be forced to live a life in exile in some coffee growing republic.
It’s been nice knowing you.

Vote DOGNAPPED! You know it makes sense

So – here’s something a little different from my usual scribbling.
Okay, who said, ‘About time too!
There’s no need.
And the rest of you can stop sniggering.
Honestly if I’ve got to come over there I swear that I’ll…
I should count to what?
Oh all right. 1,2…
…8, 9, 10. Thanks, I’m feeling a lot better now.
Now I may have mentioned this before, but Misty’s book, DOGNAPPED! is in the final of THE PEOPLE’S BOOK PRIZE and…
Eh?
Was that you – again?
It was, wasn’t it? ‘You never bloody shut up about it!‘ indeed.
I’ve got your card marked, matey.
Anyway, for the rest of you who are at least kind enough to show just a little bit of interest, then let me explain.
No not you, smarty pants.
You can go and stand over there – in the corner. No, go on, further, further and a bit more. That’ll do. I’m not speaking to you again.
Ever.

4
THE PEOPLE’S BOOK PRIZE.
It must be important, it’s in capitals.
And, ha ha, the final is in the capital too.
I know, I know – I don’t know how I think them up.

Well I thought it was funny! In fact I think a bit of wee came out. It must be an age thing!

So, London.
Down the smoke.
A week on Tuesday.
Me and Kate get to have a bit of posh nosh.
In Stationers Hall down by old St. Paul’s cathedral.
For the awards ceremony.
It might even be on a Sky News podcast thingy.
I’ve got to wear a dicky bow.
No, I haven’t bought it – I borrowed it off Posh Dave, he’s in a male voice choir, so he has all the gear.
I don’t even have to tie it, it’s on a bit of elastic. But don’t tell anyone, I’d hate to spoil the illusion.IMG_0216
So there we have it.
How about that then?

Of course you know what it’s about. The gang of dogs on the canal barge – got it now?

Well you said you’d read it, I told you to borrow it from Dudley library. Yes the one with Ashley in it, remember? I knew you’d bring that up – again! Here he is look, I know you like to see him, occasionally

I’m chuffed.
So’s Misty.
Pardon?
Will we win? Dunno – I’ll let you know.
Oh, hang on I nearly forgot.

You will vote for me & Misty won’t you?
Yes, that does include you in the corner.
Yes, I’m sorry – just a bit tense with all this going on. Hope you understand.

Anyway:-

Children’s section
DOGNAPPED!
http://www.peoplesbookprize.com

Thank you.

 

You couldn’t make it up! Oh – perhaps you can then…

Friendship is a wonderful thing. If for example you had the idea that you could run the country better than the present government, even though you had absolutely no experience and were totally politically naive, you would know that you could rely on your friends to heap upon you scorn, ridicule and to offer no help whatsoever. But in the unlikely event that you did succeed, those same friends would expect lavish praise for their endeavours.

So how would you go about such a venture, given that the political process is slow and that you are too impatient to go through the proper channels. It might be an idea to form your own party, over the internet of course, that should speed things up a bit. All you’d need to do then would be to increase your public profile – well they say sex sells…

This is such a story. It couldn’t possibly work of course – now how do I go about setting up a website?

You can call me Dave, by the way.

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pm. com – a play by David J Robertson. (Finalist with children’s book – DOGNAPPED! – in The People’s Book Prize 2017)

Coming to a stage near you – provided you live in The Black Country of course. (I know what you’re thinking, ‘Bloody hell, he wrote that quick!’)

See the results here – 9th and 10th June,       Gig Mill Methodist Church Hall, Witton Street, Stourbridge, DY8 3YG

 

For ticket information contact – acomedytheatregroup@hotmail.co.uk

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The Black Country – has it’s finger on the rest of the country’s pulse.

Bostin!

 

Isn’t copy and paste wonderful…

I know, I know.

Don’t keep on!

‘If I carry on like this I’ll never get anything done.’

Whinging on like that!

I’ll log out in five minutes, o.k?

…hang on, just got to…

…well, did you ever?

I’ve never seen one that shape before.

Have you?

I didn’t think so.

What?

Yes, I’m coming. (not in that way madam, you’re on the wrong blog site! If you want that sort of stuff I think you press ctrl, alt, delete and ask for Tarquin).

Where were we?

Ah yes, you were trying to get my attention.

And I was…

…any minute…

…hold up!

Did you see that!?

Blimey! She’s extremely flexible.

For someone with an Adams apple.

Yes I know.

It’s an addiction.

My name is David J Robertson and I’m a social media addict.

Extreme measures are called for – I really should write out one hundred times:-

I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.

Ah now – where was I?

Oh yeah, have you seen that guy with the banjo and the goat on Facebook?

I must leave a comment.

‘Lol!’

And share it!

Funniest thing I’ve seen since…

Whoa!

What’s this?

Oh no, not the ice skating chimp with the puppy and the kitten again!

Some people!

Seriously, I’m going to have to unfriend them.

I’m just so sick of this cutesy stuff!

It just makes me want to chuff up my dinner.

But before I let them drift into social obscurity I’m going to comment,

‘FFS!’

Just to show them.

Bastards!

 

I wonder what’s happening on Twitter?