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The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 6

One of those weeks where celebrity deaths come in threes. Questions are beginning to be raised as to the suspicious ends of Gene Hackman, his wife and dog, while Roberta Flack’s onward transition was met with universal sadness and the inevitable BBC4 documentary. Meanwhile the Oscars staff are no doubt scrambling to update their In Memorium section before tomorrow.

For me, though, the passing of Henry Kelly hit hardest. I was interviewed by him for BBC Berkshire back when I was collaborating on zombie anthologies—the newsworthy connection came from my pal Rob generating a preparedness plan should Z-Day hit Reading. Henry was slightly baffled by the whole thing but charming and funny throughout. As a fan of Going For Gold when I was a student, it was a wildly weird but entirely cool moment for me to chat to him about prepping The Oracle against an incursion from the living dead.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 5

I keep coming back to this Bon Appetit clip featuring the boss of Una Pizza in New York, Anthony Mangieri. His process, his insistence on ferocious control of ingredients and technique when it comes to a meal of very humble origins fascinate me. Seriously, dude, get another dough chef on the line.

Pizza is turning into a bit of an obsession, with it landing for dinner in our house more and more regularly. Specifically, a seafood pizza, which seems to be tricky to get if you go out. Tuna, prawns and mussels is a favourite. It’s all about the dough, though, and I’ve been playing around. Nothing like Anthony’s careful tweaks with different flours and hydration ratios. I use the pizza setting on my 30-year old Panasonic bread maker to make a simple dough with type-00 flour, and let it sit in the fridge overnight. That slow ferment means it comes out lively, bubbly and flavoursome, ready to blast in a hot oven under cheese and a homemade tomato sauce (more below). It’s a good way to decompress and eat something good on a Friday night.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

Featured image by Dominic Wade.

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 4

The first great retail opportunity since X-Day has landed, and on a Friday too, so let’s make a weekend of it. I treated us to an excellent meal deal from M&S which included coquille St. Jacques, prawn and salmon on croute with smashed basil potatoes and chocolate and caramel pots alongside a rather nice bottle of Italian rosé for £25 quid. Plenty of folks are hopefully out helping restaurants and card shops stay afloat over the next couple of days. C and I, as you know are quiet and retiring types. Not for us the crush and hustle of V-Day dining. Like the saintly George said, it’s cold out there but it’s warm in bed. Hope you get a chance to put a little love in your life, even if it’s just honouring yourself with a little treat.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 3

We got through it, Readership. The first 57 days of January 2025 are finally over and we can get ourselves in shape for the challenges of the next four years. Were you dry? Did you vegan? Is there an untouched gym membership somewhere in your everyday carry, which will glare accusingly at you until you finally give up on it sometime in June? I did none of those things—in fact you could describe my January activity as barely there. However, I have been busy in my head, thinking, mapping, planning. The dark days of January are perfect for preparatory actions, readying for the swing of the season, waiting for the times when I will be woken by the sunrise rather than the buzz of an alarm. Tananarive Due has some advice for these pre-spring days, which resonated with me for all sorts of reasons.

There Is Work To Do

Featured image from Jeremy Deller. More here.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

An Excuse and a bit of drama

This week has rinsed me out more than I thought. The Day Job has challenged my patience to extremes. House Beast Millie developed a case of conjunctivitis, which had us running around to vets and organising weekend cover to get someone in to give her eyedrops. Have you ever given a cat eyedrops? It’s dramatic and potentially scarring.

Meanwhile, a side effect of trying to stay away from the news this week means I have a paucity of links for to Swipe at you. Therefore, I offer apologies and a little something from the archives.

2025 marks the tenth birthday of an audio drama that pal Clive and I put out when we were podcasting regularly (links to both the Speakeasy and the A-Z OF SFF are in the sidebar if you want to explore a bit), an attempt to expand the remit and try something different.

For reasons lost in the mists of time we decided to make an episode of a fictional 1930s horse opera—a cowboy comic in audible form featuring a whip-bearing protector of the plains and his Native American sidekick. We corralled a few friends and performed a script what I had wrote, then wrangled it into crude shape in GarageBand.

It’s not the most polished bit of radio you’ll ever hear. Performances veer from barely there to scenery-chewing, the mix is a bit weird and let’s be honest, our enthusiasm for recreating the spirit of the times makes it a bit tin-eared towards the sensitivities of the present day. Approach with caution if you’re easily offended.

However. It was a thing that we spent time, love and energy on and I’m still pretty fond of Whip Crackaway, janky edits, wobbly sound levels and all. It was fun to make and features a wonderful moment where due to casting constraints forcing us to double up on some roles, Clive was forced to flirt with himself.

So settle in, pour a glass of something warming, light up a Caversham and let the Speakeasy Players perform for you.

The Adventures Of Whip Crackaway And Honcho The Indian Boy

See you next Saturday, cowpokes.

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 2

I shouldn’t be focussing on the fall from grace of a certain British fantasy writer given the events looming this coming Monday in Washington, but hey, any distraction from the imminent end of all things is welcome.

The report in this week’s New York magazine on his alleged coercive and abusive behaviour is, of course, pretty bloody horrible—I couldn’t finish the article. The inevitable half-hearted mea culpa and denial has been issued from the Tower Of Dreams, to general eye-rolling and declarations of boycotts.

However things happened, and even if events didn’t roll out as reported (gentle reminder to all that at Excuses And Half Truths we always believe the women), the writer in question has suffered pretty irreparable reputational damage. I’m sure His Nibs will take this whole things as a fine excuse to comfortably retire, crying himself to sleep on a mattress stuffed with cash.

But why should we be bothered? Artists have always been notoriously revolting. I don’t recall seeing the cancel notice on Lord Byron getting much traction, despite the crap he put his lovers through. Ted Hughes was a fucking monster. Francis Bacon? Don’t get me started. I believe in separating the art from the artist, but then I don’t have Sandman-themed sleeve tattoos that probably look a bit silly now.

As Annie Craton put it on Bluesky this week—

In further evidence of his utter arseholery, it seems that yer man lifted a lot of the inspiration for his best-known work from fellow British author Tanith Lee, as pointed out on Threads:

Look, it’s your call. Base your response to this whole sordid affair on which elements of reportage you choose to believe. If you feel you can’t read his books anymore, that’s completely fine. I’d offer a caveat—his comics are collaborative works, the product of hard graft from a cohort of incredibly talented people. And that universe continues, guided by other equally gifted writers who don’t deserve to be caught in the blowback.

In conclusion—read more Tanith Lee.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 1

Here we are now. Welcome to Volume 3 of The Swipe, which to celebrate the new year features absolutely no changes to format, style or content. However, this first chapter is a bumper offering, as we always believe in value for money. Even more so as the sticker price on your Saturday Soaraway Swipe is bupkiss, nix, nada and niente. You lucky punters.

Before we get into it, I wanted to share Jason Chatfield’s take on the way cartoons serve as an early warning alert for incoming censorious regimes. Start with the funnies and see if anyone notices.

in an unrelated update, I have cancelled my Washington Post subscription.

Silencing The Court Jesters

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The Swipe Volume 2 Chapter 39

By the time you read this, my work year will be done, and the first of our Christmas Pilgramages will be be underway. Between Essex and Warwickshire, with a pit stop back in the Ding, it’s hardly going to be the most restful of breaks. But a break it shall be, which is the most important thing. A chance to focus on the core life elements—family, friends, food and oh go on then let’s try that Christmas Negroni recipe.

Next week, we are delighted to offer up the 2024 Yearly Annual Report, which as stakeholders in this enterprise I trust you’ll find of interest. I hope you will agree that Excuses And Half Truths continues to offer value, service and an agreeable user experience. As ever, our Complaints Warthog is available to receive any negative comments and deliver a robust and tusk-heavy response.

This week: how to make a living as a creative, how the internet is no longer fit for purpose and the strange tale of the little king.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The Swipe Volume 2 Chapter 38

I have started getting into the habit of waking well before the morning alarm goes off, think ‘oh well, no point in staying put’ and dragging my sorry ass into the shower. When the alarm is set for half five in the morning this can feel like I’m starting my day in the middle of the night.

On Friday I was going through the usual start-up sequence—20 past 5, Storm Darragh thumping at the windows, just about to fall out from under the duvet, when C rolled over, slung her arm around me and pulled me back. It was entirely subconscious. She doesn’t remember doing it. But it gave me the ten minutes I didn’t know were necessary, drifting sweetly in the warm embrace of my very love. When I finally extricated myself, I felt thoroughly rested, utterly content, ready for what would be a challenging morning at the coal face. Those ten minutes of simple contact gave me the strength I needed.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The Swipe Volume 2 Chapter 37

Pity the December baby. Born in the darkest month, doomed to have their birthday forever superseded by all that Christmas nonsense. It’s impossible to book anywhere for a nice meal out, you end up with a shared birthday/X-Day gift, and there’s the general feel that your special day just isn’t that—well, special. My extended clan of friends and family has many Sagittarians in its ranks, including a Christmas Day and a New Year’s Eve child. Honestly, it sucks. This festive season, spare a thought and a little love for the December babies in your life. They didn’t choose to be born this way.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.