'The great crime fiction author, Agnes Crabbe, was born in Nasely in South Herewardshire on the eighth of May 1895. Which is why, on or around the date of her birth every year, hundreds of her most devoted fans descend upon the little village to enjoy a weekend of readings, competitions, screenings, dramatic re-enactments, historical tours and talks by Crabbe scholars and other eminent people. From what started out as little more than a local book club, Nasely’s annual Agnes Crabbe Murder-Mystery Festival has quickly grown to become one of the most popular literary festivals in Great Britain.' - taken from the intro by Colin Tossel (Nasely Historical Society) to the 2015 Agnes Crabbe Murder-Mystery Festival Brochure. 

 

If Agnes Crabbe had been a real person, and Nasely a real village, it would be full of crowds this weekend. Because this weekend is when the 2018 festival would have been held. And didn't they have the weather for it this year? 

Of course, the 2016 festival was marred by a murder taking place at a prominent location. So I thought it might be fun to have another one. Here's a scenario, adapted from one in a Family Fun book from the 1950s. See how you get on ... and I'll post the solution in a day or two. Do feel free, in the meantime, to post your solutions as comments! 

Meanwhile, please do pledge on The Diabolical Club if you haven't already and, if you haven't left a review of A Murder To Die For on Amazon or Goodreads, do that too!


 THE CORPSE IN THE CAR 


The heavy rain, which had persisted for nearly two hours, suddenly ceased at noon and the sun broke through. Two ramblers emerged from the shelter of the trees and strode off towards Nasely. At around 2.30pm they found a car parked by the side of the road and stopped to ask for directions. What they found became known as the Corpse in the Car Mystery. 


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Inspector McNabb arrived at the scene and was assured by Constable Stubbins that nothing had been touched. He was accompanied by the police surgeon. Slumped in the driver's seat of the car was a middle-aged man, his face fixed in an expression of absolute agony. On the floor of the car, close to the pedals, lay a small bottle labelled 'Strychnine'. Later examination would show that the only fingerprints on the bottle belonged to the driver. There was also a cigarette stub in the middle of the passenger seat along with a hand-written note that said, 'Since my wife's death life has become intolerable and I am taking a quick way out - John Owen'.


 
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The police surgeon examined the body and pronounced death by strychnine poisoning, the death having occured between 10am and 11am that morning. 

'Who discovered the body?' asked the surgeon.

'A couple of ramblers,' said Inspector McNabb. 'So, what's your opinion, Doctor? Suicide or murder?'

'I'd say suicide,' said the doctor.

'Would you now,' said the Inspector. He re-examined the cigarette stub and compared it with one that was inside a packet found in the victim's pocket. The two cigarettes matched.


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'I'm afraid you're wrong Doctor.' said McNabb. 'This is murder!'


 Can YOU figure out why?

Another Festival ... Another Murder!

As you lovely, lovely subscribers know (or do now), you'll all be getting a bonus e-book to say thank you for supporting The Diabolical Club. I felt that it was only right, as you've put your faith in me and the book (and you're paying more than the cover price will be in the shops), that you get something unique and not available elsewhere as a reward. So, today I can reveal exactly what that bonus book will be. 

The Nearly Invisible Man and Other Stories really will be a book in its own right. It's around 50,000 words (the average novel is 70,000 - 90,000) and will consist of twelve unpublished short stories and novellas featuring characters from A Murder to Die For, The Diabolical Club and the third, as yet unpublished, book in the series, Cockerings. You'll also get a sneak preview of Cockerings in the form of the first two chapters - I'll probably run a campaign to fund it with Unbound later this year.

The chapter listing for the book looks like this:


 Slightly Foxed


The Nearly Invisible Man (A DCI Quisty story)


 Go To Hell!


A Soft Answer (A Miss Cutter story)


 Merry Christmas Mister Whelk


Medium Well Done (A DCI Quisty story)


 Potato Salad Days



 Five Go To The Captain’s Cottage



 Man Of Hunger


The Perfect Crime (A DCI Quisty story)

The Sheriff of Pardley


 The Promise Of A Better Tomorrow – A Christmas Story



 An extract from the forthcoming novel Cockerings


As you can see, there are three stories featuring DCI Gavin Quisty and one Miss Cutter adventure written by Agnes Crabbe herself!

I hope you'll enjoy it as much as the novels.

Bonus!

We have a cover!


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(Ignore the quotes - they're from A Murder To Die For and only there as a placeholder. New cover quotes are incoming.)

Once again the cover is by the amazing Neil Gower and it mirrors the previous book's design. 


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While A Murder To Die For took place in May (hence the Spring/Summer colours), The Diabolical Club takes place in October so we've gone for an Autumnal/Winter theme. Looks great doesn't it? Here;'s the back cover blurb ...


 Strange things are going on in Black Dog Wood…



 A blindfolded skeleton has been unearthed, there have been sightings of some kind of monster, and rumours abound of naughty goings-on at night. And then the local MP, Sir Giles Luscott-Whorne, is accused of murder.



 Giles’s best chance to prove his innocence lies with retired police detective Frank Shunter. Can he discover whodunit? And what connects all of these curious events to a long-lost manuscript by crime author Agnes Crabbe?



 In this sequel to A Murder to Die For, Stevyn Colgan once again takes us back to South Herewardshire for a comedy of murderous proportions


And I can't wait for you to read it. :)

Cover me up!

Hello m'lovelies.

Not a lot to report - but here's the news that's fit to print :)

Since my last post on the 1st March, the book has only garnered an additional 4% and we're teetering on the brink of 40%. One more pledge should push us over. But there's still another 60% to go and, like all crowdfunders, I've been going through those dark nights of the soul and wondering whether The Diabolical Club will ever see the light of day. But I'm not someone who gives up easily! So I've added some new pledge levels this past week and there's a new extract for people to read attached to this page. The fight goes on!

In the meantime the prequel, A Murder To Die For, is still selling well and is turning up in bookshops everywhere. The reviews for it on Amazon and Goodreads are all very positive and mostly 5*****, which is very flattering. And, last Thursday, I had the great pleasure of spending an evening talking about writing, murder-mystery and the Unbound experience at Waterstones' huge branch in Oxford. I still haven't quite got over seeing this in their window:


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Every author dreams of things like this. It would be lovely to see The Diabolical Club follow the same path.

What's next? Well, the audiobook is being recorded in the middle of April by none other than Rula Lenska. I'll be popping along to the studios to meet her and the team at Isis Audiobooks to grab a few selfies and some words from them.

Oh, and my author portrait from the inside back cover of A Murder To Die For has had two outings this week: once on that poster in Waterstones, and also in an art exhibition. Yes! I've been a work of art! 

Mark Page is an award-winning photographer (and is currently the UK's Erotic Artist of the Year - I love telling people that he did my portrait!). However, he's now moving away from naked people and spending more time doing street photography. His latest exhibition is called Faces of Wycombe and hundreds of his powerful black and white portraits have been on display in a gallery in the town this week. They capture everyone he managed to persuade to have their photograph taken during a handful of pop-up studio days in the town centre (me among them) last year. It's a wonderful snapshot of the town - which has always been an eclectic and arty place - and its many characters. I was delighted to be part of it and even more delighted that Mark has received so much acclaim for his work.

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The campaign fights on!

Crawling Slowly

What a difference three weeks makes, eh?

Thanks to you lovely people, we're 25% funded already. To provide some sort of comparison, A Murder To Die For took twice as long to reach the quarter mark. But we can't rest on our laurels - if we want the book to come out sooner rather than later, we need more supporters.

Tell your friends.

Promote it on social media.

And PLEASE leave reviews for A Murder To Die For on Amazon, Bookreads and any other review site. The more people who read the first book, the more (hopefully) will pledge for the second.

In other news, the audiobook of 'Murder' will be out in May and is being read by the fabulous Rula Lenska. I don't mind admitting that I am delighted! She's been in all of my favourite shows from Doctor Who to Space 1999, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and even Inside No.9.


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I wonder if she'll read The Diabolical Club?  :D

25% and rising!

Crikey!

'Where do you get your ideas?'


It's the question that all writers fear. And it's the question that's most difficult to answer.

Neil Gaiman used to say that he got his 'from the Idea-of-the-Month Club,’ or 'from a little ideas shop in Bognor Regis.’ Other writers have given glib replies claiming that there is a secret society who send you ideas once you've been published. The rather more mundane truth is that they just ... happen. Sometimes they start off as daydreams and random thoughts (I get a lot of ideas when out walking my dogs in the countryside). George Orwell came up with Animal Farm after watching a boy walking a cart-horse and thinking to himself, 'What if animals knew how strong they are?'  Sometimes they simply form out of things you've read or heard. Ian McEwen wrote Atonement when his father's war stories reached a kind of 'saturation point' and assembled themselves into a narrative in his head.

Everyday life is fertile ground too. So many situations in my books are based on real events. Take this example (and a sneaky peek) from The Diabolical Club:


 She pointed to a substantial twin pedestal desk with a green leather top. ‘The direct sunlight is fading the leather, you see. But it’s Victorian and solid oak and it needs two people to move it and, sadly, I can’t help as I have a prolapsed disc. Or perhaps DC Jaine wouldn’t mind?’ 



 ‘Happy to help,’ said Jaine gallantly and was rewarded with a smile from Miss Kingshaw. 



 Miss Deak rose from her chair. Now that she was standing, Jaine could see that she was probably a little taller than he was. She was certainly broader and his mind was suddenly filled with images of Russian shot putters. She positioned herself at one end of the desk. Jaine did the same and stooped to get a firm grip. 



 ‘Ready?’ said Miss Deak. Jaine nodded and braced himself. ‘One, two, three ...’ 



 Jaine held his breath and strained to lift the heavy desk and, as he did so, he broke wind noisily. However, there was no time for an apology as Miss Deak was already shuffling backwards and dragging him and the desk with her. As he moved he became aware of the fact that his pressure fart hadn’t just been offensively loud. 



 ‘Down,’ instructed Miss Deak. Jaine lowered the desk to its new position and straightened up, his face glowing red as much from embarrassment as exertion. To his shame, both Miss Bultitude and Miss Kingshaw were looking distinctly green about the gills, their faces pinched in repugnance. 


I was about fifteen and besotted with a fellow pupil at my school called Tracy North. She was trying to move a heavy piece of gym equipment and I saw a chance to impress her. You know the rest. I never did ask her out. Sigh. Now, some forty-odd years later, I've pinned my shame to the page.

People-watching is a constant source of joy. I love to imagine their lives: what they do, where they live, who they live with, their hobbies and passions and darkest secrets. And, every so often, I read about a person's life and I 'borrow' aspects of them for my characters. A good example of this is my reclusive fictional murder-mystery author Agnes Crabbe. She's at the heart of my first novel A Murder To Die For and also features heavily in The Diabolical Club. In many ways she was inspired by Agatha Christie - even the initials are the same - but she was mostly modelled upon the extraordinary Vivian Maier. I'll explain why in a moment.


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A Murder To Die For was all about a murder at a murder-mystery festival. And I knew that there was comedy to be had from throwing two very different cultures at each other (all the best comedy and drama comes from conflict) who shared a common goal. It was classic crime fiction fans versus the police in a race to the finish. What I was missing was some element that would turn my murder-mystery fans into rabid murder-mystery fans. Vivian Maier provided that missing link.

Vivian Dorothy Maier (February 1, 1926 – April 21, 2009) was an American street photographer. She worked for about forty years as a nanny, mostly in Chicago, and took photographs in her spare time. In fact, she took more than 150,000 photographs during her lifetime, primarily of the people and architecture of New York City, Chicago, and Los Angeles, although she also traveled and photographed worldwide. However, during her lifetime, Maier's photographs were unknown and unpublished and many of her negatives were never even printed. For reasons too complex to go into here, this was a conscious decision on her part. She lived in poverty towards the end of her life and failed to keep up payments on a storage unit. The contents eventually came up for auction, which is how she was 'discovered' by a man called John Maloof who bought some of her photos in 2007. Two other Chicago-based collectors, Ron Slattery and Randy Prow, also obtained some of her prints and negatives that they found in boxes and suitcases. These are some of her amazing photos:


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<img alt class="doksoft_image_img" height="500" src="https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0728/3615/3620/files/Vivian_Maier_B_03.jpg?v=1690911069" width="500"> 
 
Sadly, Maloof never got to meet her as she was almost invisible on the internet and, in fact, he only finally tracked her down when her death notice appeared in a Chicago newspaper in 2009. Maloof then linked a selection of Maier's photos on FLICKR to his blog and the results went viral. As the result, her work has been critically acclaimed ever since and has been exhibited in galleries all over the world. 
 
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It's extraordinary work isn't it? 

If you'd like to know more about her, I suggest you seek out the documentary Finding Vivian Maier by John Maloof - it turns up on the Sky Arts channel and other places periodically - or read Pamela Bannos's excellent book about her.

<img alt="" class="doksoft_image_img" height="500" src="/images/6718/preview/medium" width="375">.

It was the 'only being discovered after her death' that gave me the perfect reason for why Agnes Crabbe's fans are more passionate that those of, say, Margery Allingham or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle or Christie herself.

I had Agnes Crabbe keep her writing to herself throughout her life, just as Maier did with her photographs. Consequently, when her cache of unpublished Golden Age novels - left with a solicitor in a suitcase to be opened after her death - is discovered in 2000, her fans become super-obsessed with the need to elevate her to the ranks of the Queens of Crime along with Ngaio Marsh, Dorothy L Sayers and other writers that I've mentioned already. And because the discovery of her work is so fresh and new, the various fan groups are always jostling for position as the experts and there is much argument among Crabbe scholars about her reclusive life, about her plots and characters and, to bring this little blogpost full circle, her inspiration: Where did she get her ideas from?  

Vivian Maier inspired Agnes Crabbe. And now, Agnes Crabbe has inspired me. The next time I get asked 'Where do you get your ideas from?' I'm going to say, 'Well, there was this writer and she put all of her ideas into a locked suitcase and when it was discovered in 2000, there were all these new ideas to plunder ...'

________________________________________________________________________

It's been a good first month for the campaign to fund The Diabolical Club and I'm teetering on the brink of being 30% funded. But I need your help. 

If you enjoyed A Murder To Die For, please consider supporting the sequel and sooner rather than later. If we miss the cut-off for fiction releases, it'll mean a wait of over a year like we had for 'Murder'. If you want to read the sequel within the next twelve months you need to pledge now. <a href="https://unbound.com/books/the-diabolical-club/">Simply click here</a>.

If you don't want to or can't support the new book, that's fine too. But please spread the word if you can.

If you're a book blogger, I'd be delighted to talk to you. I did a lovely interview last week with Linda Nagle that you can <a href="https://liberatetutemet.com/2018/01/25/interview-stevyn-colgan-a-murder-to-die-for/">read here</a>. Or please review the book.

And if you're a reader, please leave a review of A Murder To Die For on Amazon, Goodreads etc. The more reviews, the more the book gets marketed, the more people buy it and read it. It takes just a couple of minutes but the effects can last a lifetime!


 <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B072NZ1VR1/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&amp;btkr=1">Amazon </a>



 <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35004372-a-murder-to-die-for">Goodreads </a>


Thanks!

Sx

F*rts and Photographers - Where do ideas come from?

I hope that you and yours have a merry, happy, oustanding Christmas and New Year.

Recorded over several days. Excuse the wandering key changes.

Happy Christmas!

Hello there!

Hey you lovely Pledgemakers! I'm guessing that most of you are subscribed to THE DIABOLICAL CLUB because you read the prequel.

If so, then PLEASE consider voting for me in the Dead Good Readers' Awards. A MURDER TO DIE FOR is shortlisted in the brilliantly-named 'Cabot Cove Award for Best Small Town Mystery' and I'm up against some big hitters. 


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You made the book happen. Now you can make it an award-winning book!

EVERY vote counts and it only takes a second! 

Thanks in (hopeful) advance!

Here's the <a href="https://www.deadgoodbooks.co.uk/dead-good-reader-awards-2018/">link.</a>

Help make a book an award-winning book!

Yes indeedy! The audiobook of A Murder To Die For is released today and is available from Audible, Amazon, iTunes, ISIS Publishing and wherever audiobooks are sold. Over nine hours of Rula Lenska deliciousness, murder, mayhem and laughs! Enjoy!


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And DO keep tweeting, posting, reviewing, and otherwise spreading the word about The Diabolical Club! The book is written and ready to go - all I need is the funding to start the publication ball rolling.

We're over halfway (51%) there and it would be a fantastic birthday present for me if we could hit 100% by 11th August!

Carpe diem!

Sx

It's Audiobook Release Day!

Okay people, time for a prize draw! The Diabolical Club is 52% funded and I want to get it closer to 100% and publication. 

So, here's what I'm going to do ...

When the funding level reaches 75% I'll put the names of every pledger, existing or new, into a hat and let someone randomly draw out a winner. The winner will then choose from a range of prizes. Then I'll do the same again. And then the same again. And so on until I run out of prizes. Okay. Ten prizes.

So what swag is up for grab?

How about a copy of the audiobook, read by Rula Lenska, of A Murder To Die For, the prequel to The Diabolical Club on MP3 DVD? I might even sign it.


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Or how about a signed hardback copy of Ruth Rendell's Thirteen Steps Down? Or a signed paperback copy of Stephen Fry's The Fry Chronicles? There will be more. Oh and I'll be offering bespoke artwork by me too.

BUT you have to be in it to win it i.e. You have to have subscribed at some level. AND the book has to reach 75%.

So if you haven't subscribed yet, do so! It costs as little as a tenner.

And, if you're already a subscriber, kick others to do so! The quicker we get there, the quickeer we do the prize draw.

Oh, and the book will be 3/4 of the way to be funded of course :)

It's Prize Draw Time!

Hey lovely patron people!  How do you fancy a sneaky listen to the first chapter of the audiobook of A Murder To Die For - prequel to THe Diabolical Club -  as read by Rula Lenska? You do? Oh, go on then. Just click <a href="https://soundcloud.com/isisaudio/a-murder-to-die-for-by-stevyn-colgan/s-LzeMt">here</a>.


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It's on sale as a CD and download from1st June.

And, if we can get the sequel funded (50% of the way there!) it may well get the audiobook treatment too.

Exciting times!

Listen up!

I went over to Oxford today to the studios of ISIS publishing to meet the team and to say hello to the gorgeous Rula Lenska who has spent yesterday and today recording the audiobook of A Murder To Die For. It'll be out in June.


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So let's get The Diabolical Club funded sooner rather than later because she wants to read that too!

Look where a pledge can lead you!

I'm a fan of Jessica Fletcher and I don't mind admitting it. I've seen every episode of Murder She Wrote several times (including the four TV movies) and I love it. It's cosy, silly nonsense. Pure entertainment. 

The shows are constantly on repeat on TV and, just recently, one of the ITV channels has started showing the later series; you can tell that they're later because the opening titles feature Angela Lansbury using a PC rather than a typewriter. We also get a glimpse of her writing. And, frankly, for a bestselling author, it isn't that great ...

Back in her typewriter days, all we ever got from the titles was a fleeting glimpse of the enigmatic sentence 'Arnold raced out of the door ...' but now, in the computer age, we get to see much more. Here's a photo I took on my TV (click on it to make it larger):


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 'Meeting the bag and him upon arrival'? 



 'As sson (sic) as they arrived they departed'?



 'With a lark and a heart beat our hero Arnold jumped into a yellow cab and chose to follow his voyeur mind while his broken heart looked for the courage to find Michelle''?? 


It's terrible! All I can say is that J B Fletcher must have had bloody good editors. And who is 'our hero Arnold' anyway. Is he the same Arnold who raced out of the door? Could he be the Inspector Jellicoe mentioned in the TV series as Fletcher's fictional detective?

We may never know. 

Still, if someone writes this badly and becomes a bestselling author, it proves that there's hope for us all!

______________________________________________

Don't forget that you can vote for A Murder To Die For in the Dead Good Readers' Awards - in the appropriately-named 'Cabot Cove Award') until the 18th July! Click <a href="https://www.deadgoodbooks.co.uk/dead-good-reader-awards-2018/">here</a>.


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Murder She Wrote ... Badly

Hello chums.

I do apologise for the lack of updates for a month but there's really been no news to share. Funding is still floundering and I'm waiting for a meeting with Unbound to discuss options for moving the book forward on a cheaper production plan. That said, it's been a good opportunity to revisit the manuscript and to do a final re-write - well, a little tweaking - while I have the luxury of time. I reckon it's reading pretty well and it's been through two rounds of critical readers so any plot wrinkles or clunky passages should have been ironed out.

 Meanwhile I've been up to my usual tricks ... talks and book festivals and other sundry appearances. And I've been doing a second series of the curiously named 'The Emperor's Bits' radio show on my local award-winning community station Wycombe Sound 106.6FM. I co-host the show with Andy Aliffe, an ex-senior BBC radio producer, and in every episode we look for the quirky and fascinating stories, people and places to be found in this area of Buckinghamshire. It's doubly joyous for me because this is also where my fictional South Herewardshire is set.


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So far we've done stories about a massacre in Denham Village and mad Victorian inventors. We've visited the National Film and Television School (where Wallace and Gromit were born) and Bekonscot - the oldest model village in the world. We've stood on the set where they filmed Brief Encounter and sat in the cinema where Sid James and co watched 'Nudist Paradise' at the start of Carry On Camping. And we were nominated for 'Best entertainment show' at the national community radio awards. It's the third award I've been nominated for and failed to win this year! Ha!


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We even get to make silly little films too (see above). It may be a radio show but in these days of social media, we have to do radio with pictures to promote ourselves.

It's been great fun and it's furnished me with no end of locations and characters to include in future books.

But one at a time, eh?

Let's get this one out first.

No news is no news

Ah well, A Murder To Die For didn't win at the Dead Good Readers Awards in Harrogate this year. But it was shortlisted and was a runner-up. And I'm happy to take that. It was pretty humbling to have been nominated in the first place for a first novel. And, to be honest, it would have been a minor miracle if I had won, considering the well-publicised and bestselling contenders that I was up against. Worthy winners all. I'm proud to have been considered alongside them.

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But now it's back to reality and the push to get the sequel The Diabolical Club funded. We're over the halfway mark so we're on the downward slope. Trying to pull in the pledgers during the Summer is always tricky as there are so many other things going on - Summer holidays and a house full of kids chief among them - but I'll keep the pressure on :)

Who knows? The Dead Good Readers Awards again next year? :D

Noble in Defeat

It's here boys and girls. And YOU, yes lovely fantastic YOU made it happen.

Watch those letterboxes over the next few weeks ...

Oh my ...

Hello all.

Here's a short update about what's going on in the world of A Murder To Die For and The Diabolical Club.

Firstly, TDC is finished! It's been through a raft of re-writes and critical reads and it will, once funded, go through a further series of edits and proofreads, of course. But it's pretty much there and I'm very pleased with it. If you enjoyed AMTDF, I don't think you'll be disappointed.

Secondly, we held a belated launch party for AMTDF this week at Conway Hall in London. I dressed up as a male Milly (or Manly, as I'm calling them) and a brilliant company of players called <a href="http://www.charaderie.co.uk/">Charaderie</a> came in and ran the evening as a murder-mystery party. It was fantastic! Poisonings, shoot-outs and surprises galore as we all tried to guess whodunit.


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I suspect we'll do something similar for the launch of TDC. It was too much fun not to. I wonder if that will affect your funding level decisions? :D

Lastly, it's probably time I put you all out of your misery as regards the Agatha Christie anagrams hidden in AMTDF. Several people asked me for the answers at the party, so what I'll do is this:

If you want to know the answers, <a href="http://amurdertodiefor.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/">follow this link</a>. If you don't want to know, then keep at it!

And, trust me, what I've hidden within TDC is even more devious ...

Keep spreading the word!

Putting you out of your Misery

Hello m'lovelies. Remember me?


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Well, it's been two years now since A Murder To Die For  burst into <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Murder-Die-Stevyn-Colgan/dp/1783524383/ref=pd_sbs_14_img_0/261-9307610-8355127?_encoding=UTF8&amp;pd_rd_i=1783524383&amp;pd_rd_r=95b20c2c-8fec-46df-b3ba-0ef7622d19b8&amp;pd_rd_w=W8adg&amp;pd_rd_wg=6fhXj&amp;pf_rd_p=e44592b5-e56d-44c2-a4f9-dbdc09b29395&amp;pf_rd_r=V730PZJG0GCA18KEBP5H&amp;psc=1&amp;refRID=V730PZJG0GCA18KEBP5H">existence</a> - all thanks to you.

It's been seen in bookshops up and down the UK, it's been turned into an audiobook - read by the fabulous Rula Lenska - and it's been nominated for two awards. Most importantly, it's garnered hundreds of reviews and they have been overwhelmingly glowing. I've made people laugh. That's what I wanted to do.

A sequel called The Diabolical Club was <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Diabolical-Club-Stevyn-Colgan/dp/1789650399">published this year</a>, again to rave reviews. And Rula Lenska asked to read the audiobook as she'd enjoyed the first one so much.

And now the third book in the trilogy is being <a href="https://unbound.com/books/cockerings/">crowdfunded</a>. Called Cockerings (pronounced 'corrings') it's the funniest of the three and it ties up the final loose ends from the first two books.

It centres on a brother and sister - Berkeley and Marcheline Cockering - and a squabble over an inheritance. But then a geriatric circus comes limping into their world - crumbling tumblers, arthritic acrobats and decrepit daredevils who simply cannot imagine any other life and are doomed to perform until they die - and Berkeley is inspired to employ the circus's unique talent for creating chaos to cheat his sister. Expect incontinent elephants, a terrible moment involving a penis pump, and clowns being maimed. Oh yes, I hurt some clowns in this book.

You'll also find out what happened to Detective Inspector Brian Blount who messed up so spectacularly in A Murder To Die For.

So, if you enjoyed my previous book, or books, and you want to complete the set, or you just fancy a good belly laugh, please consider pledging on Cockerings. <a href="https://unbound.com/books/cockerings/">Here's the link</a>.

Thank you.

Remember me?

Hello splendid supporters

August zoomed by didn't it? Heatwaves and holidays. I spent some of it in the Outer Hebrides, which was nice as it was cooler than down South while still sunny and warm. You can see some photos from the trip on my blog <a href="http://amurdertodiefor.blogspot.com/2018/09/where-did-august-go.html">here</a>,  And it was fantastic to see A Murder To Die For nominated for two awards.


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But now it's September, the kids are back at school, the tan is fading and real life has crashed through the wall and into my living room. Sadly, I'm having to face the reality that The Diabolical Club is going nowhere fast. Or, rather, ponderously slowly.

Perhaps I was lulled into a false sense of security by how well the first book was recieved? Perhaps I'm just naive. I thought that TDC would fund fairly quickly. The reviews for AMTDF have been very complimentary and, on Amazon and Goodreads, 99% of them are five star. People regularly post on social media how much they've enjoyed it and, as I said, it's been shortlisted for two awards. And yet, half the number of people who subscribed to AMTDF have plumped for the sequel. TDC hit 50% back in May and has since crawled just 6% towards its total. 

I am therefore forced to look at alternative options to get the book to you. One of these may be to substantially reduce production costs. That may mean a change of cover artist and a less designed final product. It will certainly mean a drastic cut in promotional budgets, print runs and less availability in shops. But I am determined that you lovely subscribers will still get something over and above what the retail punters will get. How I do that is yet to be decided. But you deserve something extra for believing in me and the book.

So, discussions are afoot. Hopefully we'll find some way to make the book happen. And sooner rather than later; you've already waited nine months. I'm determined not to pull it from the Unbound list. It's a good book; personally, I think it's funnier than AMTDF and there are some great new characters to introduce you to.

Watch this space.

Season of change

Sorry to bombard you lovely pledgers but A Murder To Die For has been nominated for an award and I need your votes!


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Voting has begun for the 2018 Dead Good Readers' Awards and I'm in with a chance this year in the category of: The Cabot Cove Award for Small Town Mystery. So, if you enjoyed the book, please take a couple of minutes to vote. Oh, and feel free to vote in any other additional categories too!

Just <a href="https://www.deadgoodbooks.co.uk/dead-good-reader-awards-2018/">click here</a>!

Ta!

STOP PRESS!

I made another video while dog walking this week in the hope that I may entice a few more last minute pledges for The Diabolical Club. I've stressed the fact that, although the pledge levels are more expensive than the book will be in the shops (and discounted online), there are advantages to pledging.

Firstly there's your name printed in the book, forever immortalised as a patron (just think, there will be a copy in the British Library FOREVER. Or until the zombie/nuclear/environmental/alien invasion apocalypse anyway). 

But secondly there's the fact that you'll get two books for the price of one. Yes indeedy, an e-book of short stories and articles tentatively titled The Nearly Invisible Man and Other Stories will wing its way to all pledgers at every level.

There will be some DCI Quisty whodunnits, an Agnes Crabbe short story featuring Millicent 'Milly' Cutter, and other tales involving characters from the novels. AND there will be TWO WHOLE CHAPTERS from the third book in the trilogy which I hope to crowdfund next year - it's a kind of teaser trailer. In total it amounts to around 50,000 words which is nearly 2/3rds the size of one of my novels.   

That's not a bad deal is it? And pledgers will get their books before the shops too - it's slated for a July publication but the process is aready underway.

Anyhow, there will be one more update before Christmas and then I'll leave you alone to enjoy the festivities.

Teaser Trailer

Hello lovely subscriber!

Here’s your bonus; your not-to-be-found-at-any-price-in-the-shops collection of South Herewardshire short stories featuring DCI Gavin Quisty and DS Kim Woon, the curiously knowledgeable Mr Boffle, the incorrigible Captain Jack Clancaster and a cast of characters from the first two books. PLUS a story by the queen of crime herself, Agnes Crabbe.

Download the epub file <a href="https://www.dropbox.com/s/4ubicaupu6eqixj/The%20Nearly%20Invisible%20Man%20%28and%20Other%20Stories%29.epub?dl=0">here</a> and the mobi file <a href="https://www.dropbox.com/s/oo2ybwdqxp0b0qh/The%20Nearly%20Invisible%20Man%20%28and%20Other%20Stories%29%20-%20Stevyn%20Colgan.mobi?dl=0">here</a>. 
  
This e-book is a gift from me to YOU to say thank you for sticking with me and for making ‘The Diabolical Club’ a reality. Haven’t the Unbounders made a great job of it? 
  
Roll on us reaching 100% for ‘<a href="https://unbound.com/books/cockerings/">Cockerings</a>’ - the next book in the series!  
  
Stevyn x

The Nearly Invisible Man

Blimey chums! Just as I'm getting over the excitement of making he shortlist for the DEAD GOOD READERS AWARDS 2018, I now discover that A MURDER TO DIE FOR - prequel to THE DIABOLICAL CLUB - has made the longlist for the GUARDIAN's <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2018/jul/30/not-the-booker-longlist-vote-now-to-decide-the-2018-shortlist">NOT THE BOOKER</a> Prize! 

So now I have to ask for votes.


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If you were a subscriber to 'Murder' (and I suspect that most of you were) then YOU made the book happen. It was your belief in me and the book, and YOUR kind pledges that got 'Murder' into the shops. So can you now perhaps find five minutes of your life to visit the Guardian's site and vote? Just <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2018/jul/30/not-the-booker-longlist-vote-now-to-decide-the-2018-shortlist">click here</a>I

I can't petend that they make it easy for you! You have to create a log in, vote for two books on the longlist and write a short review for one of them. Okay, MINE. 

But surely you'd like to see a book that YOU made happen, that has YOUR name in the back, make the shortlist? Maybe even win? And, as someone who's supported a crowdfunding model, you have more patience than readers of some of the other books on the list. You're a patron. You're a philanthropist. You're dead bloody gorgeous.

So, please consider voting for A MURDER TO DIE FOR. Five minutes is all it takes. Let's show the world the power of YOU. 


 <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2018/jul/30/not-the-booker-longlist-vote-now-to-decide-the-2018-shortlist">CLICK HERE!</a>


Steve x

Then two come along at once ...

The final edit and proofread is complete.

The cover is looking gorgeous.

Cover quotes have come in from the likes of Matt Lucas, Alex Horne, Iain Pattison (writer of I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue) and more.


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And we're 110% funded.

THE DIABOLICAL CLUB is GO!

So, this is your LAST chance to pledge (if you haven't already) and get your hands on a paperback AND get your name listed in the back as a patron AND get an additional e-book of 11 brand new short stories featuring characters from A Murder To Die For and The Diabolical Club - including three Inspector Quisty mysteries and a Miss Cutter story - AND an extract from the next novel, Cockerings!


 But be quick!


The doors shut on the 12th May!


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After that you'll have to wait unti it's in the shops on July 11th.

Time's Up! (nearly)

There's been some great news for authors and readers this past week. Book sales were up again in 2018 (and physical books were on the rise too). And it was a bumper year for independent bookshops with many new ones opening.

But, for those of us working in the humorous novel world, the news hasn't been quite so good. The Guardian's influential <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/jan/05/2019-in-books-a-literary-calendar">Books to read in 2019</a> list features just one novel described as a comedy. The same list also mentions the various literary prizes up for grabs but, for some reason, fails to mention the Bollinger Everyman Wodehouse Prize; the only national literary award for comic writing. The prize has been awarded since 2000 but last year it wasn't because the judges, apparently, couldn't find a book funny enough to award it to.

And then there's the <a href="https://www.bl.uk/events/the-chortle-comedy-book-festival">Chortle Comedy Book Festival</a> which takes place this coming weekend at the British Library. It looks to be a great day out - if you like comedians talking about their books. Speakers include Robin Ince, Sofie Hagen, Alex Horne and Adam Kay who will talk about their funny, but non-fiction books. The only novellist to appear is Jonathan Coe whose darkly comic books like The Rotters Club and Middle England are flying the flag for humorous fiction.

(Interestingly, you don't find many comedy novels written by comedians. Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie have both written them. So have Ade Edmonson and Dawn French. But they are a rarity. Most comedians' books are reworkings of their live acts or observational non-fic. Odd that. But they do get the book deals, of course, because they're on the telly and have fan bases.)

I've written before about the terrible state of British comic writing. Yes, I know that comedy is tribal, personal and difficult to categorise, much like art;. There's no good comedy or bad comedy; there's just what people like and what they don't. Consequently, it's a difficult sell to a publisher because the potential market is unpredictable. You write a book on the history of hovercraft, or Manchester United, or PIcasso and you know that there's an audience there. But 'comedy' is such a broad category and, within it, are things as diverse as Shakespeare, Monty Python, Mrs Brown's Boys, Sheridan, Roy Chubby Brown, Benny Hill, The Young Ones and Absolutely Fabulous. It would be a rare individual indeed who laughed at every comedy they watched or read.

Which is why, in our current climate of risk-averse publishing, the mainstream isn't publishing comedy novels. We've lost a great many comic writers in the past two decades - people who were guaranteed bestsellers - and they haven't been replaced. I recently made a list of funny, but deceased, British writers whose books are on my shelves and it's depressingly long: Douglas Adams, Kingsley Amis, Beryl Bainbridge, Ronnie Barker, H E Bates, W E Bowman, Eddie Braben, Anthony Buckeridge, Graham Chapman, T E B ‘Tibby’ Clarke, Peter Cook, Alan Coren, Richmal Crompton, Roald Dahl, Les Dawson, Mary Dunn, Marty Feldman, George MacDonald Fraser, Ray Galton and Alan Simpson, Stella Gibbons, George and Weedon Grossmith, Alan Hackney, Jerome K Jerome, Carla Lane, Compton Mackenzie, J P Martin, Spike Milligan, John Mortimer, Neil Munro, David Nobbs, Dennis Norden and Frank Muir, Michael Pertwee, Stephen Potter, Terry Pratchett, Frank Richards, Talbot Rothwell, Willie Rushton, W C Sellar and R J Yeatman, Tom Sharpe, Ned Sherrin, Larry Stevens, Eric Sykes, Leslie Thomas, Barry Took, Keith Waterhouse, Evelyn Waugh, Leonard Wibberley, Geoffrey Willans and Ronald Searle, Kenneth Williams, P G Wodehouse, Victoria Wood ... and there will be many more.

Yes, there are some very funny writers out there working hard to keep the laughs going. There's Simon Brett, the aforementioned Jonathan Coe, John Niven, Helen Fielding and Jonas Jonasson for starters. There's some good science fiction and fantasy comedy still being produced by people like Jasper fforde, and there's gentle comedy to be found as a sub-genre of romantic fiction. But finding a comic novel these days is tough; they're as rare as hen's teeth. Traditional publishing has created a Catch 22 (another great comic novel) for itself:

They don't publish comic novels because there's no market for them. And there's no market for comic novels because no one is publishing them.

Which is why Unbound has the opportunity to break the impasse. In the past few years, it has published some great humorous novels. We've had Laurie Avadis's Ex, Auriel Roe's A Blindefellow's Chronicle and David Quantick's The Mule. We've had Patrick Kincaid's The Continuity Girl, Kevin Parr's The Twitch and Andy Hamilton's The Star Witness. And there's been James Ellis's The Wrong Story and Niall Slater's The Second Death of Daedalus Mole, Brandon Robshaw's The Infinite Powers of Adam Gowers, and Katy Brand's Brenda Monk is Funny. And there are more, all worth a read.

(And, of course, there's my own modest efforts in the form of A Murder To Die For and the forthcomng The Diabolical Club.)

Unbound really is leading the comedy charge. And why? Because it's not faceless accountants that are deciding which books get published. It's readers; readers who want a break from the tsunami of grip lit and misery porn novels that dominate the market. Readers who want a laugh on their commute to work and last thing before bedtime. Readers who are saying 'we want some humour in our novels'. And goodness knows, with everything that's going on around us socially and politically, I couldn't agree more.

We could all do with a good laugh.

 

P.S. <a href="https://unbound.com/books/the-diabolical-club/">The Diabolical Club</a> has just gone through its structural edit. Next stop - the copy edit. We're nicely on track for a July release. Though, as subscribers, you should get yours a bit earlier.

Unbound - Leading the Comedy Charge

All of you lovely subscribers may not realise it but you joined an exclusibve club last Sunday. The subscriber list was closed on the 12th so, if you subscribed before then, you can be smug in the knowedge that your name will be listed in THE DIABOLICAL CLUB as a patron. And membership to that particular club is now closed!

The book is now heading for the printers. Here's the final cover.


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Some lovely quotes there from Alex Horne and Matt Lucas. There are more quotes on the back too:

‘With this second novel Stevyn Colgan has confirmed his reputation as a talented comedy writer. No mean achievement for someone who struggles to spell his own name.’ - Iain Pattinson, writer I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue

‘This literal shaggy dog story is an engaging whodunnit with a lot of people doing it. It's an hilariously accurate take on modern English village life.’ - Iszi Lawrence, host of Making History

‘I hope fictional people never stop getting murdered inside Stevyn Colgan’s head. I never want this brilliant, hilarious series to ever end.’ - Dan Schreiber, host of No Such Thing As A Fish

Not bad eh?

Roll on July 11th!

Welcome to the Club!

Hello m’lovely subscribers

I bring you news – some good, some maybe not so good. But there’s a happy ending. So bear with me.

Firstly, the good news. THE DIABOLICAL CLUB is being published! Yay! Whoop! Sound the carnyx and raise the alarums! You’ll see the funding total suddenly whoosh all the way up to 100% next week.

It means that you’ll get your book in about seven months’ time (that’s the typical turn-around for any book, no matter who it’s published by) so you’ll probably have it in time for the Summer holidays.

However ...

In order to make this happen, I’ve had to make some concessions and these do affect you.

The fact is that, for whatever reason, pledging on the book has ground to a standstill. It hit 50% funded in April but has barely moved since.

I’m not really sure why this is; sales of my previous novel - A MURDER TO DIE FOR - have been reasonable, it was turned into an audiobook (read by Rula Lenska) and a large print edition, it’s had overwhelmingly good reviews and it’s been put up for two awards. But, despite this, many people haven’t plumped for the sequel. And no matter how many emails, texts, and social media messages I’ve sent, THE DIABOLICAL CLUB is still barely over halfway to being funded.

Times are hard and money is tight. I know that. There’s a lot of uncertainty in the air. And I’ve already asked so much of people, having published four previous books with Unbound. Maybe I’ve hit a kind of crowdfunding saturation point? Who knows?

But, whatever the reasons, the fact remains that pledging has stopped. So, in order to get the book into print for those of you who have pledged, I’ve taken the decision to drastically reduce the amount of money I need to raise. 

That will mean a smaller initial print run (although reprints will be possible). Secondly, I won’t have a specific budget for PR although I will have a little for marketing. Thirdly, the cover will be designed in-house rather than by a freelance professional. By doing this, it means that there’s enough in the kitty right now to jump to 100% and the editing and production process can begin.

HOWEVER, this does mean that I won’t be able to produce special edition copies of the book, which means stripping away a lot of the fancy stuff I’d have liked to include (like illustrated maps, metal foils on the cover etc.). The copies you'll receive will be the same as the ones in the shops (though you will get them earlier). If you’re not happy with this, then please feel free to withdraw your pledge without repercussion or comment. I will completely understand if you do.

However, if you decide to stick with me you will, of course, get your name listed as one of my patrons in the back of every copy of every edition. And, if you pledged for the paperback, you’ll still get a beautifully-produced book. You've seen how good Unbound books look - they are gorgeous, without exception.

For me, the most important thing is that you get the books you've pledged for as soon as I can get them to you.

And, as a bonus, I have written a number of short stories – all set in my fictional county of South Herewardshire – which I am going to make available as a free e-book for subscribers ONLY; the stories won’t be available in shops. So you’ll get two books for the price of the one pledge.

So there you go. Your book is on its way to publication.

Thank you so much for your continuing support.

Sx

Wheels are finally turning ...

Happy World Book Day! Here's me as Paddington Bear. 

Actually I look more like Jamiroquai's grandad.


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The campaign to fund THE DIABOLICAL CLUB kicked off on the 11th January and hit the 33% mark - a whole third of the way there - about a month later. What a great start! But the pledges have stalled now and it's taken three weeks to crawl up to 35%. Which is a shame as, judging by the feedback I'm getting on the previous book - A MURDER TO DIE FOR - a sequel is much anticipated. Sadly, unless things pick up, the wait will be longer than I'd like.

But, on a happier note, I've just sent the second draft out to my gang of critical readers (having listened to their comments from he first read) and I'm pretty confident that THE DIABOLICAL CLUB is now funnier and more intriguing than the first draft. I will go through a number of drafts before I'm happy. At the end of the day I want to produce the best-written and funniest book that I can.  

Laughter is important.As Charlie Chaplin once said, 'A day without laughter is a day wasted' and when I read in my reviews that A MURDER TO DIE FOR made people chuckle, or even laugh out loud on their commute to work, I am ecstatic. It means that all of the effort I put into these books is rewarded. Job done. 

We just need to get the sequel there now. So tell your friends and cajole your family to pledge. I might sell a kidney. Let's get this book over the line!

World Book Day!

Strange things are going on in Black Dog Wood…
A blindfolded skeleton has been unearthed, there have been sightings of some kind of monster, and rumours abound of naughty goings-on at night. And then the local MP, Sir Giles Luscott-Whorne, is accused of murder.
Giles’s best chance to prove his innocence lies with retired police detective Frank Shunter. Can he discover whodunit? And what connects all of these curious events to a long-lost manuscript by crime author Agnes Crabbe?

‘And lastly, so that we may remind ourselves that the dead reside not in
 the grave but in the hearts and minds of the living, I’d like you all to
 take a few minutes to reflect upon your fondest memories of our dear
 departed Hugh while we play a piece of music that I’m told he was
 particularly fond of.’


 The vicar of St Probyn’s, the Reverend Dudley Tirbett, nodded in the
 direction of the verger who rose unsteadily to his feet, shuffled his way
 to a table and pressed the play button on a portable CD player. As heavy
 urban beats rattled the chandeliers and rapper Earl Grey T explained how
 his homies were ‘strapping up to fight for their flow’ in Downtown LA, the
 vicar turned to his aged colleague and invited an explanation.


 ‘I’m so sorry,’ whispered the verger. ‘I borrowed the player from young
 Harvey at the café. I must have forgotten to change the CD.’


 Sitting among the congregation, newly-widowed Gladys Brockhole maintained a
 dignified, if dismayed, silence while her three middle-aged daughters
 struggled to contain themselves. Emotions ranged from grief to
 embarrassment to the urge to laugh out loud and their eyes streamed and
 their noses ran; a situation made all the worse by the fact that none of
 their husbands had remembered to bring a handkerchief or a box of tissues
 as they’d been instructed to do. Consequently, all they had was a single
 paper napkin that one of them had found in the bottom of her handbag. As it
 passed from sister to sister and back again, it began to take on all of the
 unpleasant physical properties of raw egg white.


 ‘I thought they were going to play ‘Our Last Song Together’,’ growled Len
 Youlden, sitting several pews behind the grieving Brockholes and holding
 his hands over his enormous hairy ears. ‘This isn't Neil Sedaka. It isn’t
 even music.’


 ‘Oh I don’t know. It has a good beat,’ said Gerry Waxleigh, tapping his
 toe.


 ‘I can’t listen to this,’ said Youlden. ‘I’m going down the pub.’


 ‘You can’t. You’re a pallbearer.’


 ‘Oh bloody bugger.’


 Following the service, the family and friends of Hugh Donelan Brockhole
 gathered at the graveside to say their final farewells. Someone had thought
 to bring along a tablet so that his sister and family in Australia could be
 part of his send-off by way of a video-sharing app. However, the wifi
 signal had proven to be almost non-existent so they had been offered a
 commentary by mobile phone instead. Gladys Brockhole still hadn’t quite
 recovered from her late husband’s occasionally X-rated rap tribute and
 didn’t feel up to it, and nor did any of her dishevelled daughters or their
 chastised and apologetic husbands. It was therefore left to Mr Wyngarde,
 the octogenarian verger, to provide a blow-by-blow account of the
 committal.


 As the Reverend Tirbett began his final blessing, the weather seemed to
 sense the mood and heavy grey clouds pregnant with rain gathered over the
 churchyard to mope.


 ‘In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our
 Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our brother Hugh, and we
 commit his body to the ground …’


 ‘They’re lowering him in now,’ shouted the verger into the phone at a
 volume he considered necessary for speaking to people half a world away.


 ‘Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust …’


 ‘Oh dear. I’ve dropped my umbrella. Hang on …’


 ‘The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him
 and be gracious to him …’


 ‘It’s fallen on top of the casket. I’ll just reach over and …’


 ‘The Lord lift up his countenance upon him and … good grief. What are you
 doing down there, Mr Wyngarde?’


 Barry Chetwynd had intended to be at the funeral service. Hugh Brockhole
 hadn’t been a friend as such but he had been a regular customer, with a
 particular penchant for offal, and it had seemed only right to pay his
 respects to say thank you for all the kidneys. However, his plans had been
 disrupted by the fact that his shop in Sacker Street had been vandalised
 overnight. The words, ‘Nando’s is the neo‑opiate of the masses’,
 had been spray-painted across the display window in large purple letters.
 He was frowning at it, his beefy arms folded in annoyance, when Charlie
 Barnfather, dressed in a dark suit and black tie, appeared at his side.


 ‘I say. That’s a nuisance,’ he said.


 ‘What does it even mean?’ said Chetwynd. ‘In my youth, the graffiti at
least made some kind of sense. ‘Clapton is God. Eat the rich. M. Kahn is Bent. That sort of thing.’


 ‘Beats me,’ said Barnfather. He scratched at the large white sideburns that
 didn’t quite cover his pock-marked cheeks.


 ‘Sorry I missed the funeral,’ said Chetwynd. ‘How did it go?’


 ‘The verger fell into the grave during the committal.’


 ‘You’re kidding.’


 ‘He’s so doddery these days. Remember when he fell in the canal when they
 scattered Henry Gawkrodger’s ashes?’


 ‘I do,' said the butcher. 'Poor old sod. They should have used a bigger
 boat. Good turnout this morning?’


 ‘Not bad. Oh, I have some news for you from Sid Munsun. He told me that
 there was another sighting up at Black Dog Wood on Friday night.’


 ‘The Shaggy Beast?’


 ‘Supposedly. He said that young Jessica Tremblett came into the mini-market
 on Saturday morning and told him that she’d seen a big hairy thing in the
 woods.’


 ‘I imagine that young Jessie has seen a great many big hairy things in the
 woods,’ said Chetwynd, scoffing lewdly. ‘She’s a bit of a sport from what I
 hear.’


 ‘I try not to listen to gossip and nor should you.’


 ‘So what else did Sid say?’


 ‘You’d best speak to him if you want more details,’ said Barnfather. ‘Or
 young Jessie. I’m just passing on the news.’


 ‘Thanks Charlie. I’ll do that. There’s definitely something in those
 woods.’


 ‘Psilocybin I expect,’ said Barnfather, tapping his nose. ‘Magic mushrooms.
 The fields are full of them this time of year. And you know what youngsters
 are like. I reckon Jessie and some beau of hers scoffed a handful, went
 into the woods for a bit of how’s-yer-father, probably heard a couple of
 amorous foxes and her imagination did the rest. They make a hell of a noise
 when mating.’


 ‘So does Jessie Tremblett, I bet.’


 Charlie Barnfather waved an admonishing finger and crossed the road to his
 chemist’s shop. Barry Chetwynd looked once again at his defaced window and
 shook his head.


 ‘Little bastards,’ he growled.


 ‘Best funeral I’ve been to in a while,’ said Gerry Waxleigh. ‘It’s gone
 straight in at Number Three in my Top Ten.’


 ‘Remember when Old Wyngarde fell out of that boat?’ chuckled Len Youlden.


 ‘I do indeed,’ said Waxleigh smiling. ‘That’s Number Two. Our verger is
 certainly going for gold.’


 The two old friends were enjoying a post-funeral drink in the saloon bar of
 the curiously-named Happy Onion, Nasely’s only pub. Both men were in their
 late sixties; Waxleigh was tall and gaunt, the result of a lifetime of hard
 work on the farm. A floss of frizzy grey hair covered him everywhere except
 for the crown of his head. Youlden was shorter and paunchier and sported a
 cruel scar that ploughed a furrow across his lower lip and badly-shaven
 chin. He whistled as he spoke due to a missing incisor and was already
 three sheets to the wind, having a very low tolerance for liquor.


 ‘You have a Top Ten of funerals?’ asked the landlord. ‘That’s not right.’


 ‘Why not?’ said Waxleigh. ‘Most send-offs are completely unmemorable. A
 good one is worth celebrating, surely?’


 ‘So what’s Number One then?’


 ‘Has to be the Cheesemans,’ said Waxleigh. ‘That was a corker.’


 ‘Was that the one where the marquee came down in high winds and everyone
 got trapped inside?’


 ‘That’s the one.’


 ‘Three people were hospitalised, Gerry.’


 ‘Ah, memories,’ said Waxleigh, with a nostalgic smile.


 ‘Here, Vic,’ slurred Youlden. ‘Did you see? Some bloody bugger has painted
 a cock and balls on the side wall of Gladys Brockhole’s cottage.’


 ‘I know,’ said the landlord. ‘It popped up overnight.’


 ‘Ah, those were the days,’ said Waxleigh. ‘Things pop up with depressing
 irregularity now, sadly.’


 ‘A foot long it is, I reckon,’ said Youlden. ‘It’s a disgrace.’


 ‘Poor old Gladys,’ said Vic. ‘Must have been a shock.’


 ‘I’ll say. Hugh used to tell her he was hung like a stallion,’ said
 Waxleigh. ‘She probably doesn’t know that they come bigger than a Chantenay
 carrot.’


 Len Youlden choked on his beer.


 ‘Have some respect, Gerry,’ said Vic. ‘You just buried the man.’


 ‘Ah, he’d have laughed along with us,’ said Waxleigh. ‘He had a rare sense
 of humour, did Hugh. Knew every dirty joke in the book, and a few more
 besides. If he’d been at his own funeral he’d have pissed himself. I know I
 did. And so did old Miss Shelmerdine. Again. She needs to see Dr Meissen
 about that. Anyhow, here’s to Hugh.’


 ‘To Hugh,’ said Youlden.


 The two men clinked their glasses together and looked expectantly at Vic,
 who lifted the empty glass he was wiping dry in symbolic solidarity.


 ‘To Hugh,’ he said as the two old friends downed the last of their pints.
 ‘Two more?’


 ‘Go on then’, said Waxleigh.


 ‘It wasn’t just Gladys Brockhole’s side wall that got vandalised,’ said Vic
 as he pulled their pints. ‘The little sods did the butcher’s window too.
 Barry reckons it's animal rights protesters.’


 ‘Young Colin Cheeseman and those scruffy herberts who are always waving
 placards outside the abattoir?’


 ‘Could be. Didn’t understand a bloody word of what they wrote, mind.
 Something about opium I think.’


 ‘Bloody yobbos,’ growled Youlden. ‘How do they expect to have bacon
 sandwiches without killing pigs?’


 ‘I don’t think they’re the kind of people who eat bacon sandwiches, Len,’
 said Waxleigh. ‘That’s the point they’re making; that none of us should be
 eating meat.’


 ‘They’ll have to pry my Sunday morning fry-up from my cold dead hands.’


 ‘With the amount of cholesterol you eat it’ll be sooner rather than later,’
 said Waxleigh.


 ‘The thing is, I can understand protests at the abattoir. And at a
 butcher’s shop,’ said Vic. ‘But what have they got against Gladys
 Brockhole?’


 ‘Indeed. The last thing a newly widowed woman wants is a big cock on her
 side wall,’ said Waxleigh. ‘Ah, good morning Frank.’


 Frank Shunter wiped his shoes on the doormat.


 ‘Good morning gents.’


 ‘Oh, hello stranger,’ said Vic.


 ‘Stranger? It’s only been a week.’


 ‘A week is a long time in this trade,’ said Vic. ‘Pubs are closing at a
 rate of six a day.’


 ‘Then I’ll do my bit to help. Pint of the IPA please. So, how was the
 funeral?’


 ‘Hilarious,’ said Waxleigh. ‘You’d have enjoyed it.’


 ‘I doubt that,’ said Shunter.


 ‘We were just talking about this sudden epidemic of graffiti in the
 village,’ said Vic, handing over Shunter’s pint.


 ‘Does writing pretentious twaddle on the butcher’s shop window constitute
 an epidemic?’


 ‘Have you not seen Gladys Brockhole’s cock and balls?’ asked Waxleigh.


 ‘No. But it sounds like I might need a drink before I do,’ said Shunter. He
 sipped at his ale. The froth caught in his neatly-clipped grey moustache
 and he sucked it away noisily.


 ‘Animal rights protesters we reckon,’ said Vic.


 ‘Bloody buggers,’ said Youlden.


 ‘It’s unlike them to be so brazen,’ said Shunter. ‘Perhaps they’re building
 up to something. Protesting at the public meeting tomorrow, perhaps?’


 ‘Waste of their time that’ll be. The pond is going to be drained. It’s a
 done deal,’ said Waxleigh, popping his tweed cap on his head. ‘Fancy a
 gasper, Len?’


 ‘Aye.’


 The two men made their way outside to the beer garden and smoking area.

The Diabolical Club

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