Lit Fiend Mail Continued…

20160823_115214Long ago and far away… That’s how it seems anyway, my days, years, spent in Kings Cross, Sydney NSW. All those streets I walked not so long ago… Anyway, after a few weeks respite, Dave the Postie once again arrived at the door of Ranchlette Ridgwell grumbling all the way…

‘More books Ridgwell, always books.’

‘Better than bills.’

‘I could get a slipped disc.’

‘Six months off on full pay, you’ll be laughing.’

Strangely Dave didn’t laugh at that, no sense of humour, but he did hand over several packages. And yes, as you marinate in your lonely wood louse infested bedsits, you’ve guessed it my fellow bibliophiles – more lit fiend mail.

This time, the third and final instalment of my novel – The Cross – arrived courtesy of Martin Appleby’s Paper and Ink Magazine and obtainable by clicking on this link – The Cross Part 3. I know fiends have been waiting for this mother to arrive on their doormat with thee old baited breath. And will it let them down, will it fuck! Adorned with classic Cross photography by Abbie Foxton part 3 finds the walls closing in on the three main characters and as the end of the century approaches Kings Cross is about to witness events that will change the glittering half mile forever! Just remember that the Cross is a state of mind!!

Next up Miss Urchin Belle’s – The Sunlight Pilgrims – follow up to her debut smash – The Panopticon – word on the lit vine is that shooting of the Panopticon is due to start within weeks! See stop press for further details. The SP’s is a disaster catastrophe end of the world identity-crisis combo, with all of the Belle’s trademark literary stye and verve – dealing with both the ugly and the beautiful in this world. Some hack referred to the book as possibly belonging to a genre known as Cli-Fi! No disrespect to the hack, but Cli-Fi sounds too close to Clit-Fi. What is it with these numptys, always having to pigeon hole shit. Lord give me the strength! Anyway the book is a killer and available from all good book stores. Pick up a copy el pronto is my advice!

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And last but not least. PUSH 22! Now, it doesn’t seem so long ago that PUSH head honcho Joe England called me and told me that he was thinking about putting a literary magazine together. I told him to stop talking about it and just do it, and the rest as they say is history. PUSH 22 is about as good as it gets, with some excellent poetry and fiction and a fascinating interview withMatt Johnson of The The. To purchase a copy, and you’ll need to start pumping those paypal buttons like a fiend possessed as those mothers sell out faster than you can squish another woodlice – go here – PUSH 22

Just one more thing lit fiends, word on the vine is that I’ll be reading at an event in September. (See poster for details) And see the fake book page. Absinthe & Anarchy You all know I hate readings, the sound of my own voice truly can freak me at any given moment, but every now and then I put on my smoking jacket and hit the road…

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And of course, my dear little tug boat ultras. Would I ever forget you darling wankers. No way Jose. Check out this Super 8mm stunner from the Top Gun Room. One, two, three, when you go down to the woods today…

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Lit Fiend Mail Continued – The Cross Part 2

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Cometh the hour, cometh the Postie!

Lit Fiend mail – don’t ya just love it!

Today Señor Sid the Mailman thrust – The Cross Part Two – through the door of Ranchlette Ridgwell without any due care and attention for the contents of the package. Royal Mail will be duly informed. The Cross Part 2 has just been published by Martin Appleby at Paper and Ink. The 2nd instalment in a three part series and which all you screwball lit fiends have been waiting for with baited breath while you squander the hours in cockroach infested bedsits all over the world! Well, it’s here and damned good it looks too. To order a copy – and be quick about it as there are only 50 copies in existence – go here:

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And it all started with Last Days of the Cross – seen here on the left. The Cross of course is long gone. Cleaned up and gentrified by a bunch of wealthy yet at the same time spiritually dead people. So even as I write these words – The Cross is a museum piece – a pean to a place and people that are – alas – no more. Some of them are even dead. It’s so long ago now that sometimes – in my darkest hours – I wonder if any of the events portrayed in the books took place and if I ever went to Australia. This is what happens when you set out to fictionalise your entire life – the lines between reality and fantasy begin to blur. Lit Fiends seeking to embark on a similar literary transportation – be warned – some of you might not make it back!

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Milk Race Avids – get behind the eight ball and feast your internet porn jaded optics on this 1970’s joystick! And no the pic isn’t fuzzy if that’s what you were thinking. You know what they say about bashing the bishop other than on your birthday! Maybe, just maybe, it’s time you sought professional help you sneaky bunch of wankers.

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An Unusual Editorial Vacancy, Jamaica & The Sunlight Pilgrims

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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!

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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.

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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.

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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!

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

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