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Archive for August, 2013


Dollywagglers 2014!

Tenebris Books are taking a leap into the unknown and publishing my dystopian novel called DOLLYWAGGLERS.

I love the pioneering aspect of this project – it will be the first book of this brand new imprint. To be chosen to launch it is an honour.

Feel free to ask me what dollywagglers are.

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I’ve been digging into my memory lately to think of ‘dips’ – ways we used to choose someone to be ‘it’ in chasing games. London school playgrounds were unselfconsciously rich in culture – I used to know about twenty different dips. And if I was being chased and I needed some time out of the game, the cry of ‘Fainlights’ with simultaneous holding up both hands with crossed first and second fingers was universally respected.

Here are the words of a song from Scottish children, immortalised on film in the Scottish Screen Archive’s site.

Well I sent her for eggs, oh then, oh then
I sent her for eggs, oh then
Yes I sent her for eggs, and she fell and broke her legs
Oh the world must be coming tae an end, ach aye

Well I sent her for butter, oh then, oh then
I sent her for butter, oh then
Yes I sent her for butter, and she fell down in the gutter
Oh the world must be coming tae an end, ach aye

Well I sent her for bread, oh then, oh then
I sent her for bread, oh then
Yes I sent her for bread, and she dropit down dead
Oh the world must be coming tae an end, ach aye.

You can watch the film if you go to their website. http://ssa.nls.uk/film.cfm?fid=0799

But coming forward to the present, Bess, aged six, says the recognised shout for time out of a game of tag is ‘pause game’….

How about you? Did you play games with dips and fains? How about your kids now?

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That’s it. Football, played with two balls.

From the same team that brought you the MOOBRA¬† [see earlier posts] – ¬†this kind of evolutionary development could well spice up what might, for some, be considered a somewhat tired old spectator sport. One ball football – what’s missing?

If football was played with two balls in play simultaneously, wouldn’t that strike happy biological chords of atavistic recognition somewhere vital?

Imagine the new skills footballers would have to develop, the exciting new strategies, and the biological sense of it all… Choosing players who can handle two balls at once, etc etc.

Once again, I seek no patent for this. Take the idea and run with it – to the nearest Freudian goalpost, – and may good fortune go with you.

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