Belgium

Hey, are you going to be hanging around the Belgium area in early March? Pop along to the Brussels Book Fair, where I will be doing a panel type affair on all things noir and crime on 6th March, sitting alongside fellow Serie Noirian Antoine Chainas, among others. Other notable guests include Russell Banks and "Le Chat". Around that time Gallimard/Serie Noire will be publishing DES CLOPES ET DE LA BINOUSE (Fags and Lager, translated by Thierry Marignac), so everything is cool on the Continent. (Unless you are Marc Stevens, in which case things are very uncool.)

Gitanes and Kronenbourg

Here is the cover of the French edition of FAGS AND LAGER, which will be out from Serie Noire/Gallimard in March. Dig that plastic cup!

Ever wonder what happened to the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers?

Here's your answer.

This blog

I sometimes wonder if I am doing this blogging thing wrong. Maybe if I was doing it right I would talk about every book I read, film I saw or album I listened to. Perhaps I would tell you more about my day-to-day writing life and the ups and downs of the publishing world. Maybe I would expand more on the comic work I am doing, or the screenplays.

But somehow I don't feel inclined to.

Don't take it personally. If I met you in a pub (or anywhere) I would tell you it all, if you wanted to hear it. I don't hide anything when I can see the whites of a person's eyes (as long as they aren't too close together). But I cannot see you. Not only can I not see you, but you're not there. There is no "you" with blogging. Blogging is like going to a prominent place in the High Street, blindfolding yourself and then just shouting. I don't know who is listening. You could be a connoisseur of the Mangel books. Or you could be one of these people who find this blog by searching for the phrase "make her gag".

Then there's the lengthy opinion pieces that I could be doing. I could be railing against the lack of creative rope given to filmmakers. I could be whinging about how bookshops used to have soul (in their buying choices) and didn't see their wares as product so much as cultural artifact. I could be laying into the multitude of authors who write stories with nice, safe round edges and run a mile from dangerous looking sharp angles. I could be explaining to you how much I hate Katy Melua. But there's a reason why I don't.

I am not a critic, a social commentator or any other kind of journalist.

I am a writer of fiction.

So, thank you for continuing to check this blog, dear anonymous reader. And I swear I will have some more fiction for you before the decade is out. In the meantime, don't listen to Katy Melua. And if you're going to see I AM LEGEND, don't read the book first.

Charlie Williams - voice of reason

Hi, this is David Hasselhoff disguised as Christopher Lillicrap, guest-blogging for Charlie Williams. I just wanted to applaud Charlie's earlier post about the Pogues and Fairytale of New York, which has resulted in BBC Radio 1 going back on their censorship decision and reverting to the original version of the song, which includes the words "faggot", "slut", and "cunt". Charlie deserves a lot of credit for wading in on this row and bringing home the right result. You should go out and buy his books as a gesture of gratitude.

You cheap lousy homosexual

I mean, for fuck's sake. Presumably they deem it OK to say "you're an old slut on junk?" But fret not, you can get it in all its terrifyingly offensive glory here:

Could Have Been a Contender

Great fly-on-the-wall thing about a journeyman boxer on Setanta last night (with the above title). Tony Booth has been fighting professionally for 17 years, with 50 wins out of 162 fights. He takes fights on a day's notice, and tries to provide for his wife and kids through fighting alone. Yet he doesn't train (quite clearly), drinks like a fish and is not bothered about losing (on points). Watching him fight the young up-and-comers, there is no doubt he has the skill to have at least gone for a national title. But, as one of his pub mates says, "No one bothered with him." I found him very familiar. I also found him kind of heroic. I love characters like him. A journeyman (aka professional opponent) is way more interesting than a hyped up prospect surrounded by yes-men. I thought the filmmakers tried to insert some sadness into his depiction, but there really was none there. Pathos, but no sadness on his part.

Interesting to see the scalp of Omar Sheika on his record, who went on to have four world title fights and go the distance with Jeff Lacy, Markus Beyer, Eric Lucas and Glen Johnson (Joe Calzaghe knocked him out).

Watch it (in five parts):

"I'm sorry sir, I cannot understand you"

Never mind the footy

Ricky Hatton bids for English glory in Las Vegas in TWO WEEKS. If he pulls this off, surely it would be one of the biggest coups in British sporting history. Or just British history in general. Actually, if Ricky Hatton, the fat Manc who drives a Robin Reliant van, beats Floyd Mayweather Jnr, the widely-regarded and self-proclaimed best fighter (and mouthiest cnut) on the planet, it will be the most momentous event IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD.

Newsletter

Anyone interested in Mangel and Royston Blake should sign up to my newsletter. I will be saying something about a possible fourth book in a couple of weeks. You also might have been morbidly amused by this recent news item.

The Beast From the East

Can't be sure, but I think the above is the Russian edition of DEADFOLK. Can any Russian speaker confirm? Looking at this page it does seem like it. (Look at that telltale "2.8i" in the blurb.)

Anyway, if Мертвецы is the Russian DEADFOLK, and I am this Чарли Уильямс guy, then very cool. I'm off to celebrate by purchasing a football club.

Joseph and his amazing technicolour belts

This blog salutes Joe Calzaghe, probably the best boxer in the world at this moment. It's between him and Floyd Mayweather Jr in the silky skills stakes, and Joe takes it in my books book because he is also a granite-chinned battler. On Sunday morning, against the immensely destructive WBC/WBA chamption Mikkel Kessler, he took some bombs on the chin and regrouped to win. The best shots of the night were from Kessler, but he couldn't land enough of them to trouble slippy Joe. But skills are not all. You need a fighting heart to be a great, and Calzaghe showed that in round 12. He never looked like knocking Kessler out and constantly faced that danger himself, but instead of playing it safe and protecting his carefully constructed lead, he chose to trade blows. the final stanza included some toe-to-toe action the like of which I've not seen outside of Kingsway, Swansea after Ritzy's chucks out.