Studied for the Anglican Ordained Ministry, somehow wandered into Psychiatry. Weird universe.
Main ambition, to throw away my alarm clock and amuse myself all day by writing, with occasional breaks for nourishment and sex, possibly simultaneously, although I've never tried it.
I've been writing short stories, some of them toe-curling, for over twenty years. Have written two books of impossible length that now require typing up on pooter, but at present rate should be finished by 2050.
I would like to be remembered for making readers laugh so much they need to change their underwear.
Would like to be remembered for scaring readers so much they're too frightened to go for a wee-wee in the middle of the night.
Favourite authors: Robert Rankin, Phil Rickman, Tom Holt, Kinky Friedman, Steven King, Dean R Koontz.
Least favourite: Any author who uses words or phrases like "existential", "je ne c'est quois", or "antidisestablishmentarianism".
Would like to earn pots of money, don't care how. Open to suggestions.
I live with a Pagan, two extraterrestrials who claim to be my sons, two Salukis, four cats, six chickens and, it is rumoured, several fish that have occasionally been seen taking large water fowl on the garden pond.
Main ambition: Not to die.
Other main ambition: Not to outlive my wife.
Sundry ambitions: To learn how to use my lap top without losing whole manuscripts. To find the S.O.B. who keeps moving things around when I know I've only just put them down in a safe place. To find out where words go to when the Recycle Bin is emptied. To go where no man has gone before, to seek out new civilisations, and sell them my first novel.
Will update when I'm feeling better. 'Bye, and God Bless.
