I wrote a lot of books when I was young. Or at the very least, started a lot of them.
Most, like this, would barely get beyond Chapter One. Occasionally I would finish
one (I still have an entire 'serious' sci-fi novella I wrote when I was ten, which
isn't even remotely funny, doesn't belong in this section and therefore you'll have
to wait a long time before I let you read it) and I completed a fair few Doctor Who-related
stories too (all of which are way too dull to read). Plus there's a complete Issue
1 of Socko! comic and another comic I made called Horror '82 which are really quite
hilarious. But of course they're not meant to be.
Around 1984 (or maybe 1985), I also managed to finish two tiny comic novels - one
called 'The Disgusting Piece of Stinking Fungus (and what it did)' and another direct
sequel to it, the name of which escapes me. Both of them given away to girls I fancied
(which didn't help at all) and thus lost forever. But they were probably very much
in the same style as this, which may even have been a forerunner of them (see the
end of the chapter for more confirmation) - a free-roaming stream of consciousness
which takes just as much inspiration from my own previous work as it does from Douglas
Adams, Spike Milligan and the Fighting Fantasy Gamebooks I used to love at the time.
This isn't a great story but it's interesting enough. Bit sad about the female toilet
queue joke, but I was twelve. Or maybe thirteen. Just trying to be clever and failing
miserably. The handwriting's a bit larger and more open and I appear to be more comfortable
with slipping in the odd sex-related joke (even if they stick out like a sore finger)
and using naughty words like 'bastard' without relying on my newly-discovered teenage
sexuality to dominate the entire plot. So I reckon I was a bit older than the boy
who wrote Shane Wepherd's Affair and calmer than the maniac who did A Mad Half Hour
in the Attic, but only just.