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A Section for Laughing, my 2nd book, has been released into the wild!

Well, I’m very glad to say I’ve found a fool to publish my next lot of old scribblings!  And here’s the link and my author malarkey

What’s it about?  Well, after my sons read my first book I felt the need to redress the balance to show them that dad did have his day in the sun.

So this book covers the best and happiest days of my life.  You won’t believe the rubbish that’s followed me about over the years.  And it seems as if I am a magnet for the ridiculous!  If something daft is about to occur, I will be either on the fringe of it or right in the middle of it, with a crowd of people watching and waiting to see the outcome.

The one thing I do know is, my life doesn’t run like the TV ads, you know, where everything works as easy as 1-2-3.  Oh no, don’t be fooled by Ikea when they say, “Just simply follow the instructions.”  Three days it took to construct that bloody bed, which brings me to a quatation you should pass onto your children.  “There’s no such thing as a two-minute job!!!

The key theme of A Section for Laughing is day-to-day life.  School days, holidays and possibly the worst – inanimate objects.  Safe to say, it’s a laugh from cover to cover, and here’s a piece about the author…

About the author

Born in a wind tunnel, Neil had a turbulent start in life, and found it difficult to mix with other children, as they didn’t understand his sense of humour.  His mother, an up and coming giraffe sexer and part time welder, doted on her second child, and spent many years telling him that his sister had run away to join the New Barnet Nazi League, London.  His father, a retired golf divot, and volunteer whelk whisperer, supplemented his wages by trout tickling.  Sadly, after manhandling several old trouts at a local bus terminus, he was arrested and subsequently exiled to Stevenage, England prior to asking for 72 other cases to be taken into consideration.

Neil left school at 15 by walking away from it, and joined a kipper-splitting company in Bognor, England, West Sussex as a tea boy, where his parents owned a beach hut measuring 8’ x 3’ x 3’.  This later turned out to be a discarded sentry box from Buckingham Palace.  His dad was furious; as for months he’d wondered why you could only get one person in it at a time.  After an incident at ‘Cut it, Gut it & Squish it’, Neil was sacked when the police were notified that he was running a barnacle-laundering ring after the firm closed in the evenings.  No charges were brought against him.

Sometime later and, after extensive psychoanalysis, Neil found the job of his dreams, at a Turbot Tweakers in Penge, Greater London and he stayed with the company for 12 happy years.  Sadly, after a Turbot prank back-fired, he was made redundant.  No charges were brought against him.  At the age of 27 he married a woman; which was fortunate; because he went on to produce two sons.  “To this day,” he said, “I can’t be sure I am the father, as for at least three years of the marriage I was a eunuch.

Putting doubt to one side, and his testicles back in a jar on the mantelpiece, he immigrated to Scarborough, England, North Yorkshire after being head-hunted for a prime job with a Pollack pulping factory, which was just four feet away from Wind scale nuclear plant, England, Cumbria.  Sadly, two weeks later he was sacked once more, when another mollusc related incident was reported to the Flying Fish Squad.

Released on bail, he legged it immediately, and saw out the rest of his days working at a halibut flatteners’ in Fife, Scotland, where he wrote rubbish for anyone who would listen but enjoyed a bloody good laugh.  He died at the age of 106, after he was brutally attack by a rogue gang of kipper splitters from a nearby town.

Here’s one of Neil’s most famous quotations, which is in fact in the Guinness Book of Records, for being the most senseless piece of English literature ever committed to paper.  I think you’ll agree that this seminal quote speaks volumes about the man himself, his life and his work.

“Never, did so many, in the face of human convicts, do so much, for others that couldn’t do it for themselves, without asking so few to get involved.”


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