In the last couple of days, I’ve had the overwhelming desire to start writing something new. Bizarrely, it’s not set in Europe between 1939 and 1945, but instead in a near future. It’s a bit Twilight Zone and a bit The Shining.
The idea isn’t all the way realised but there is the distinct sense, which I’ve learnt to lean into, that I want to write something new.

Maybe it’s the clear head and the ache in my calves from my new year, new me attempt but something new is on the horizon. If only I could face the task in hand instead of imagining the future focus.

I’m going to spend this evening drafting out a plan and trying to establish the world and we will see where I get to from there.

Well, here we are. One week into the best year of my life.
Well, I’m pretty sure it has to be. I got everything lined up and in position in 2023. This is the year that works out the best for me.

I’m sober. That’s new for me. I’ve spent a lot of the year drunk. I don’t offer that up as being a good or bad thing. It’s just a fact. I’ve been drinking a lot.
I like drinking.
I like who I am when I’m drinking.
I like the romance and the tragedy around it all.
That’s why it is nice to stop. I don’t know how long we will carry on for, but for now, I feel good for being so sober.

I’m running. I hadn’t run anywhere in three months. I was bulking, you see. That means I get to eat McDonalds at least three days a week and don’t do any cardio.
I like running.
I like who I am when I’m running.
I like the romance and the tragedy around it all.
We’ve been doing Couch To 5K together. Between those, I’ve been seeing how quickly I can do 5km anyway, like some kind of sick test against my knees and the extra kilos I’m carrying right now.
I don’t know how long we will carry on for, but for now, I feel good being a runner.

I’ve stopped using social media. I filled dead air and my life by dragging down and refreshing those feeds. It’s addictive and much of the time it is toxic. I don’t need it and for the most part, I don’t care for the people I see on there.
I hate social media.
I hate who I am when I’m on social media.
I hate the tragedy of it all. I’ll go back. We both know I will. But for now….. I’m enjoying who I am when I’m away.
I’m still allowed to exist in a ghost mode on Pinterest and Reddit, but nothing where I’m evaluated by anyone I haven’t had the foresight to block.

Right now, I’m doing all the cliche January things and I’m really enjoying it.

I’ve not smoked in a week either. Not a vape, not a cigarette, not a crack pipe.

Who cares how much of it sticks. If it feels good, do it (taken from the Big Beat Manifesto).

I couldn’t let 2023 end without a good look back at all the things that have happened. It has been an absolute wild ride and I feel much better about things than I did a year ago.

In January, I moved into a new space with some friends. An opportunity to have a room to call my own after living in the squat and a good chance to recover. At that time, I was still seeing a therapist and unpacking a fairly traumatic period. I was sober for the month to help clean my act up, even if looking at it now, it’s been dirtier and more drunken than ever before. I got another tattoo. As is the fashion. Working my way down my forearm for the first time. I was always worried about being able to hide them in formal situations but, as the saying goes, fuck it.
Improv started up again and I got to hang with my people. Mine. Those who stuck by me are a godsend and I don’t know where I would be without them.

In February, I went to Scotland for Super Bowl weekend, and caught up with Poppy when I had some time in Edinburgh. Having so much time to work on myself meant hitting the gym hard, and turning 36 in the best shape of my life.
E and I took our first trip together, to Paris to celebrate my birthday. We had the most incredible time together, indulging in the Parisian delicacies of drunkenness, love and art. By the time we came back, we were both sure we were going to start dressing solely like Parisians. It is yet to stick.
We finally got our game of darts in, as well as other cute date nights.

March saw us in London for a couple of days, including the Bike Shed with mum and Lawl and Maltby Street in the mix. We went to see the Bowie Experience as a birthday present and I was drunk enough to cry at Heroes.
E and I got matching tattoos as well as a pair of GWYG designs with Dean. The introduction of Skuffin. We continued to eat great food and dine out with friends. We also got to see one of our favourite bands (Death Cab) at the Roundhouse, and spend some time with Other Emily and Irish Dan.
At the end of March I was asked to perform at Hornchurch Theatre with Ross and Lee, and we had a riot. Then I got to visit the Secret Nuclear Bunker to teach improv. Mad day.

This April was the first 48 Hour Southend Improvathon, an event that broke me in so many ways. I played Brillo Paddins, a simple hobbit with a lust for incest. At the 24 hour mark, my character switched to the dark side and I became Poblin, a creature who continued to haunt me every Wednesday in 2023. The event was fantastic and I’m looking forward to the next one in February. It took a good few days after to feel normal.
E took me to Osbournes’ for the first time and initiated another of our favour date spots. I’m such a whelk boy now.
Scott took me and Scott’s Boys to see Garth Marenghi where I got to meet the elusive dreamweaver after and have my copy of Terrortome signed.
E and I went to London for the Infinity Rooms and dinner at Marco Pierre White’s restaurant.
Having claimed I was a stand up comedian, I threw myself into gigs at Attic and Ironworks.

May found us attending some literary events and shmoozing, waiting for the news I had been waiting for about my own book.
The Gaming Gamers went to Gunslingers and E and I went climbing together. We applied for Race Across The World and spent the next six months making toasts to our obvious television debut appearance (that never came to fruition).
I went to Cardiff for work, mostly to see Tom, and then got to go again before the month was out.
We celebrated Eurovision with some very tasteful costumes.
Took dad out for a birthday dinner and, if he asks, I reserved the whole restaurant for us. Better still, we went to Pasta Nostra a few days later.
Took E to London for Korean Hot Pot and A Little Life, cried at both.
Went paddleboarding together for the first time.
Got some new headshots, which are now default on all social media platforms.

In June, we went away for a couple of days and stayed in a converted silo with an adjoining woodfire hot tub. Lots of local pubs and country walks.
Attended Freya’s book launch for her second novel, the excellent Birdcage Library. A little insight in what is to come.
Benjy took me to see Nick Offerman, which was truly excellent.

With July came the good weather, a visit to Darren and Laura and a park run in Battersea.
Sarah and I went to see Blur, ticking off one of the remaining bands that I’ve always wanted to see and never got the chance to. Thinking about it, that’s the Britpop trifecta completed – Oasis, Pulp and Blur all seen.
Went to 180 for the Asteroid City exhibition with Jen and Ricky.
Silent disco at Faye’s.
Mike and Char’s wedding, staying in a castle and forming a lifelong bond with Adam. E and Cel’s speech made the day.

August.
Performed stand up at Twenty One, my favourite gig of the year. Taught the audience the chorus to On My Doorstep and all joined in.
Caught up with old work friends in Canary Wharf (the dirge of it all)
Date night to Featherblade.
Chris’s Star Wars party at Caddies.
Oh, I took up smoking again. A surprise to everyone. It turns out that selling a house with absolutely zero help is quite stressful.
E took me to see The Strokes and Yeah, Yeah Yeahs in London. We got so drunk and had the best time dancing around.
Went camping with Jess and Alex. It rained throughout, as is tradition.

Had a mad September.
Weekend in Coventry for Joel’s stag.
Flew to Northern Ireland for the week, travelled the Coastal Causeway and had the best time at their wedding.
Flew back, got changed and flew to Croatia.
Had the best week by the Adriatic with my love. We ate really well, racked up a bar bill I’d like to see you rival and swam in the sea every day.
Wrapped off the month by getting cosy and into soup season.
Two more tattoos and Taskmaster night at ours.
Oh, and I got an offer for the Italian rights to my novel. I cried.

Lots of fun in October.
Took Eggers out for a birthday dinner.
Went to see the excellent Mike Birbiglia.
Early Thanksgiving with Darren and Laura.
Off Menu at the Royal Albert Hall.
Blink 182 at the O2 with Edd and Nin.
Taylor Swift at Southend Odeon with 18 cans.
Another work trip ending in Chippy Alley.
Suspects in Ashford.

As documented, November saw me lose my mind with National Novel Writing Month. Some 63k words done in a month. Worth it.
Leaving Christmukkah dinner with Benjy and family.
The last improv shows of the year.
Tom came to visit and we took him for dinner and games.
Signed my book deal.
Seven Dials for a very special date.
E’s birthday. Went to London and stayed at Sea Containers, had drinks in their rooftop bar and the most incredible experience dining at Sollip.
Dinner and karaoke with her friends, followed by Switch.
Grayson Perry at Theatre Royal.

End of the year. December.
Darts night.
Dinner at Alchemy with Joey and Keren.
Phoebe’s birthday.
Art show at Twenty One.
Moving days.
Finally having a place to call our own.
Another publishing deal came in. I cried, again.
Christmas day in the flat.
Seeing all of our people. Being able to host them.
Having some much needed time.

This year has meant so much to me.
Here’s to many more.

Well, there it is.

I’ve finished.

Is it perfect? No.

Is it done? Yes.

Is that enough? For now.

This month has been an absolute cluster of too many things throwing themselves at me all at once. I released an album, wrote a book, performed in an improv show, somehow managed to make it through my job as well as worrying about a myriad of other things.
I would just like something to come to fruition so it doesn’t feel like I’m constantly throwing myself against a fire door.

I read this week that October, November and December are sometimes called “snow globe season” where it feels like everything in your life is just thrown about the place and you come out of it in January wondering what the hell happened.

That certainly feels accurate at this point. I am completely emotionally and physically drained. I cannot tell you how much the support I have had in the last month has been but I need a rest.

Am I going to take it though? No.

Instead, I’ll spend the next week preparing a script to send to the Writer’s Room because this is the only time of year when they are open to submissions.

After that, will I rest?

No. I’m going to be celebrating Hanukkah and moving house and making that into a home and then it’s Christmas and then it’s New Year. But then, I will rest.

For now, thank you to my mad little mind for allowing me to spend the last 30 days really going through it, abandoning my plan within the first five minutes of writing each day and just seeing where the wind takes us.

It feels good to be the king (of fractured sleep, lower back pain and problem drinking).

I was so busy writing last week that I didn’t post an update.
After three weeks of writing, I have hit 40,000 words. That includes a couple of days when I’ve not been able to write at all so I’ll take it.

At the moment, it’s looking like the story will naturally conclude at around 60k. Not sure if I’ll complete that within the 30 days but I will have at least hit the 50k target by 30th November.

This story has become something else. The fifteen(ish) chapters that I did plan out, by writing two or three words as guidance for each, has given way to something else. It turns out that the story got bigger, and didn’t want to follow the guidelines that were initially put in place. It’s all coming together though and has a sense of the other two books in this series as well as being the story of another of the Fire siblings in its own right.

I implore anyone who is still fighting the good fight when it comes to NaNoWriMo to be kind to themselves, take breaks, treat yourselves and know that this is a long road but that the end is in sight.

Write on!

Those of you who have been following my intermittent little blogging tales over the years will know that my white whale has always been to get a book published.

It fills my head and my heart with absolute joy to announce that I have today signed a publishing deal for my novel, The Counterfeiter of Auschwitz.

I would like to thank my agent, James, and everyone at Watson Little who has been so kind and patient. Emily, for being the first person to have a physical book in her hands and for holding me close through everything that this book has come to mean to me. My family, for asking when I was going to move them into the west wing of my fabulous castle. My friends, who have listened to me, supported me, laughed with me and propped up the bar until closing. Freya Berry and Katie Khan for talking me through processes that I didn’t full understand at the time. Jordan Gray for our various conversations on writing and being creative in general.

This book is the result of a fucking graft. I’ve always told people that everyone has a book in them and I stand by that. If you have something that you want to do then don’t let anything get in your way. People are capable of incredible things.

I’m off to drink an inordinate amount of cheap wine and to eat lasagne with the people who have been by my side through a tough year.

Mazel tov.

Well, I am back on this bullshit.
My twelfth year of taking part in National Novel Writing Month – the best opportunity to break someone down, build them back up and then break them down all over again just to show that you can.

For those of you who don’t know, NaNoWriMo (as it is commonly known) is a worldwide conspiracy to break the backs, eyes and minds of writers across the globe. We all agree to try and write 1,667 words a day for the 30 days of November, bringing a total of 50,000 words at the end of the month.

It’s something that I have done since 2012 and comes with a health warning, not for myself, but for anyone who may have to deal with me for the next three weeks.

This time around, I’m writing the third book of a seven book fantasy series about a flat earth where the elements have divided up into separate factions and are both at peace and at war with each other. It’s a passion project that I am unsure of in any real sense but it’s a nice escape from the work I do during the day and the very serious historic fiction (with a tinge of silliness) I seem to be writing with the rest of my time.

I’m at 20,000 words as of today. It’s ahead of the curve (you can do the maths) but I know that there was a year when I managed 50,000 words in just ten days. I must have truly broken myself that year. This time around, it’s just a stumble and the promise of more chocolate, booze and cuddles than usual to make it through.

God bless NaNoWriMo and all those who sail upon her.

For a long time, people thought I was being sarcastic when I told them I loved Taylor Swift. When everything you say seems to be barbed or drip a tone so wry, it’s hard to be taken seriously. I love Taylor though. I think she’s an incredible talent and deserving of every success she deserved.

I was so desperate for Eras Tour tickets that I applied for the shows not just in London, but also in Paris, using my DuoLingo-level of French to steer me through the French TicketMaster site with the assistance of a VPN. I didn’t get tickets for shows, either at home or away, so the alternative, a £20 ticket to the front row of my local multiplex, seemed like a good deal.
As much as I consider myself to be a fan, it’s nothing on the level that E operates at. There’s a level of fandom I can only aspire to.

I booked front row tickets because social media was already awash with people dancing at the Stop Making Sense screenings and I figured my fellow Swifties were not to be outdone when it came to concert films. The film has a running time of close to 3 hours. E and I will happily knock back three cans on a train journey home from London so quick maths told us we would need eighteen cans of a combination of White Claw, margarita and mojito to make it through the show. That’s not a small amount of weight to secrete into a backpack and take into a cinema without detection. I know there’s nothing that says you can’t take your own food and drink in, but I am pretty sure Odeon draw the line at binge drinking amongst tweens.

I’m not the first or last person to tell you that the film is a triumph. It is perfectly shot, capturing the LA gig, has incredible set pieces, choreography and a vocal range that you can soar aboard. Taylor Swift is an absolute star and the Eras shows serve as an example of her prowess. I was genuinely slack-jawed at points. The hits keep coming, as do the costume changes, microphone changes (one per Era I think) and dramatic pauses for Swift to be adored.

As for our experience, there were rows of kids behind us, who were happily videoing the show as if the piracy ads of my formative years had never caught them (they hadn’t because they’re actual children). Some officious usher had to shut it down and I notice that several cinema chains in the UK have since offered up lists of acceptable behaviours at these shows. I can’t help but be reminded of the Gentleminions craze.

Halfway through(? (maybe, I was drunk), they got up and started dancing in the aisles. Soon, E and I got up and danced too. If it wasn’t dark, if I was in any danger of being spotted by anyone I knew, and if I wasn’t six seltzers to the wind, I don’t know if I would have been quite so into it, but that’s the charm. The Eras Shows are a spectacle, and if you’re not making one of yourself, then what are you doing?

I’ve spent the last week in Croatia with E. We had the most incredible time, wandering around the Old Town, swimming in the sea every day and eating some incredible local food.

It feels like the longest time since I went on a trip like this. The fact that we were able to comes from a position of privilege that I’m acknowledging here so nobody can give me shit for it later down the line. That being said, these are the best things I found about Hvar.

Fortica
The imposing fortress at the top of the hills overlooking the harbour is well worth a visit. Wandering up through the stacked streets, we came by struggling tourists as well as a number of young parents with pushchairs and toddlers, staring at the upward trend ahead of them and wondering if it was worth it.
It is.
Entry was about €10 each but the views across the mountains and to the port were worth it alone. On top of that, there’s a prison to view, quaint little craft shops and a small cafe. In the right weather, it’s really something. Just don’t get caught by Hvar’s flash floods while that exposed.

The Harbour
While the nouveau rich may have done what they can to bring cocktail prices up north of €15 with their super-yachts and hideous tailoring, the marina itself looks like something out of Game of Thrones. While there’s good reason for that to be the case in other parts of Croatia, the old town of Hvar didn’t see any blood spilt in George R R Martin’s name.
The area also serves as a gateway across to some of the best restaurants we found.

Food
Dalmation cuisine is a combination of Mediterranean, Italian, Eastern European and something else entirely. We had some incredible boar, octopus, gnocchi, shrimp and beef dishes along with a lot of local wine. Croatia seems to be a country very proud of its food and there’s a good reason for it.
We were dipping bread in oil like Micky Flanagan.
I would absolutely recommend Giaxa, Konoba Menego and Lungo Mare – “where restaurant chef cooks for you”. The last of those recommendations came as the real experience to us. The waiting staff brought us free appetisers and drank shots with us, the chef showed off his medals(?) and a litre of wine was only €16.

Snorkelling/swimming
The coast around Hvar is beautiful and is best viewed when truly out of your depth. We took snorkels with us but there were a number of market stalls around town where you could buy them. The water was full of fish, sea urchins, and a little further out, delicious, intelligent octopi.

Aquapark
I believe it was the Jackass boys who said “if you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough” – I know it was actually Roger Alan Wade, but stick with me on this. This is the kind of thing that I would have absolutely loved when I was ten, so why would it be any different when I’m 36. We spent half an hour here for €10 each, which was enough time for me to yank my shoulder out of my socket and to feel every prat fall the following day.
It’s a great way to feel like a kid again or to ask your girlfriend to film you as you race around the course several times in the hopes of attaining a personal best.

Overall though, what truly made the trip was the company I kept.
E is a great travel buddy and we were on the same page about enjoying the same level of activities while recognising that there’s also a good time to sit on a sunbed (€10-€30 for a day in some places) and read a book or two with a Karlovacho beer.

On Saturday, I was lucky enough to be one of sixteen stags taking part in the Wolf Run for Joel’s stag party. I’ve worked with Joel for four years and think he’s one of the kindest and most handsome men I’ve ever met. I was delighted to be included and am very much looking forward to his wedding in a couple of weeks.

I haven’t done something like this in a long time. I’ve just checked and the last was a Commando Run in 2014. I was much younger then (obviously) but I don’t know if I was any fitter. I definitely wasn’t as strong. That was a similar thing – 10km run with a barrage of obstacles put in that were apparently used to train Marine Commandos.
Video link below.

The Wolf Run was different. It seemed intent on ascertaining how much mud the entrants could carry about their person. We threw ourselves over hay bails, ducked beneath runs of netting, and waded through swamps that were fit for an ogre. Over 10km, we worked together as a team, grabbing one another around the wrists to hoist out of a perilous pit or, quite frankly, using each other as glove puppets to try and push a new front up enough for them to get some leverage.

It was the most exhausting kind of fun, and I surprised myself with how capable I felt for most of it. There’s no secret to the fact that I’m a fervent gym boi. This was the first practical application of any strength training that I’ve done. There was only one muddy bank that I failed to climb up, and I’m putting that down to fatigue. I was over 8km (and two hours in) by then so it makes sense that I would start to fail.

There was an amazing sense of camaraderie to it all and I’m so glad I got to be a part of it.

Been there. Done that. Got the hideous t-shirt.