Dying deadfolk

I recently heard that DEADFOLK has gone out of print. You can still pick up copies here and there but there is no longer a ready supply of it. And you know what that means, right? He's getting weaker.

Royston Blake is starting to fade away.

If FAGS AND LAGER and KING OF THE ROAD end up going the same way, poor old Blakey will be nothing more than a memory. "Royston Blake?" people will say in pubs up and down the country. "You know, that almost rings a bell but I can't quite... Nah, it's gone." How can we let that happen to a character described by Ken Bruen as "wondrous" and by the BBC as "a dazzling creation of well-intentioned prejudice and overblown machismo, dripping with dramatic irony, who would rather spare the upholstery of his 2.8i Ford Capri than ferry a wounded mate to hospital"?

Those kind of guys are like gold, right?

"He makes the insipid heroes of lad lit look like a bunch of big girls' blouses," sayeth the Guardian... but those blouses will be free to rule the roost if that fateful day comes when Blakey has nothing in print. Do you really want blouses ruling the literary roost? Oh yeah, I guess they do already... But do you want them to do so unchecked, without a pound-for-pound doorman and community pillar watching over them with a cold eye and a colder pint of lager?

Spread the word...

FREE THE MANGEL ONE