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bailey guinness  body  book  bush  dad  drink  feel  fine  guinness  guys  head  hot  mind body  nest  new  seasoning  stoat  time  tree  work 
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Preview: Chicken and Pies

Chicken and Pies

Updated: 2018-03-05T21:41:58.688-08:00


piece of crap


feed me into a meat grinding machine and turn me into artisan human sausages, seasoned with mace. force me into a cement mixer and add me to the foundation of a large, municipal building. slice me thinly and put me into a museum, the slices spaced apart and coated in glass. fry me in extra virgin olive oil and add bay leaves to me and then roast me in the oven, slowly, so that my fat renders down nicely and i am succulent all the way through. coat me in fabric softener and toss me into the washing machine. discover a vein of gold ore spewing from my bones, remove my flesh and make me a mine. cover me in heavy rocks i will be a statue for you. replace my blood with poly-filler and hang clothes on me and put me in the selfridges window at christmas. put me into a sun and make me be some fuel for a while. add me to an italian salad.

video about novel


hi there here is a video about my book everything's fine

watch it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ;)



hello. the best place for non-uk residents to buy a copy of Everything's Fine is through this website:

thanks very much all of the wonderful people of PLANET EARTH



Hi guys.

Here is an early (now changed) draft of a bit of my new book - entitled Greece. I have only really started recently. But I feel good about it, or something. Also you can get my first one, Everything's fine either from the transmission print website, or amazon, or by going into a bookshop and asking for it. OK. Here is the bit of GREECE:


In an area of countryside in Greece, a young olive tree becomes self-aware. It has two branches. Each branch has two small silver leaves growing from its tip. The tree is beautiful. The wind tenderly moves the branches. As they move, the tree is aware of their tiny weight, and the sensation of its bark slowly shifting, opening pores and involuntarily contracting.

Hot, dry wind. The sky is clear. A small bush near the tree becomes self aware. The bush is sexually attracted the tree. It is standard, shrubby, thorny bush, dry and dusty, not really green, just the colour of the ground. The bush wants to wrap itself around the tree.

I feel sexually inadequate, thinks the bush. The wind blows the bush, and it frumpishly rustles. Could I be any less attractive, thinks the bush.


PS if you want to review everything's fine please send me an email thankyou




everything's fine now available


for preorder on amazon, weirdly

would be great if you bought it, guys:







sitting down to do a little work on the new book, i thought i'd share a little bit of it:

He rounds a corner. Bits of road surface spray away under the force of his wheels. He rounds another corner. He accelerates, wildly thinking about vaginas and wives and the texture of various vaginas of different ages, eyes bulging out of his head and silver hair streaming like a unicorn's mane behind him in the hot Serbian wind and feeling on the rim of something he can't understand, something like madness, or the absence of madness and the absence of everything or some rabbit, wild eyed, scratching for sanity in the dark in a warren being filled with cement.

reveal of the format of everything's fine


hi guys. my novel is coming with a dust-jacket. here's what it will look like, roughly.





Please click to make bigger, if you like.

The artist is hiding here :

a kiss


i try and kiss you so that you can tell me about what it feels like to be kissed. you say, 'it feels fine'. i write it down in a book. i say, 'why did you let me do it?' you say, 'whatever'. i turn and look at the wall for four hours.


a bit later you are asleep. i write about it in my notebook and move your hand around without waking you. when you wake up i ask you what it's like to be asleep. you say, 'i can't remember.'


the next day you come home from work. you are wearing a grey skirt and a grey jacket and a white shirt. i say, 'what is work like?' you say, 'it's the same as not working.'


we look at each other over dinner. you look at me and i look at you. i say, 'what am i like?' you say, 'the same as me.' i say, 'what are you like?' you turn and look at the wall for four hours.



my new work is a very commercial, extremely readable, contemporary potential bestseller. it will totally explain everything about being alive in the modern day.

hope you are looking forward to it ;) ;0 ;)))))))

it has loads of sex and drugs guys and murder and horrifying situations and also sexiness and famous people.

preorder it (not yet available or finished ;)))))) )



content removed due to irritating unstoppable video

happy news


hello friends. i am really pleased to announce that my first novel, everything's fine, will be published this october by transmission print, a very exciting new(ish) uk publisher.

the novel should be available in all major bookshops in england, and on amazon as well. i believe there will be an e-book version also available.

much more information will be available over the next few months, including artwork, websites etc.

i am planning some exciting/hackneyed marketing gimmicks to make the build up to release totally unbearable/amazing

for more immediate information/enquiries please email me (socratesadams at gmail dot com).

thanks for your support everyone.

the book will retail at £100,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000

Piece of work at Metazen


Hi all,

A story of mine is up at metazen:

Hope all y'all like it.

x o x o gossip girl

idea for a graphic novel


I am a supervillain called the stoat. I live in a canal riverbank in a nest that is decorated with empty food seasoning pouches, seasoning bottles, seasoning boxes and seasoning grinders. I have a large collection of glass seasoning bottles - they are my favourites.

I used to be just an average guy, going to work in an office.

Then I became the stoat.

I was hit by a ray of radiation that turned me into the stoat.

My super-power is being called the stoat.

I swim into canal barges and steal seasoning. I go home into my nest and eat the seasoning and then use the packets to decorate my home. My wife doesn't know anything about my new life. Glass seasoning bottles dangle from strings made from my own head hair and they tinkle politely in the breeze. Plastic seasoning pouches are pasted with my saliva to the earth walls of the nest. They keep it water proof.

I curl up every night after my day and sleep in the nest.

It is a bright summer's day. I can hear the succulent lapping of the canal outside my nest. I can hear little birds singing everywhere, talking about their mornings and the gossip from last night out on the piss.

I hear a person walk past, whistling.

A man's head appears, upside down, at the entrance to my nest. The man is holding tightly onto a postman's hat, in order to stop it from falling into the canal. He says,


I say,


He says,

'Got some post for you.'

He pokes his hand into my nest. It's full of letters - junk mail mostly.

I say thanks to him and then look through the morning post. I drink some water that I have dissolved pepper in while I think about the post. A couple of bills, something from reader's digest, letter from the bank.

I am so lonely.

gchat with my mum (using my dad's name)


Ron:do you remember when you were at primary school you were fascinated with jokes coming home everyday with new jokes?
me: really?
Ron: tea time was joke time
me: i don't remember
Ron: oh, yes
me: that's true, is it?
8:32 PM Ron: a lot of them - sure true
me: haha

great writing (should i shut this blog down?)


Here is a series of haiku poems written by Ellen, the daughter of the television presenter. She is sixteen years old and loves writing poetry. It helps her relax. She always leaves the first letters of her sentences in the lower case. She does it because she thinks that it makes all of the words as important as each other, in some way.

feeling young
although I don't know
nothing else

who am I
i have no idea
who I am

what is life
is it anything
or nothing

why do i
do the things i do
i don't know

She buys notebooks in packs of three from a local newsagent and fills them up with poems and short stories. Her dad worries about her from time to time because she is so introverted. Sometimes she writes poems about hating her father because he spends so little time with her. There are paintings from her very early childhood in which her depiction of her father is a scrawled black angry scribble, compared to a smiling mother, happy house and rolling younger brother. She would always draw herself holding a book.

Ellen is checking her email. As she checks it, one of her friends sends her a message through gmail chat. They have this conversation:

tracy: hi ellen - your dad's on tv. the other two presenters r so fucking hot. can your dad get me to meet them?

ellen: haha that is sick.
he can't get you to meet them.
you are a slut, tracy.

tracy: haha i would like to have sex with the small one
he looks like a rat
like a man-sized rat
that is hot
your dad is hot

ellen: fuck you

tracy: fuck you

hot interview with gavin bower


Gavin James Bower is an average guy with a huge amount to give. He has already had a novel published by Quartet, and loves living the high life. Here is an interview between him and I. I think that we both come across as great guys.1. You are so dreamy. How do you keep your complexion as peachy and dreamy and silky as you do?i stay dreamy by writing in lower case. i don't have time for upper case or a complicated moisturising routine. i've got things to do. 2. Explain why it is important to carry on breathing in the context of contemporary culture, and also in the wider context of consciousness.being determines consciousness, but being also determines breathing. consider this. if you think about breathing, a vague sense of suffocation ensues. 'i am therefore i think' should, therefore, really be 'i am therefore i breathe therefore i think (i am suffocating)'. you can have that. 3. You are so brainy. What food do you love to eat to stay so brainy?i'm on the anti-raw vegan diet, and have a particular aversion to inverted commas. they give me the meta-runs. 4. Explain the relationship between the mind and the body in the context of the following questions - What is the mind? What is the body? (Please answer these questions with reference to the idea that there may be no difference between the mind and the body).my answer to question 2 presupposes the supposition that there is no difference between the mind and the body but, as a nobody, i really have no idea. 5. Who are your dream dinner party guests?you, obvs. a guest of your choosing - a stranger, preferably. and my girlfriend, because she's hot. that would be a sexy and awkward dinner party; in short, dreamy. 6. Please explain the irrelvance of 'heavy-weight' British literature due to it's insistence on dealing with unimportant plots and twisting 'interesting' narrative, in contrast to a more primal, 'experiential' level of existence concerned with raw and unprocessed experience and sensory information in the context of human consciousness. i had to vomit because of all the inverted commas. what was the question? ok, my answer is: tom mccarthy's c.7. Are you a dog lover or a cat lover? Why? Which would win in a fight?i'm human-pet-culture-ambivalent. if there is such a thing. which, of course, there isn't. my mum loves cats. so does my girlfriend. i quite like dogs, but i couldn't eat a whole one. am i right? hello? is this thing on...? 8. God?does not follow you on twitter. 9. Which mobile phone operator do you use? What is your ringtone? What is the coolest music and sexiest woman ever?orange. i've been with them since my first contract, about ten years ago, which shows you how old / loyal i am (28 and very). my ringtone is the iphone standard one. it's called 'old phone' but i have the new phone. the iphone 4. did i say i have an iphone? i do. 10. ._____________. ? a neutral facial expression. if there is such a thing. which, of course, there isn' can find more about gavin here:[...]

has this ever happened to you?


I look at my friend. His head is a toaster. Toast flops out of his mouth. His head is a fan. He blows air at me. His head is chair. He sits on top of his own head. His head is a printer. Paper curls out of him. His head is someone else's head. He looks at himself. His head is a whale. His head is a fly. His head is a roast chicken, rotating on a spit, dripping animal fat over his suit. His head is his body, sitting upside down on its own neck.

advert for lovely and fresh marmite



marmite company, you owe me some money. please send it to me. i kept my end of the bargain.

advert for 'rancid vinegar flavoured yellow paste' French's Mustard



i am waiting for my cheque, French's

advert for 'delicious' evian mineral water



could someone who works at evian send me some money, please?

if you have a product you would like me to advertise, please let me know.

i am afraid of dying


just hit 30,000 words. here is a sneak peak, to get everyone interested. if anyone wants to give me some money for it, now would be a great time!------------------------------------ John is talking about drinking in a pub. 'Drinking is OK, but I will never do it again because I am so drunk that it feels uncomfortable.' Processing these words, bored. There is a pint of Guinness on the table. There is a glass of Bailey's next to the Guinness. The Bailey's is there as a joke. 'Drinking is making me feel so drunk.' Smelling fried food. The smell of fried food. The smell of Guinness. The taste of Guinness. Swallowing Guinness. Can't be bothered. Bothereding. Bothering. Not bothering. Not being bothereding. Impossible to be bothereding. It is not possible to be being botheredering. Speech: Can't be bothered. John has finished his drink and is looking like he wants to drink some more. 'I feel so drunk that if I drink anything else I will be so drunk that I may get sick. I am going to buy another drink. Do you want another drink? Nodding head. Finishing Guinness. Looking at the women in this bar. None of the women are a woman that used to live with someone who didn't call the landlord when he was meant to. There are women here with the same parts as that particular woman. They wear the same clothes. They seem to not speak an identifiable language. They feel perfumed. Feelings of physical lust intensified by alcohol. Women torment man by their existence and his inability to understand or speak to them. Legs not trembling. There is a hand resting on the table and lightly stuck to it. The table surface is covered in a thin layer of ash, from many years ago, when smoking was allowed in here. The ash is covered with fluids. There is no Bailey's or Guinness left in the glasses on the table. More Bailey's and Guinness arrives as John sits down. 'This drink is going to push me over the edge. I am thinking about propositioning a woman this evening. I find it easier to that when I have had a drink.' Boredom. Thinking about scrapheap challenge. Thinking about the female presenter of scrapheap challenge. Speech: I miss my ex-girlfriend. 'Time heals everything,' Says John. 'Time heals all wounds.' Speech: Time doesn't heal cancer.[...]