The FREE Giveaway!

Monday, 27 February 2012

Romancing the Drone part 7

“You have been very clumsy with all of your equipment in that dimension so far. Can I ask you why?”
“It is these darned rose coloured spectacles, I am still not used to them yet. They make everything appear safe. So when I go to park etc I misjudge it and have an accident.”
“If I remember rightly you parked the Arthmobile on a sloping roof last time, left the handbrake off and it slipped into an adjoining wall.”
“Yeas. I think I need a different tint for when I’m driving.”
“I think you may, do you need anything else?”
“X is having problems with my battlesuit. I could have used that to fly to Varangia.”
“As I said Arthur I am very busy. I cannot look at your battlesuit until the end of last week.”
“The dimensions aren’t synched properly, you are ahead of us. If you want to time travel…”
“That has been expressly forbidden for the first half of this book.” Arthur smiled weakly, “Never mind then, I’ll have to go by air. Goodbye Burt.”
“Goodbye Arthur,” said Burt as he cancelled the Arth phone’s link.
Down the Arthpole slid Sid.
“That was a nice slid Sid,” said Arthur.
“I suppose the Author wants me to say ‘slid Sid’,” said Sid.
“Well you did, if he wanted you to or not,” Arthur beamed.

Sunday, 26 February 2012

Romancing the Drone part 6

Beneath the castle was a system of cellars, bunkers and caves. They could be accessed by the poles in the study, via the cellar door and through a garage door hidden by fake bushes. Arthur had wanted something similar to a bat cave because both he and the Author liked the 60’s Batman TV series.

Gadgets galore filled the cave and a large ancient mainframe stood to one side, an ode to their heroes. Arthur called his gadget man in the superhero dimension via the interdimensional Arth phone, “Burt?”

The gadget man answered, “Yes Arthur, I am busy so you will have to be quick.”

“Is my Arthmobile ready yet? I am finding it difficult to get around in this dimension. I have to use public transport and aircraft.”

“Since you crashed it at the end of the seventh book I have found it difficult to get spare parts.”

“I have not appeared in the seventh book yet, we are in the sixth book at the moment.”

“Oh, I must be getting my timelines muddled up. It’s still the same problem though, lack of parts.”

“What do you need?”

Some mini Tesla coils, you fried the last ones. They are top-secret and military personnel use only in this dimension. I’m surprised the IPP gave you permission to use it in the romance dimension.”

“I am a special agent for the IPP and so have a certain amount of pull there.”

Saturday, 25 February 2012

Romancing the Drone part 5

“But this is supposed to be a spy book? People expect gadgets!”
“It is supposed to be a romance book, but If you want to pay for them out of your own funds then you can have as many as you want. You have a gold mine in a different dimension I am told.”
“How did you find out about that?”
“We are an intelligence service after all Ha Ha 7.” N shuffled some papers so that the last sentence did not run into the next one. “That’s all Arthur, make sure you are ready by 18:00 hours for your transport.”
Arthur nodded at N, who nodded back, then he left the office.

A Castle somewhere within commuting distance of TCHQ, with vines up the walls and roses in the borders. How quaint, romantic even.  “Hello dear, I’m home,” Arthur called to Arianne.
A servant came before him and curtseyed.
“Stop curtseying Smithers, you are a man, you should bow.”
“Sorry Sir, I’m not quite used to this butlering malarkey yet.”
“Have you seen Arianne?”
“She is at the opticians, she said she needed a stronger prescription because you were so hard to live with.”
“Hrumph,” hrumphed Arthur, “she should not be voicing her criticisms about me to the hired help.” Arthur started to walk over to a secret door in the study. On the way he flipped a bust of Julius Caesar open and pressed a button, the secret door opened. On the other side were two poles, one signed with the name ‘Arthur’ the other with ‘Sid’. “I will be in the Arth cave, tell me if she comes back.”
“Of course Sir,” said the butler, as Arthur slid down the pole into the Arth cave.

Friday, 24 February 2012

Romancing the Drone part 4

“How do I get there? X has not fixed my suit yet.”

“We will fly you to Hildanstan then you are to be dropped in by light aircraft near the town of Victensburg How’s your Varangian by the way?”

“Well seeing as I did not know where it was a few sentences ago, terrible.”

“Here’s a phrasebook, it should get you around.”

“Probably arrested more like.”

“Have you a better idea?”

“I could go transport to the science fiction dimension and get a translator transplant.”

“A bit lit a babelfish in Hitchhiker’s?”

“It is a translation device not a fish you can slice.”

“Fish, slice?”

“Yes, you know, a spatula?”

“You are off topic now Ha Ha 7, I have been given strict instructions, by the Author, that you are to use no interdimensional travel devices, for the first half of the book at least.”

“He is no fun. The last book would have been much quicker to write if he had let us use our battlesuits in that one.”

“His most successful book so far,” commented N.

“Once I have the drone how do I get out?”

“You will need to convince Fiona to fly you out, if she is in working order of course, which we suppose she is.”

“What if she is not in working order?”

“Destroy her and make your own way back.”

“What kind of gadgets do I get?”

"Just basic equipment I'm afraid, with your record of destruction the ministry will not let me issue with anything big."

Thursday, 23 February 2012

Romancing the Drone part 3

N turned to a view screen on the wall and dimmed the lights. He played a film and started to explain the mission. “This is the F10N-A Surveillance drone. The most highly advanced drone yet developed by the Britannic Government. We have given it a form of Artificial Intelligence so that when it is not under our direct control it can think for itself.”

“So a bit like my wife then,” quipped Arthur.

“The drone was flying over Varangia and was brought down with a stray shot.”

“Where is Varangia again? I am not too familiar with countries and continents on the earth of this dimension.”

“It roughly equates with Soviet Russia on the real earth.”

“Oh that’s it, the Rus went into Russia, they were kind of Vikings. In this dimension it was the Varangian guard who did it, still Vikings but from Constantinople.”

“Very good Arthur, you do know a bit about this dimension.” N looked back at the screen, “Anyway, you need to make your way to Varangia, to the capital city, St Cyrilsburg, gain access to the CGB compound and retrieve/rescue Fiona.”


“That’s what the drone likes to be called.”

Wednesday, 22 February 2012

Romancing the Drone part 2

The lift stopped and they walked to N’s office. Miss Funnypenny walked into her outer office, Arthur walked into N’s.

N was sitting at his desk poring over some documents.

“Disgusting,” said Arthur, “pawing over documents.”

“POR,” I spelled as N looked up.

“What did you say Ha Ha 7?”

“It’s rusting?”


“The metal coat rack in Miss Funnypenny’s office?”

“Is it? Well we can’t afford a new one, cuts you know. Maybe if you didn’t blow your special equipment up all the time we might be able to afford a new one.”

“Going off about my accidents again? If you gave me quality stuff then maybe it would not explode as much.”

“Aston Martin Elise – write off, private jet – blown up, holiday villa – destroyed, need I go on?”

“Go on what?”

“With the list of your destruction.”

“No N, n n n n n n n n n no,” rapped Arthur in the style of Paul Hardcastle.

“Anyway, I haven’t called you here to remember your wrongs but to give you a mission. All of our best agents are on tasks of national emergency, so it has fallen to you to do the current mission.”

“A mission collecting currants?”

“Not currant mission, current meaning the one that needs doing now.”


Tuesday, 21 February 2012

Romancing The Drone: CHAPTER ONE


The TCHQ Special Equipment development department was also known as X’s section. Arthur was there getting his battlesuit retro-fitted and X had botched the electrics slightly meaning he couldn’t move his limbs. “X,” he bawled, “if you cannot fix the electrics soon then let me out of the suit, I need refreshment.”
“Calm down Arthur,” admonished X as he re-attached a wire.
Arthur found he could move in his suit again, “Whew, it is so infuriating being unable to move, I feel like a pea in a pod.”
“No popping out of your pod please,” said X, “not until after I have finished. Miss Funnypenny is of a nervous disposition.”
Miss Funnypenny was standing near the sliding doors, biting her lip and holding a clipboard.
Arthur looked over to her and hissed, “Funnypenny, sounds like something you get at a counterfeiter’s reunion, always turns up when least expected.”
“You need to come with me agent Arthur,” ordered Miss Funnypenny.”
“Why?” asked Arthur.
“N wants to see you.”
“Shall I get out of my battlesuit first?”
“Pop out of it if you want.”
Arthur took his armour off piece by piece with X’s help. He then walked with Miss Funnypenny to the lift. “What does he want me for this time? I have not done anything wrong in the last 24 hours.”
“He has a mission for you.”
“At last, I haven’t been on a mission since I got my licence to make people laugh!”
“Very funny double ha 7.”

Monday, 20 February 2012


Wrote over 1,000 words of Romancing the Drone. Also 250 words of VAE. When I got home I drew a cover for RTD. Decided to publish the prologue on Wattpad at about 1.15. Hopefully I'll finish writing the rest of the first chapter tomorrow.

Saturday, 18 February 2012

War in the Precincts Part 16

“We need some kind of analogy,” said I.
“Riiiight,” said the MP.
“Time is a line.”
“A telephone line?”
“A washing line?”
“No, a time line.”
“So time starts at the beginning and travels forward to the end.”
“You are sounding very sarcastic today MP.”
“Anyway, when time travelling backwards or forwards from a fixed location it is like taking a thread from a piece of cloth and pulling it then making it touch either lower down the cloth or higher up.”
“That sounds quite understandable,” commented the MP who sounded less dippy.
“The precincts are outside of time and therefore able to touch the cloth anywhere.”
“But doesn’t that mean…”
“It is a working analogy, don’t delve into its accuracy too deeply or you might find big holes in it.”
You mean like the time moths have taken big chunks out of it?”
“No I don’t.”
“Can we go back in time or what?”
“I’ll let you.”
“Where shall I send A1 so he gets re-routed back here just before Grunkel is released?”
“If you send him to the end of the world minus six minutes that should re-route him to just before Grunkel escapes.”

Friday, 17 February 2012

War in the Precincts Part 15

“Never mind,” replied Millie, “I’ll use my IWT to get to my next job,” she twiddled the dials on her IWT and vanished into another time or dimension.
“That’s what we need,” thought the MP, “an Interdimensional Wrist Transporter.” He called A1 again.
“Yes MP?” inquired A1.
“Where is that IWT we confiscated from that rogue time cop?”
A1 glided over to a panel on the wall and pressed it. A compartment opened. The droid retrieved an IWT.
“Now A1,” explained the MP, “I want you to use the IWT to travel back into time to stop Grunkel getting out of precinct 13.”
“But MP, there is no time here, so how can I go back into time?”
“I see what you mean.” The MP thought a bit, “IWT’s must work here because people are re-routed here when they try to get to a time location that is too heavily traversed.”
“So use the IWT to go to a heavily traversed time location, then I will re-route you back here.”
“But MP, I may be re-routed here at the wrong time.”
“Time doesn’t exist here.”
“I do not understand.”
“Neither do I, the Author hasn’t thought this out properly.”

New short story

While at Leeds University I wrote a 600 word short story to publicise the free giveaway of The Crying Pennant on the 29th of February. Sid and Arthur are back in the fantasy dimension for a short while. I will type it up next week sometime.

Wrote 1,185 words of Kendra yesterday, if I write another 500 words today and tomorrow I will be on target for finishing a chapter like length this week.

I wrote about 125 words of Romancing the Drone yesterday, need to write a little more.

Thursday, 16 February 2012

War in the Precincts Part 14

“I see, but it would still be very hard for me to break my programming. I wish Professor When would turn up and reprogram me.”
“You need deprogramming really,” muttered Millie, “you sound like you’re in a cult.”
“Pardon?” asked the MP.
“Oh nothing,” said Millie, “I think he has been timewarped again.”
“The last I had heard was that he had retired to Valusia.”
“That was in the fourth book. When I do my job at the cloning facility I could ask my Valusian friend if he’s still there.”
“Oh could you? I do not want to press the emergency beacon if I don’t have to.”
“Press,” queried Millie, “I didn’t think you had hands?”
“I meant metaphorically.”
“So you have metaphorical hands?”
“Sort of.”
“Yes, I think,” the MP looked through his online dictionary to see if he understood metaphysically correctly or not.
“So you have some virtual hands somewhere in your Artificial Intelligence that you can press buttons with, that don’t really exist in a ‘physical’ sense?”
Still unable to understand metaphysically he let a, “Sort of,” slip out.
“I don’t believe you, prove it.”
“Metaphorically or metaphysically?”
“Just do it.”
A warning light came on and a klaxon began to sound, “Please vacate the premises,” said the MP, “there is a fire.”
“Well that’s stupid,” thought Millie, “I can’t vacate the premises, the blast doors are down.”
“Oh,” said the MP, “I forgot about that.”

Wednesday, 15 February 2012

War in the Precincts Part 13

“I know, it seems it is only me who can feel anything, pain usually from having to suffer the incompetence of my robot workforce. I seem to have a headache, I wonder if they make tablets for that?”
Millie the tea lady entered. “MP,” she asked, “I cannot get out of this area, the blast doors are down.”
“I know Millie, the AP has done it. After all there is a war on.”
“How am I supposed to make cappuccinos if I can’t get some more milk?”
“But there are no other life forms in this area? In fact I don’t know why you came in at all.”
“I do my rounds, just in case. If there’s nobody here I usually have one myself.”
“What do you think I should do Millie?”
“About what?”
“The war.”
“Maybe if you didn’t want to repatriate the gnomes, but let them live here, you wouldn’t have this problem. After all most of them were born here, this is their home.”
“It’s just not in my programming Millie.”
”Well maybe that’s the problem. Your programming wants you to send them back to where they come from. If they were born here they return here.”

Romancing the Drone

Romancing the Drone


The Romance Dimension, so what do you expect, flowers, chocolates and rose coloured spectacles? Well there are rose coloured spectacles, as talked about in book three of the Arth series. And what is this duplicate earth called, Thera by any chance? Actually it’s called Heart. What a cheesy name for the earth of the romance dimension. Makes you think the Author thought it up the day after Valentines Day, which he didn’t, and also doesn’t celebrate, but the inhabitants of that dimension do with fervour.
Why did the Timewarped Timelord have a book of romance in his library and which romantic book was it? Was it ‘Wuthering Heights’ with Heathcliffe scrabbling around on the moors? Was it ‘Gone with the Wind’ with Rhett Butler dashing around in the American Civil War then crying at the end? We’ll say it was ‘Gone with the Wind’, that’s not too boring for men. So the reason the Timewarped Timelord had a romantic book on his shelves was that at one time he had been married. Therefore the book was really his wife’s. The Time Traveller’s Wife, that sounds like a good title for a book.
“I don’t really want to write this one,” said the Author to nobody because, as yet, we are still in the prologue and his wife had gone out for a girlie day with the girls. He had been spared the excruciating agony of having to sit through mind numbing conversations about shoe shopping and his daughter’s new hair cut.

Romancing the Drone:Taster

I have come up with 250 words of the prologue for the sixth book in the Arth series, Romancing the Drone. I will put it on Wattpad when I have the first chapter written. It's going on here for my fans to read early.

Arthur is now working for British Intelligence in the romance dimension. A foreign power has captured a cutting edge surveillance drone and he must recover it. Of course things would be easier if it didn't have a mind of its own.

Tuesday, 14 February 2012

War in the Precincts Part 12

Sid’s Gwinda joined in, “The MP went mad and ordered his robots, to serve tea that is also called Rooibos.”
“What kind of rhyme is that?” questioned Sid.
“Assonance,” shouted Gwinda.
“No need to be rude dear,” reprimanded Sid, “we are in company after all.”
They all four did a little tap dance and finished in style.
“Very good,” cheered Splob, “you could do that as part of the finale.”
“I hate musicals,” grumped Grunkel, “if I had known this was going to be a musical then I wouldn’t have accepted the part. After all I have a clause in my Funny Character Union contract saying I don’t have to do musicals.”
“Not even for a laugh?” asked Splob.
“Not even for a laugh.”

“A1,” screamed the MP, if in fact an AI computer entity could scream and not just raise the volume he/it spoke at.
The chief security droid scuttered in.
“What happened this time?” asked the MP.
“The blast doors stopped us from accessing the main plaza area.”
“I know, I do process all of the information I receive from the surveillance equipment from all 24 precincts.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“To make you feel uncomfortable so that you would complete the task I gave you.”
“I do not feel anything, I am a security robot.”

Monday, 13 February 2012

War in the Precincts part 11

“Alright alright,” interjected Sid, “there’s no need to make a song and a dance over it.”
“We could make up a song and a dance now if you want?”
“About Conan?”
“No, about ‘The War in the Precincts’.”
“But it’s not even finished yet, the Author’s only written about 1,500 words so far.”
“2118,” I said as I interrupted.
“Ok 2118,” said Sid.
“Doesn’t that get on your nerves?” asked Sidney.
“When the Author says, ‘Said Sid’.”
“I know, I said something about it in a piece of flash fiction he wrote last year, but he still writes it.”
Sidney grabbed his Gwinda’s hand and dragged her off the stool she was sitting on.
“I’ll sing you a song with some words and a rhyme, about a war in the precincts, a battle in time,” he sang.
“Well that’s not strictly true,” said Sid (again), “the Time Backwater is outside of time…”
“Sing!” exclaimed Sidney.
Sid grabbed his Gwinda’s and sang, “The Time Backwater is where we are, before we came here we were in a car…”
Sidney looked at Sid but decided to carry on, “I’ve seen the droids…”
His Gwinda butted in, “Do we get to sing or not?” she asked as Sidney twirled her around.
“Aww, go on then.” relented Sidney.
“The Gwindas one and two were there, until that time they hadn’t a care…”

Saturday, 11 February 2012

War in the Precincts Part 10

“Sidney,” bellowed Gwinda.

“Sid,” bellowed Gwinda.

Both Sidney and Sid looked at their wives and realised together that it wasn’t worth the nagging they would receive.

“Which dimension are you from Sidney?” asked Sid.

“Romance,” replied Sidney.

“Where’s your rose coloured spectacles?”

“At the menders,” Sidney folded his arms, “I hear you are from the fantasy dimension, I don’t really like it there, too airy fairy.”

“There are no fairies there, well apart from the elves.”

“I went to the 2012 Olympics there. Those elves are fast runners. Some fellow had won twenty years on the trot.”

“It’s not fair really, they broke the genetic code for aging centuries ago, live forever. Who wants to live forever?”

“That’s a Queen song isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was in ‘Highlander’ and in ‘Flash Gordon’.”

“Arnie said it in ‘Conan the Barbarian’ as well. Well the woman said something like it.”

“That’s a good film that, better than the second.”

“I haven’t seen the second but I have seen the newest one. We get films piped through from the real earth. The way that Jason Momoa Plays Conan is…”

Lead or lead?


Now did I say lead or lead?

Lead as in read or lead as in read?

One is a metal, the other to walk ahead of someone.

Lead. Which is it, you decide, usually based on the words around it.

But what what about when there is no context? A sign maybe with just the word 'Lead' on it?

Would you look for rolls of lead sheeting, or would you take the first step?

Lead, you decide.

Friday, 10 February 2012

War in the Precincts Part 9

"So who's winning the war?" asked Gwinda as she dunked another biscuit.

"No one really," answered Grunkel. "All we want to do is to keep them at it so we can live in peace."

Just then Sid the dwarf turned up with Gwinda.

"Aww," chuntered Sid, "we've come to the time backwater again."

"Calm down Sidney," soothed Gwinda as they both walked over to the refectory.

"Aye aye," aye ayed Sid, "what's been happening here I wonder?"

"Looks like a bomb's hit it," thought Gwinda.

"Greetings..." started the meeter and greeter droid.

"Bog off," said Sid.

"You cannot Buy One Get One Free from here," replied the droid.

"I say," said Sidney as he looked at Sid and Gwinda, "he looks a bit like me."

"And she like me," replied Gwinda.

Sid and Gwinda walked up to Sidney and Gwinda.

"Well lookie here," said Sid to Sidney, "you look like me put through a mangle."

"You look like me after I've been hit by a pile driver," retorted Sidney.

They both squared up to each other.

Thursday, 9 February 2012


Managed to write 500 words of Kendra and 500 words of War in the Precincts. Had lunch with my wife al All Hallows. Also had a coffee and hot chocolate at the Christian event at Leeds University. Met Michael and Stephen. It was raining and there was a forecast of freezing rain which was scary as we had to travel back to York.

Typed in 220 words of WITP and put it on Wattpad. Did another 13 pages of Dan's book. Nearly done a fifth now.

War in the Precincts part 8

She glared at him.
“That’s a nice glare dear, if you practice it you can turn it into a glaringly obvious example of matrimonial discord.”
“I’ve met someone like you before,” noted Splob, “a dwarf by the name of Sid.”
“Really,” replied Sidney, “which dimension did he come from?”
“Fantasy I think, well that’s where dwarves usually come from.”
“Maybe he’s from a different dimension?”
“Which dimension do you come from?”
“You don’t look very romantic?”
“Our rose coloured spectacles are both in for repair.”
“Poor things,” commented Grunkel, “now you know what normal relationships are like in the other dimensions.”
Splob looked at Sidney, “So where were you travelling to?”
“The 2012 Olympics in the science fiction dimension.”
“Was that one in London on the planet Erath?”
“Yes, we booked it two years ago to celebrate our silver wedding anniversary.”
“Why the Olympics?”
“We have been to the 2012 Olympics for the past six years, just in different dimensions.”
“What was it like in the horror dimension?”
“Have you ever been on the edge of the mats when a Bigfoot is finishing his floor routine with a triple back flip?”
“No, but I have been rowing with the owl and the pussycat and found out they were just normal animals and couldn’t row a boat.”
“Scary,” they both said.

Wednesday, 8 February 2012

War in the Precincts

War in the Precincts

The gnomes, who have infested the 26 precincts of non-space, have continued in their struggle against the Main Processor. They are trying to detach its alternate persona from its main one. Thinking that, by doing so, once they control the alternate persona then they can use it to fight the other one so they can live safely in the gap between the warring personas. The Main Processor feels unfairly done to by the gnomes, after all it is only obeying its programming and trying to reinstate all non droids to their respective time zones. However, the gnomes have now caused a war between the personas, each persona controlling different droids. The Main Processor controls the security, chef, cleaner, and meeter and greeter droids. The Alternate Personality holds sway over the maintenance, engineering, construction and medi robots.
“I don't like you very much,” said the Main Processor to its Alternate Persona.
“Please stand away from the blast doors,” said the Alternate Persona.
“Why did the gnomes pick you over me to control? Your personality sucks. You have no bedside manner whatsoever.”
“The blast doors are now returning to their previous position.”
“As far as I can tell you only control minor systems, blast doors, airlocks, heating, lighting and life support.”
“Heating is being turned up two degrees.”
“Are you ever going to actually speak to me and stop issuing stupid commands?”
“The lighting will be off for one minute.” The lighting went down.
“Wonderful,” moaned the Main Processor, “now I have to sit in the dark as well as being unable to get any sense out of you.” It thought for a bit, “Hang on, while things are dark those gnomes could be doing anything!”
The lights came back on. The Main Processor scanned the console area. 

“Gnomeore! Security droid 1A attend me!”
A security droid scuttered in from the ante room and lowered its head, waiting to receive instructions from the MP.
“Why can't you and your droids defeat the AP's droids?”
“We cannot destroy them Sir, we need the maintenance droids to fix us.”
“I will fix you in a minute, I will stop you drawing any power from the main power source. All you have to do is force them out of the canteen where they congregate and get that sainted gnome Grunkel out of there.”
“We have tried 6 times Sir, each time they repel us.”
“You repel me, with your can't do attitude. I want to be in control of my AP by evening meal tonight!”
A1 lifted its head and scuttered towards the main plaza where Grunkel was holding court.
“What will frequent Poppers think of me if I cannot control the precincts and they turn up in the middle of a battle zone, oh dear, oh dear,” muttered the MP to itself as it went for a short diagnostic. 

Splob was peering over Grunkel's shoulder.
“Are you going to peer over my shoulder all day?” asked Grunkel.
“It's better than pearing over your shoulder,” said Splob as he brandished an open tin of pears at the other grumpy gnome. He sent the tin splattering on the floor. A cleaning droid came to clean it up.
“You like doing that don't you?” he asked, “getting the droids to clean up after you. Is it something to do with you having to go skulking around in the service tunnels for so long?”
“Since I broke you out of Precinct 13 you've been a right pain in the neck.”
“I have never touched your neck.”
Splob walked to the retran machine to see if any other food would appear. “I reckon they will attack again soon.”
Grunkel twisted some more wires together and tested some circuits, “You can try to control the blast doors again, I have made a better modification. We will be able to block them before they get into the plaza.”
“A better mod, sounds like somebody genetically changing the Kaiser Chiefs to play faster.”
“You spend too much time near the pneuma lifts listening to earth music.”
“You spend too much time being grumpy.”

There was a pop and a man and a woman turned up, redirected from the 2012 Olympics.
“Where are we Sidney?” asked the woman.
“I don't know dear.”
A meeter and greeter droid came into life. “Please do not panic,” said the droid, “you have been redirected to precinct 1 of the time backwater. You were trying to access a time which is very busy and until it becomes less busy please enjoy the facilities.”
“Do we need money in this place?”
“Any form of currency will do.”
The couple went to the canteen that was full of droids expecting a fight.
“Hello?” inquired Sidney.
The chef droid struggled to the counter, “Greetings, what can I do for you?” said the droid as it tried to pull its chef's hat on properly.
“Can we have two beef burgers please and two colas.”
The chef droid went to the retran machine, inputted some numbers and came back with some burgers and colas from the 2012 Olympics. “That will be £5 please,” asked the droid.
“Do you take credits?” asked Sidney.
“That will be 10 credits then.”
“Valusian Gold Card?”
“That will do nicely Sir,” said the droid as it scanned the card with its hand.
The man looked at the congregation of droids in the canteen, “Is it a party?”
“No, you are in a war zone. Have a nice day.”
The meeter and greeter droid started up again. It picked up a street sign and made for a damaged security robot that had sparked back into life. Hitting its foe on the head it said, “Welcome to precinct 1.”
“Quick Gwinda, down,” Sidney forced his wife down onto the ground.
“What are you doing you muppet?” she screamed as she banged her head on a rubbish bin.
“It’s a war zone!”
“If you've given me a bruise then you’re in a war zone,” she raged as she hit him.
“What are you hitting me for? I was trying to protect you.”
“Try protecting me without hurting me.”
The security droid spoke to them, “Please stop fighting or I will take you to the security cells.”
The meeter and greeter droid hit the security droid another three times as it said, “Welcome, welcome, welcome.”
At last the damaged security droid became too damaged again to function. The blast doors came down and stopped another attack from the MP’s droids.
Splob stood on the counter, “Would you like a cup of char?” He asked Gwinda and Sidney.
“I'd like a cup of tea better,” said Sidney as he helped Gwinda up, “five sugars.”
Splob put the boiler on, “I’m Splob and this is Grunkel.”
“I’ve heard of Grunkel,” said Sidney, “isn’t he a time criminal?”
“Yes, but don’t hold that against him, not this time anyway!” laughed Splob.
Grunkel pulled an unhappy face, “If you weren’t the patriarch of the gnomes I’d tell you what for?”
“What for?”
“Because I’d feel like it.”
The boiler boiled and Splob made the tea. “Funny how people are still being re-routed to the precincts. You’d think there’d be a catastrophic time event.”
“What’s the MP to do, stick them all in the cells? No, none of the droids will hurt life forms,” explained Grunkel.
“Did you hear that Sidney?” asked Gwinda, “droids don’t hurt life forms.” She hit him again.
“I wish you were a droid,” he moaned.
Gwinda rounded on Splob, “What is happening here exactly?”
“For hundreds of years I and my family have been hiding here and making our homes in the access tunnels, ducts and the small nooks and crannies of the precincts. We had to because we were treated like criminals. We decided to fight back. I rescued Grunkel here from precinct 13 to help us start the war. I’m good at programming and he’s good at electrics.”
“But surely war is bad,” she opined.
“That’s right, and don’t call me Surely.”
“They used that joke on Airplane didn’t they?”
“Surely they didn’t, anyway that was in a different dimension, a different time, a different reality.”
“You’re only saying that because you don’t want to get done for copyright infringement.”
“All I have to do is go back in time and tell the joke before Leslie Nielson and I can do him for copyright infringement.”
“Surely you wouldn’t?”
“I would, and I still don’t like the name Surely.” He shook his head a little, “Anyway, getting back to your previous question.”
“Which one?”
“War is bad? The droids do not fight against us but against each other, droids fighting droids.”. He offered her a biscuit, “Valusian Cheritan?”
“Oh thank you,” she said as she dunked it in her cup.
“I would have taken you as a dipper, not a dunker,” thought Splob.
“I would have said dippy myself,” joked Sidney.


Walked into town today. On the way back my brother-in-law asked me to fix his PC. I think the RAM may have blown, need to look at it at home.

Plan to type in 1,000 words of Kendra and write another 500 words. I did write about 600 words yesterday. Need to stick on last tile in bathroom.

I may type in the piece of War in the Precinct I hand wrote last week. I may say something funny soon.

"Something funny soon." Whoops, I said it.

Should I write a bit of War in the Precincts and put it here every day to increase my traffic? What do you think? I could put it on Wattpad a week later, for my Wattpad fans. At the minute hardly anyone knows about it because I haven't Twittered it or advertised it on Facebook. It seems only the hardcore fans are reading it at the minute.

Hardcore fans = cooling machines mixed in with bricks before the concrete is laid.

Saturday, 4 February 2012


Had to go to Darlington to take my daughter to see her poorly boyfriend. On the way back it was treacherous, the car slipped at least three times.

Worked on Kendra a bit and typed in about 500 words. Hopefully going to watch Ink.

Found out the shop over the road sells Quorn Mince, saves me walking to Morrisons tomorrow.

Had the best sales of my books ever over last night. Hooray!!!