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It's Friday night here in the land of Oz. My two sons are messing about in the loungeroom with the young lad who is having a sleepover, and I am pondering the imminent signing of the contract for my next book, 'Silver Studs & Sabre Teeth' - the title is a homage to the song 'Megal Guru' by T-Rex. One of my secondary characters is a Marc Bolan impersonator. Who, like me, is of the view that we need more Marc Bolan impesonators in fine literature? Who cares about boy wizards and vampires? Who cares about Mummy Porn? I don't know if you in the US have been using the phrase Mummy Porn, and you would be spelling it Mommy Porn if you are, but I for one am fed up to the ovaries with it. Oh, in Oz we use it to refer to the 'Fifty Shades of Grey' trilogy that's settled quite comfortably on best seller lists here lately. Oh yes, Aesop's fox has definitely manifested itself in your humble blogger hereto!

My usual website is having technical difficulties. Bah, and bah again. Should be up and running in a few days. BUsiness days, that is. Bah, and bah again, says Yours Truly.

Not much else happening in my life of late. I had a moment of brief outrage today when I took my sons to soccer training. Somebody left a dirty condom on the field - I shit you not. A dirty condom, for some innocent to perhaps pick up and show his mother, and ask what it was. Or maybe for some passing dog to pick up and chew, then choke on. Hey listen, whoever you are, congratulations on practising safe sex, but how about next time you take your latex DNA catcher with you? Hmmmmm?

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