Welcome to Jamaica…


Ok, I know what ya saying. Ridgwell’s taking the piss with all this lit fiend shit.He’s seriously starting to get on our nerves. Why don’t he just shut the fuck up and stop bragging? Well, what can I say, it never rains, but it pours! But Dave my beleaguered and overworked postie saved the best for last. And this time he refused to even knock on my door, but instead left the literary package with my neighbour, Stella. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Ridgwell’s neighbour is named after his favourite beer? But it’s all true!

So here it is – all the way from the a tiny little rock in the Mediterranean – Jamaica. Feast your eyes on this beauty and get turned on by a book! All other small presses’s look away now, as you don’t want to suffer an acute attack of the green-eyed monster blues.

Now fiends, start pumping those paypal buttons. To order a copy of this limited edition literary number go here: pig ear press



Jamaica – think Montego Bay – like rum served on a silver tray. Think Ronnie and yours truly having another mad adventure in an exotic location. Think also of Bobby Bloom and Glenn Gould who never went to Nice. Now check out this amazing video to get you in the Montego Bay mood! Obviously no expense was spared in the production of this film. Check out the funky dancers on the river bank. Far fucking out!

Milk Race Fans  – The Fourth Emergency Service is back in business. So you crazy screwballs zone your perverted optics on this super 8mm! One, two, three, strip!




An Unusual Editorial Vacancy, Jamaica & The Sunlight Pilgrims


Lit fiends – gather round – and listen to the tale of sorrow and sadness I, Joseph Ridgwell, have to tell. Just recently it was brought to my attention that the legendary head honcho of the Edinburgh Institution – The One O’Clock Gun – has been forced to resign his position due to mass hysteria and shameful Mary Whitehouse – like criticism of my short story – The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street – which featured in issue 21. Twelve years The Gibson has held that cherished position and unlike George Obsorne who when asked to resign due to ineptness was alleged to have replied – go fuck yourselves you bunch of fannies – The Gibson felt – in the face of fierce, voluble, and frankly entirely unwarranted condemnation – that his only option was to bale out.

CENSORSHIP BE DAMNED! Individuals must be free to write whatever they wish!

The fact that Gibson was forced to issue a grovelling apology in the latest edition of the Gun, (see pic below) to these anonymous cardigan knitting, minge-munching, latte slurping, cartel of uncultured crones is a sad indictment on society as a whole, and leads me to conclude that we – as a civilisation – are sleepwalking into another Dark Age!


Needless to say I will be wasting no time in applying for the newly created One O’Clock Gun Editorial vacancy. For as Bob Monkhouse used to say – When opportunity comes your way – don’t knock it!

And I shall, of course, endeavour to soldier on with my swashbuckling literary style till the cows come home. All of which leads me nicely to another imminent Ridgwell publication – Jamaica the sequel to cult classic Cuba and which will eventually form the weirdest trilogy this side of Havana. Jamaica is due out in the next few weeks and will be published by the downright sexy and cosmic Pig Ear Press. The Pig is currently holed up in some barren and godforsaken corner of the Mediterranean working like a burglar to get this beautiful boutique book out before Part 11 of the Cross hits the streets. All I can say about the book is that if you’ve never been to Jamaica after reading it you will be on the next flight to Kingston Town!

Here’s one for all you erudite and cock hungry feminists.


It’s all happening. Now lit fiends on the same universal wavelength know that I never ever write about poetry slams – especially sycophantic events occurring in Old Smokey. Slams usually showcase the more repugnant, pathetic, and odious side of humanity and in the main feature bad acting by bad actors, a double combo of revolting pish! However, every now and again the mainstream coughs up a curveball to illuminate the masses. This April an event is taking place that is well worth showing your boat at. It features Jenni – Miss Urchin Belle – Fagan who will be reading from her second novel – The Sunlight Pilgrims – which promises to be the mainstream hit of the year and the International Man of Leisure himself Mr Irvine – Maribou Stork Nightmares – Welsh! And if that ain’t enough to whet your lit fiend appetite the event takes place in that venerable East End boxing institution – York Hall. I’ll be in East London that weekend so if you keep your mince pies peeled you might spot me hanging around some ragged city street corner at 6AM feeling immortal and laughing at the sun.


Now I’m off to Wardie Bay with my Leica’s for another Granton Leviathan spotting mission. In two years I’ve yet to see even a dorsal fin, but I’m told it only appears once every three hundred years so the odds of me spotting the fucker of Edina myth and folklore are lonnnnnnnggggg!


Tugboat Champions – stay focused. Una dos tres – check out this mother! Another mind-bending Super 8MM eyeball buster for you crazy screwballs!




The Bells of the Cherokee Ponies

Lit fiend mail – don’t cha just love it!


And, finally, a hardback copy of Fire Island finds its groovy way to Ranchlette Ridgwell…


Milk Race fans – care to partake of a little Super 8mm action from across the channel? Uno, Dos, Tres – je t’aime,je t’aime,je t’aime…


Low Fi – Low Res – Cuba – In Search of Hemingway – Jago Film

Nobody likes a slick operation, especially lit fiends, what we like is stuff that’s a little edgy, a little rough around the edges, we’re talking low fi low res. Slick equals cheese on toast.

And so here is some shaky footage of me reading from, Cuba – In Search of Hemingway. Note to fiends and wannabe writers, actors etc – check out the perfect pronounciation – fucking seamless. Lawrence Olivier eat ya heart out.

If anyone is interested in purchasing a copy of this delightful underground production then contact the publisher at:


Or if you fancy yourself as a high roller then contact me at the contacts page of this website. I have five signed copies available for purchase at the princely sum of £20 each.

This hand sewn book is beautifully crafted and comes with a small letter pressed broadside of three of my long lost beach poems. The beach poems were composed on the indonesian island of Java in 1997. They came out fully formed just as they appear on the page. After this I went to Australia and never wrote another word for five years.

And for my loyal legion of milk race devotees, have no fear for I never, ever disappoint:


P.S – For all you fiends wondering if any footage from the Child of the Jago event at Orford House Social Club will see the light of day, then stay sane, for a film of the night is currently being put together by an elite independent film company. Interviews by Joe England, photos, and a poem by Ford Dagenham also included. Everyone who attended the unforgettable evening has been captured on film along with all the performers. So, stay tuned for more details and see yourself on camera…

Fire Island Hits the Streets

To say, as a writer, I’ve been blessed with the sort of publishers who publish my work would be an understatement. From the very first, Blackheath Books to Kilmog Press, Tangerine Press, Bottle of Smoke Press and GJ Press, each and everyone has been a joy to work with. And now with my latest collection of poetry, you can add, Pig Ear Press to that venerable list of indie greats. Pete Lally has come up with the goods, with a lovely slim volume that is Fire Island. Of course, you will have to purchase a copy to make a judgement and you can do that by clicking on the link below or on any of the pics. And be quick, for there are only 25 of these mothers and you don’t need to be Liberace to realise that’s not many!

Also, how these poems ever came to be is an interesting story in itself, which is partly explained in the intro to the book.


As for the writing contained inside this beautiful piece of art, again you will have to read to make a judgement. That’s your call. All I know is that although I’m still poorer than a church mouse’s tittie, in some aspects of my life I’m very rich indeed.

Joe R



And now, lit fiends, some more pics to get you in the indie lit fiend groove. Enjoy!

Ah, and after what I consider to be the best night of poetry since Homer pegged it, I feel a hair of the dog is in order. For life is meant to be fun, so enjoy yourself as it probably much later than you think…

Viva the Betsy Trotwood, viva poetry, viva poems, viva pig ear press, viva pete lally, viva fire island, viva cape verdi, Senor Curran and Joan Jobe Smith, Fred Voss, me, Jenni Fagan, Adelle Stripe, Sophie Cameron, Tim Wells!