Monthly Archives: December 2005

Who the Arse Does Tim Brooke-Taylor Think He Is?

By Mat | Published: December 23, 2005
There’s a man coming to fix my TV, which tried to neck itself last week after inadvertently being left on for a whole episode of Threshold, and the repair company is only able to give me an appointment time accurate to the nearest geological epoch. So I’m forced to spend a whole day stuck inside the house waiting for him to come, a job made much more difficult by the necessity to avoid the fact that it’s a normal work day and I should be inside the house anyway, actually working. Here’s how it goes:
Posted in Evil Sulphura, The, complete mortification, editorial consultant, not writing, wrath | Comments closed

Broke, bit­ter, usu­ally half-cut by lunchtime

By Mat | Published: December 20, 2005
Two months ago, as I was in Las Vegas shooting Osama bin Laden with a machine gun, a man connected to the publishing industry was reading the choicest extracts from my novel. Before him were two stacks of paper: one piled heavy and high and marked ‘NO’, the other much shorter, marked ‘YES’ and, I’d like to think, haloed with tinkly stars dancing to a heavenly coloratura.
Posted in drinking, envy, photos, wrath | Comments closed

Truth, Beauty and Above All Quantum Superposition

By Mat | Published: December 13, 2005
Suddenly I’m at an imaginary party. “Nice party,” I say to a passing poet, rather lamely. She nods politely. I look around, a bit lost. “Listen,” I say, “do you know why I’m here?” “I don’t even know why I’m here,” she says crankily. “Why am I a poet? You’re making me up, you tell me.”
Posted in drinking, writing | Comments closed

The Other Georgia

By Mat | Published: December 5, 2005
There is a man looking in my study window from the back yard. I suddenly can’t remember where I keep the cricket bat. He’s swarthy, and he’s tapping on the glass and saying something which I can’t hear because I’m listening to some traditional Georgian choral music on my headphones and I’ve just turned up the volume as high as I can stand to get the full majestic effect.
Posted in Naomi Robson, complete mortification, neurosis | Comments closed