Another blur of a week. The only constant in my life is the scatalogical constant. The Scatalogical Constant is like Faraday's Law or Boyle's Law but messier. This week - on Monday - it began like this.
"Daddy! Daddy! Come quick! Daddy there's something on the carpet!"
"What is it?" I shout from the kitchen where I am busy disposing of his brother's nappy in an industrial compacter.
"I think it's a poo daddy...or a slug."
"Don't touch it!" I yell. Trying my best to wrestle the nappy into the bin. One touch from them - and you're a gonner - like a bite from a zombie in 28 days later.
I get back to the living room and inspect the damage. It's all very suspicious. The 2 kids stare at me with innocent angelic eyes. Sadly for Declan he can't talk - so his brother has a clear advantage.
"Declan did it," Fintan proclaims and wanders off to dissassemble the "Tower of Doom". Rule one of playclub. Never. Never disassemble the "Tower of Doom". It makes an Ikea flatpack house look easy to put up.
The next day - my books arrive from the publisher. I rip open the box with the kind of anticipation I last had when I was a five year old on Christmas Day. I wait an extra forty seconds whilst Sarah runs for the camera to capture the moment. I open the box and stare at my babies. Fousands of 'em. Well - not quite. But alot. The shiny red and white cover with the graffitti sprawled all over it and the dead body with the bottle in it's head...and the blood spattering across the getaway car. It's a work of genius. Looks brilliant. And it's in my hand at last. There it is - in Black and White. Now I just have to set those babies free to create bedlam and panic amongst the book-reading masses. Can't wait!
I call lot's of people and tell them the news.
"It's in the British Library! They've got an electronic copy! How good is that?!"
The thought of being an electonic copy at the British Library fills me with great literary pride. This is how JR Hartley felt in those Yellow page ads. Kind of.
I go to bed content and ready to take on the world.
I have to delay that a bit to take the kids to school / nursery and go to work. But when I get back...then I will take over the world and begin this great adventure!
Later in the week I'm on Dee Radio. I rock up early and warn myself not to say anything stupid on air (which can be difficult for me - sometimes just opening my mouth is all it takes).
The DJs are dead nice and I relax. Being in a radio studio is pretty cool. I am tempted to press buttons but decide against this. Suddenly - Gavin the Dj says "thirty seconds to go" and I realise this is it. I'm on air. To a local listenership of 35,000 people.
Ok that's not too bad - I only make a fool of myself in front of 35,000 people. And some of them will still be asleep.
We talk about maintenance on oil rigs and I worry I will send the listeners into a terminal coma. Luckily - we soon turn to the matter at hand. My upcoming book launch and opening new writer slot at the Chester Literature Festival. I tell the DJ that Dumb Luck will be a crime series - so in ten years time - it'll replace Touch of Frost on a Sunday night. He laughs and I safely steer myself through the interview without swearing or pressing any big red buttons (although I do accidentally turn all the lights off when I try to "buzz" myself out of the studio immediately after). Doh!
I'm on a high! The only minor bum-note was my inability to get them to play either something by the Stone Roses, Elbow, Led Zep or Plan B. Instead - my out-tro is "Relight my Fire" by Take That. Not quite rock 'n roll - but I let it pass.
Looks like I'm taking to this media life like a bear does to crapping in the woods. I'm a real natural...(hmmmmm...maybe not). Next step is my first phone interview on air - with a radio station in Dublin.
I would ask my people to talk to theirs. But I don't have any. Next step - get me an entourage. They need to be cheap. Possibly free. And look glamorous and literary. It's either that or I get the three vagrants who hang around the offie near the city centre and smell of P*ss. This is more of a Whitnail look than I'd intended, so is a real fallback option of last resort. Or failing that - I'll carry on as is - with two little monsters hanging off me instead.
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