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My friend Nigel just sent me this article about “digital metamaterials” hastening the development of devices such as invisibility cloaks.

Teresa Vasquez, special forces soldier and the heroine of my novel The Spartan, wears such a device (OK, so it’s an invisibility suit, but close enough). More proof that yesterday’s previously unimaginable technology can become today’s accepted marvel.

And if an invisibility suit sounds too “magical” to exist, just remember what Arthur C. Clarke said: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

My ebook military thriller, The Spartan, complete with invisibility suits, is out now on Amazon.

There was a golden time in journalism when the art of the pun reigned supreme … when journalists competed with each other to create magic such as “why I stuck a cracker up my clacker”, when food editors printed “let’s be friands” in 16 point type, when Mrs Slocombe’s naughty pussycat was in literary vogue and “show me the Monet” in an arts supplement was considered high wit worthy of the royal salon of the Sun King.
For generations of journalists raised before the eventual domination of the internet, the headline itself was a chance not only to capture the readers’ attention, but a chance for subeditors toiling in the background to excel. For it was often the subeditor – not the editor or the writer – who was responsible for such words of wit. It was their chance to shine, another tool in their tool belt apart from knowing the correct way of using the Oxford comma and how to police layouts for “orphans”, “widows” and “DOCS children” (OK, I made up one of those).
The racy English tabloids were often the leaders and inspirations for the punning competition. While it is technically not a pun, “Freddie Starr ate my hamster” is perhaps the gold standard of a clever headline … funny, intriguing, bound to attract the reader’s attention. It is perhaps the one headline all newsfolk know.
In Australia, the NT News has become famous (infamous?) for its extremely clever and punnish headlines. In the Walkley Awards, under the category of three best headlines, Paul Dyer of the NT News submitted three crackers: “Eyeful tower”, “Dogs of phwoaarr!” and the world-famous “Why I stuck a cracker up my clacker”, justly walking away with the top prize.
The NT News pushes the envelope in ways that some institutions fear to tread. I would have to go back to my days on ACP’s P-mags to get away with headlines such as “why I stuck a cracker up my clacker”. (Mind you, “phwoar” was an oft-used word on the P-mags. “Phwoar – what is it good for?”, “Man O Phwoar”, “Phwoar King and Country” … the list is endless.)
Mind you, not all puns are great. The current vogue of puns on Game of Thrones (Game of Phones just being one of the most obvious) is tiresome. Some publications have more bad puns than a Kathy Lette novel. And every hack at some point has probably tried (and failed) to get an original pun out of the phrases “the spy who loved me”, “the spy who came in from the cold” and “sofa so good”.
Yet while journalists on the more highbrow mags dream of writing clever headlines like “how do you solve a problem like Korea” or “headless body in  topless bar”, the arrival of the internet and search engine optimisation has put a crimp on the whole pun craze. Funny but non-specific words such as “cracker” or “clacker” would not automatically take the online reader to the NT News story (unless, in this case, it is already world famous), whereas something more boring and specific such as “Darwin man ends in hospital with a firework up his buttocks” might. And type in “eyeful tower” into Google and the first reference you get is for a pun-happy optician in the UK.
Thus, treats for the subeditor to write – such as “Thai me kangaroo down, sport”, “Thai fighter” or “Thai me up, Thai me down” – will not draw as many hits as “local Thai restaurant wins food award”. Amusing japes on ’80s songs such as “Wake me up before you go go” will lead online readers to Wham fanpages rather than your lifestyle article about sleep cycles.
The time of headlines proclaiming “bigger than Ben-Hur” are almost a thing of the past .. “local sports arena ranked among nation’s biggest” have sadly taken their place. “Let’s get physical” has been replaced by “neighbourhood gym attracts customers with spin class”. The whole subgenre of puns of Thai restaurant names is in peril. You will never pick up a daily broadsheet and see the headline “for he’s a jolly good phallus” or “wangs for the memories” any more.
Yes, the puns will continue to sneak in due to the efforts of proud subs, but facts and functionality rather than fun has become the order of the day.
And somehow, the language of headlines is all the more poorer for it.
Although we can all live without puns about Mrs Slocombe’s cat.  

My ebook military thriller, The Spartan, is now available on Amazon.

A DARTH Vader Star Wars toaster. What’s not to like?

I want one, please.

My military thriller, The Spartan, has no mentions of Darth Vader toasters, but perhaps the sequel I’m working on will. In the meantime, the non-toaster version can be purchased on Amazon.

 

Robert, Woody, Kathy, Barack Obama and me … my top 10 celebrity interviews

HERE’S a little compilation of some of the best celebrity interviews I’ve done over the years. For me, they’re all outstanding in some way, whether it was the connection I forged with the subject, what we were talking about or that fact I just really dig their work.
Take a look …

Robert Downey jnr
Robert just absolutely oozed charisma in real life. Witty, charming and erudite, he was in Sydney to promote the first Iron Man, which no one knew at the time would be a hit. Of course it was … and a franchise was born http://www.smh.com.au/news/entertainment/iron-will/2008/04/23/1208743020730.html

Woody Allen
The man behind everything from Hannah and Her Sisters to Vicky Cristina Barcelona has only even done a few hundred interviews in his lifetime, so this was a rare and special interview. Making him chuckle was a career highlight http://www.smh.com.au/news/entertainment/film/woody-allen-is-not-amused/2009/10/13/1255195780060.html

Bill Bailey
Only this UK animal lover and star of cult comedy Black Books would build a bridge for otters to safely cross the highway. Cerebral humour doesn’t come much better than this. Anyone who hasn’t seen Black Books, go watch it immediately http://www.smh.com.au/news/arts-reviews/bill-bailey-tinselworm/2008/08/14/1218307100187.html?page=fullpage

Kathy Griffin
A misunderstanding over whether the American comedian and star of My Life On The D-List had appeared in an episode of Just Shoot Me turned into one of my most personally amusing and entertaining interviews ever. Her live show in Sydney killed too http://www.smh.com.au/news/arts-reviews/kathy-griffin/2008/02/21/1203467263061.html

David Duchovny
As I’m a huge fan of The X-Files and now his most recent show Californication, this was another treat. We were getting on great until I had to keep banging on about the X-Files and whether aliens exist and whatnot, which probably made him think he was dealing with a conspiracy nut. Still … a cool guy http://www.smh.com.au/news/arts-reviews/kathy-griffin/2008/02/21/1203467263061.html

Noel Fielding
By now you can probably tell I’m a bit of a fan of interviewing comedians. I’ve always been a big fan of The Mighty Boosh, so talking to Boosh star Noel was a real pleasure. Great adlibber, too. Boosh insiders joke: apparently Noel likes jazz, which might surprise Julian “Howard Moon” Barratt http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/comedy/confessions-of-a-jazz-convert-20121004-2709a.html

Neil Gaiman
Adults like to call comics “graphic novels” so they can still read them and not be accused of reading comics. Anyway, Gaiman did more than just about anyone else in bringing “graphic novels” into the mainstream with his superb Sandman series. A clever fellow http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/books/comics-genius-20100803-114ez.html

Kamahl
This singer and TV personality is best known to Australian fans. I’ve always remembered my early interview with Kamahl because I found him so charming, good natured and funny http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/01/15/1073877961146.html?from=storyrhs

Barack Obama
OK, so you can’t just ring up the White House and interview US President Barack Obama. Or call the Vatican and ask the Pope for an interview. The Queen doesn’t do interviews either. As for trying to track down Madonna? Forget about it http://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/celebrity/hello-mr-president-20090403-9qqt.html

My ebook military thriller, The Spartan, is out now on Amazon.

Sometimes people ask me, where do you get your ideas from? And sometimes I reply, ideas can come from anywhere and everywhere. Inspiration is all around: in the news, online, on TV, on the streets.
For example, today I noticed a banner strewn across Mosman’s Military road that read: “There’s no such thing as the dog poo fairy”.
But what if there was a Mosman dog poo fairy?
Her tale might go something like this …

“I shouldn’t exist,” thought the Mosman dog poo fairy as she flitted above the streets of Mosman on her magical wings. “I shouldn’t be.”
The Mosman dog poo fairy was often struck by such existential thoughts as she carried out her job, magic wand in one hand, plastic bag in the other, collecting the excreta of the pampered pooches and poodles of that elite suburb. Like most living creatures she was grateful to exist: and yet, she couldn’t help but yearn for a different life, one where she literally wasn’t wing-deep in “poodle dust” each day.
She watched as a leotard-wearing woman in her late forties let her Siberian husky befoul the local park. The fairy hovered out of sight as the dog did its business. Then, when the dog abandoned the scene of the crime with a contended shake of its hindlegs, the fairy flew down to perform her magical duty.
“Why couldn’t I be the bloody tooth fairy instead?” she thought as she shovelled the turd into the bag with the use of her wand. “All he has to do is collect teeth. No shit at all. AND he gets paid!”
The fairy deposited the dog’s waste into a nearby bin, then flew up into the sky and waited for the next dog in Mosman to do its business.
One of the worst parts of the job – apart from literally cleaning up turds – was that it had turned her into a dog hater. As a basic cherub, yet to mature into a fairy, the Mosman poo fairy had loved dogs. Alsatians, poodles, pit bulls, sausage dogs, Dobermans … she loved them all.
Then she gets the letter from Fairy Central about her new job and … wham! Within a few months she could no longer picture a dog – any dog – without imagining what came out of its backside.
Sometimes she marvelled at just how much came out of the tiniest of dogs. Some were literally turd factories, their waste gathering unattended on the corners of Mosman in coiled mounds.
Talk about being given the shih tzus.
Then there were the owners. She hated them most of all. She hated their laziness, their selfishness, their refusal to do the right thing and clean up after their dogs. It was hard to say who the worst offenders were, men or women, young or old. Sometimes the fairy was surprised – the most innocent-looking person, the sweetest old lady, could be the worst culprit, gleefully encouraging their pet to purge itself and congratulating it on its efforts before moving away, no attempt at poo removal made in blatant violation of the Companion Animals Act of 1998.
Some owners at least had the decency to pretend they were doing the right thing, clutching a plastic bag in their hands, them “forgetting” to clean up afterwards.
“Oh … I didn’t clean up after my Belgian barge dog? I’ll do it right now! Soooreeee!”
Others were more brazen, letting their dogs crap out in the open without even the pretence of a bag.
These people usually owned German shepherds.
She sighed. Being the Mosman dog poo fairy was a thankless task. One that no one – not even a fairy – should be called to perform.
The Mosman dog poo fairy was called back to attention when she spotted one of her usual suspects.
There she was again: the well-heeled woman of a certain age, walking her toy poodle. There to let her beast “do its business”. And madam without a plastic bag to pick up the mess. (Or was it madame? The Mosman poo fairy was never sure if it was Madam Butterfly or Madame Butterfly … or even Madama Butterfly?)
Anyway, Madama Butterfly and her dog had been befouling Mosman for years now and no one had ever called her up on it.
Usually the fairy believed in a strict policy of non-intervention in human affairs. Yet the fairy also liked to believe that there were unwritten rules in society … one of them being that you had to clean up after your pet. If everyone did what Madama Butterfly did, we’d have anarchy. The streets of Mosman would resemble Paris, the boulevards festooned with dog merde. Someone had to make a stand. Check that: some fairy.
The Mosman dog poo fairy flew into action just as the poodle stopped shaking its leg, a satisfied post-crap look on its tiny face.
“Hi there,” began the enchanted fairy. “I noticed that your dog just crapped on that front lawn. I was wondering if you were going to pick it up.”
The owner looked the other way.
“I mean,” continued the fairy, performing a figure-eight in the air, ”you’ve been letting your dog soil the grass for years without picking up his business. I was hoping that one day you’d do the neighbourly thing and bring along one of those black plastic bags and collect the crap. You know, like everyone else does. Or at least most people do. OK, some do.”
The owner refused to acknowledge the fairy’s presence as she fluttered near her heard.
“I’ve been watching you,” said the fairy in her tiny, tinkly voice. “Not in a creepy Sting ‘I’ll be watching you’ way, but in a neighbourhood watch way. And I have to say, it hasn’t been a pretty sight, what with all the lawn defilements. But your poodle has an excuse. I can’t expect little Cujo there to pick up his own mess. That’s your job. So … ummm … next time you come by here, please make sure you’re ready to clean up after Mr Tiddles there.”
The woman started walking away without so much as a by-your-leave. “I hate bringing this up as much as you do having to hear it,” shouted the fairy after her. “I didn’t wake up this morning and decide to play the role of dog faeces enforcer! I didn’t choose this life! It was thrust upon me! I had no choice! But you do! You do!”
But of course, the woman hadn’t heard the fairy. Or seen her.
The humans never did. Because she was a fairy. An invisible fairy.
The Mosman dog poo fairy.
“God I hate my job,” she sighed. But no one was listening.

My new ebook military thriller, The Spartan, is now available on Amazon.

This is The Spartan!

Hi there,

Charles Purcell here, journalist and author of the recently released military thriller The Spartan, now available on Amazon. How are you today?
As you can see, this is the very first entry of my blog. In it, I hope to share my experiences in writing, particularly with the sequel to The Spartan, tentatively called The Spartan: Blowback. I’m about 55,000 words through it at the moment.
I guess one thing right off of the bat is that it is tricky trying to find the right balance with the characters from the first novel. There are certain characters I personally like that the plot currently doesn’t allow space or a place for. ideally, these heroes and heroines (including a certain Russian) should fit organically into the story without having to be shoehorned in. That’s one thing I’m finding. Which is a shame.
Another thing … where do the characters go from the events of the first book? What is their “narrative arc”, he said pretentiously, ash from a half-burned Galoise burning the cafe table? During a comedy seminar the instructor once said that if you set the character up right the first time and make them believable, then whatever happens next will flow naturally as the characters respond to situations in their own distinct manner.
So I have a pretty good idea what my main character the Spartan will do in any situation. But what about his comrades in arms and lover, Vasquez? How will she react to, say, being attacked by a whole bunch of ninjas? Or how will Homeland Security’s top troubleshooter, Colonel Garin, react when someone suggests he screwed the pooch over the whole canister conspiracy featured so prominently in the first novel? I’m as curious to find out as you are.
Another thing I’m wrestling with at the moment is the old Game of Thrones dilemma: when if ever is the right time to consider bumping off a character. The old Ned Stark conundrum.
I must admit, I never really understood why George R.R. Martin had such a reputation for killing off characters until I just finished the fourth season. Fortunately he has such an awesome pantheon of characters he can spare a few casualties. I don’t think I have such a diverse and numerous rogues’ gallery that I can get away with that just yet. But I am open to bumping some off … we’ll just see how the plot pans out.
A friend told me today that it’s now safe to read the first three books in the Game of Thrones series. That’s a relief – I’ll never forget going into the bookshop and reading that “when xxx killed xxx” on the back cover of one. I’ve had to wait years until it was safe to go back into the bookshop and peruse old RR. (Another problem, of course, is that the internet is just chock-full of GOT spoilers. If only there was an app for that … or at least anti-spoiler software.)
Anyway, there are a few of my initial thoughts. The sequel is a work in progress and I hope to be finished by the end of the year. I’ll be regularly keeping you up to date with my progress. In the meantime, I recommend you grab a copy of The Spartan and get reading!
Until next time,
Charles Purcell