Attention whore

Time for some shameless self-promotion, which I thought I’d slip in seamlessly while still riding high on my triumphant return. Nobody’ll notice; it’ll be fine.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, but I work in publishing. It’s far from glamourous and it pays poorly. Go for it, kids! However, I’ve been doing some regualar freelance work on the side recently, which has been rewarding in more ways than one. Future Publishing’s title WPT Poker is now Britain’s best-selling poker magazine, and I’m pretty sure that it’s purely down to my involvement. The October issue is now on the shelves, featuring no less than three pieces penned by your faithful scribe. Mmm, tasty.

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The Vanishing (and subsequent reappearance)

It’s been too long, friends. Emails have literally trickled weakly into the trendthrift mailbox over the past few months demanding information on the whereabouts of everybody’s favourite sporadic blogger. I replied to every single one, telling them that Mark X was still posting. Now and again.

And me? Well, I don’t like to say too much due to the impending court case, but let’s just say that a certain BBC ‘personality’ didn’t like something I wrote about him on this very site and proceeded to threaten me with legal action. This was all very worrying of course, but I decided to call Brighty’s bluff (incidentally, I wouldn’t be surprised if ‘Call Brighty’s Bluff’ is the name of his next BBC vehicle – look out for the daytime quiz pilot in the coming months). I told him where to stick his threats. A few days later, a letter arrived from his legal representative requesting a meeting to resolve matters. Obviously shaken by the official nature of the document, I called and made the necessary arrangements. 

Only as I stepped out of my car did it dawn on me that Swanley Asda car park wasn’t a credible meeting place for legal negotiations, especially in the early hours of a wet Tuesday morning. By then, though, it was too late. I only saw him for a split second; those crazed eyes ready to burst as he ran at me, mouth foaming, relay baton in hand. THWACK! The next thing I knew, I was drifting back into consciousness with an almighty headache. Eager to investigate the extent of the damage to my throbbing head, I found my progress hampered, my hands tied behind my back with a crudely knotted rope. I looked up to find Brighty standing silent over me, wearing nothing but a false moustache and a sinister smirk. He proceeded to perform star jumps just inches from my face, demanding that I counted out loud as he went. After what can only be described as a thorough workout, a visibly excited Brighty left the room, only to return minutes later with a small bowl of gruel – and no spoon. He placed it on the floor in front of me, turned and left, cackling all the while.

A horrowing experience for anybody to endure, I think you’ll agree. Only, it wasn’t a one-off. That’s been my daily routine for the past five-and-a-half months. Wake up, count star jumps, lap at a bowl of gruel. Luckily for me, it turned out that Brighty’s unorthodox training schedule was in fact preparation for this year’s Great North Run, which took place over the weekend. So, as he was trudging his way around the North East, I broke free of my shackles and made my escape from the makeshift dungeon. As I look back now, I think that I probably could have made a run for it before, but to be totally truthful, the gruel was pretty good.

Anyway, I’m back now, and who knows? If my new role at work involves getting a new machine with an OS that can actually run a browser that supports WordPress properly, maybe I’ll actually update this place sometimes.