Paul David Brazil's anthology of 32 British and gritish writers is now available to buy.
It's quite a line up, some cracking writers and stories plus my own unoriginally titled story.
The full line up is:
1. Two Fingers Of Noir by Alan Griffiths
2. Looking For Jamie by Iain Rowan
3. Stones In Me Pocket by Nigel Bird
4. The Catch And The Fall by Luke Block
5. A Long Time Coming by Paul Grzegorzek
6. Loose Ends by Gary Dobb
7. Graduation Day by Malcolm Holt
8. Cry Baby by Victoria Watson
9. The Savage World Of Men by Richard Godwin
10. Hard Boiled Poem (a mystery) by Alan Savage
11. A Dirty Job by Sue Harding
12. Squaring The Circle by Nick Quantrill
13. The Best Days Of My Life by Steven Porter
14. Hanging Stan by Jason Michel
15. The Wrong Place To Die by Nick Triplow
16. Coffin Boy by Nick Mott
17. Meat Is Murder by Colin Graham
18. Adult Education by Graham Smith
19. A Public Service by Col Bury
20. Hero by Pete Sortwell
21. Snapshots by Paul D Brazill
22. Smoked by Luca Veste
23. Geraldine by Andy Rivers
24. A Minimum Of Reason by Nick Boldock
25. Dope On A Rope by Darren Sant
26. A Speck Of Dust by David Barber
27. Hard Times by Ian Ayris
28. Never Ending by Fiona Johnson
29. Faces by Frank Duffy
30. The Plebitarian by Danny Hogan
31. King Edward by Gerard Brennan
32. Brit Grit by Charlie Wade
Available to buy on Amazon
Monday, 19 December 2011
Monday, 12 December 2011
Another old man rant...
The youth of today, eh?
That’s one good thing about getting old: you can start saying old people things. However, the statement does have some value.
Every generation post 50’s has left behind some redeeming change. Whether its music, fashion, obesity, whatever. I always refer to them as music eras as they seem to be the driving force. Sixties gave us mods and hippies. Seventies rock then punk. Eighties new wave and indie. The nineties, rave.
I was a bit too young for new wave and slightly too old for rave, but god did I have a bash at it. I’ve stood in fields at four in the morning freezing cold and sweating at the same time. I’ve been in clubs where the atmosphere turned from defensive to electric after the drunks left at three in the morning. I’ve watched the sunrise on Brighton beach after dancing all night in steel toe-capped CAT boots. I’ve got the prematurely bad knees to prove it.
But youngsters today, eh? What about them?
Nothing.
The noughties were a forgettable decade. The only thing they generated were manufactured pop music, hoodys and trousers that are worn at half mast. The oneties look to be going the same way too.
Youngsters of today, this rant is for you. Think hard about this. When your grandkids eventually ask you, “There was punk, new wave and rave. What did you have?” What you going to say to them?
"We listened to rehashed, manufactured music, I wore my trousers halfway down my arse while your nan had a spray tan in November?" No. You need something more. Some defining theme or music style. Something to celebrate the fact you’re still young and can change the world before you get old and cynical and start thinking you can write books. The inability to spell and punctuate isn’t what you want to be remembered for, is it?
I know everything from festivals to alcohol has become commercialised and dumbed down, but that doesn’t stop you thinking for yourself and rebelling. Not that I want too much rebelling. I’m middle aged now and I’ve got twenty quid on me nectar card. Rebel in moderation, young people, avoiding damage to loyalty card users wherever possible. Most of all, find something that makes you stand out from the last and the next generation.
So, sort it out. Pull your trousers up, they look fucking ridiculous, get out there and do something people’ll remember. Before it’s too late.
And breathe out...
Time for a picture, I think
That’s one good thing about getting old: you can start saying old people things. However, the statement does have some value.
Every generation post 50’s has left behind some redeeming change. Whether its music, fashion, obesity, whatever. I always refer to them as music eras as they seem to be the driving force. Sixties gave us mods and hippies. Seventies rock then punk. Eighties new wave and indie. The nineties, rave.
I was a bit too young for new wave and slightly too old for rave, but god did I have a bash at it. I’ve stood in fields at four in the morning freezing cold and sweating at the same time. I’ve been in clubs where the atmosphere turned from defensive to electric after the drunks left at three in the morning. I’ve watched the sunrise on Brighton beach after dancing all night in steel toe-capped CAT boots. I’ve got the prematurely bad knees to prove it.
But youngsters today, eh? What about them?
Nothing.
The noughties were a forgettable decade. The only thing they generated were manufactured pop music, hoodys and trousers that are worn at half mast. The oneties look to be going the same way too.
Youngsters of today, this rant is for you. Think hard about this. When your grandkids eventually ask you, “There was punk, new wave and rave. What did you have?” What you going to say to them?
"We listened to rehashed, manufactured music, I wore my trousers halfway down my arse while your nan had a spray tan in November?" No. You need something more. Some defining theme or music style. Something to celebrate the fact you’re still young and can change the world before you get old and cynical and start thinking you can write books. The inability to spell and punctuate isn’t what you want to be remembered for, is it?
I know everything from festivals to alcohol has become commercialised and dumbed down, but that doesn’t stop you thinking for yourself and rebelling. Not that I want too much rebelling. I’m middle aged now and I’ve got twenty quid on me nectar card. Rebel in moderation, young people, avoiding damage to loyalty card users wherever possible. Most of all, find something that makes you stand out from the last and the next generation.
So, sort it out. Pull your trousers up, they look fucking ridiculous, get out there and do something people’ll remember. Before it’s too late.
And breathe out...
Time for a picture, I think
