Skipjack the Ripper, the Dreaded Water Pistol Assailant (of Old Kingston-Upon-Hull Town)
Nar then youth, owz tha bin?
I mun tell thi a tale tharrappened to me t’other day. Me an me bruvver kem in after ard day darn pit. Black brite we wor, like Papa Lazarou in a coil cellar at midneet.
‘Wierzat packet o choccie biccies, ar kid?’ e sez. ‘Am reight clemmed.’
‘Sin tin,’ ah teld im, pointin at biscuit barrel.
‘Tin’t in tin,’ e sez. So I as a skeg, an e were reight! Sumtwat ad nicked all us scran! Kitchen were like Owd Muvver Ubberd’s. An not just that, neither. Bastards ad ad telly away an all.
‘Sumdy’s buggered off wi’ us snap,’ ar kid sez, master o t’fuckin obvious.
‘Well bugger me wi’ rough end o’a rotatin pineapple,’ sez I, ‘ah do believe tha’s reight. Any other flashes o genius insight thier, Sherlock? Mebbe tha’s got sum news on what bears do in’t woods.’
‘Shut thi gob,’ e sez, ‘this is serious.’
‘Ah know it’s fuckin’ serious,’ ah sez, ‘what’s tha think me dad’s gonna seh when e gets ome an there’s nowt t’ate?’
Then I ad an idea! All we ad to do were wait til arf-past seven. Coz what time is it after arf-seven? It’s summat to ate!
(I’ll get me coit...)
Anyroad, we still ad to find t’bastard what robbed us. So me an ar kid gu art round all local wukkin-mens’, lookin for sum bugger to bash. An we farn im an all, none other than Dodgy Rog from Sheffuld tryin to fence us telly.
‘Woss dar lookin at?’ Rog asks us, talkin in fuckin Dee-Dar.
‘Tha might wanna gi’it us back, pal,’ ar kid sez, shekkin im warmly bi’ throat.
‘Nadden di,’ Rog sez, ‘dis ere telly in’t yooers danoz. I farn it.’
‘Aye twat, tha farn it in ar front room,’ I sez, kickin im reight ard in’t goolies. ‘Look, it’s still got lock on it me dad purron to stop us watchin owt on pay-per-view.’
After a good few solid thwacks rarnd skull wi an empty bottle o Mackesons, owd Rog bekem a bit mooer personable. E giz us telly back an even admitted to ow Shef Wensdi were shite compared to Tarn. Ah mean we farn art later that e’s really a Shef United fan, so that ain’t much orran admission, but still...
Anyroad, ad best be off. Av gorra pint o Sam Smiffs gerrin warm an a pooerk pie gerrin cowd. Stay art o bother, keep to t’left an keep thi motions reglar. Tarra!
Yep, it’s come to that. Taking commissions, taking any and all commissions!
I’ve been writing all sorts of stuff for ages. I’ve had journalism published online and written scripts for comics. If I can't help you with something, if I'm not the best fit for your project or I'm not sure about something, I will tell you up front. No good comes from us messing each other about.
I write primarily in genres such as comedy, science fiction, fantasy and alternate history, but can adapt to whatever you need. My writing is expressive, with a tendency towards minimalism. I try not to use fifty words where five will do. But of course, why take my word for it when you can just read for yourselves?
For samples of work I’ve done in the past, take a look here: Stuff I've Done on DA; Articles on Following The Nerd
Formatting varies between different samples due to different requirements, length of piece etc. If you have any specific formatting requirements, please let me know up front.
£10/1000 words (or £1/100 words). I generally set 500 words as a minimum word count, since putting a cohesive piece together with a lower word count is difficult. That said, I'd be more than happy to discuss any specific needs regarding the length of a piece.
I accept payment through Paypal. I would require a £5 non-refundable deposit up front and payment of the rest upon completion.
Upon completion and payment, commercial rights go to you. I only ask for a credit for my work and permission to use it in my personal portfolio (ie I would not post it on DA or any other site). If for whatever reason the commission isn’t intended for publication anywhere, I might ask you for permission to publish it on my DA profile with a credit to you for the commission, although you would have the final say.
In the event of you being unhappy with the finished product and requesting a refund, commercial rights would revert back to me.
I have no problem with providing revisions to the first draft, but there are of course limits. I can tweak dialogue for example, but a complete re-write with different characters and plot isn’t gonna be covered. Agreement on details up front would (hopefully) mean that this wouldn’t be an issue.
If you are extremely unhappy with what you've received, I can offer a refund of everything but the deposit. As mentioned above, rights to the finished property would then revert to me.
Sure, why not? I’ve done fanfic in the past, it’s not a problem if I’m familiar with the property beforehand. Please contact me to discuss what fandom you want ficcing.
What to Share
Naturally, I need to know a few things up front. Specifically, I need:
- Desired word count.
- Specific plot points, characters, details etc. you want included.
- Timeline for the project. Depending on how quickly you want a story, I might ask for an additional charge for a faster turnaround.
If you have any questions about all this, feel free to drop me a line. I'm more than happy to discuss your needs and whatever you want.
The saga of Big Dave, The Pontefract Llama Dresser is a long, long story. So we won't dwell.
Dave was born at an early age to parents of both sexes, in Pontefract hospital on 31st October 1980 (Hallowe'en. Speaks volumes). The irregular heart rythm in the womb, and subsequent smack on the bonce with a concrete floor aged 6 may have done their part to contribute to his current state of insanity. Going through university in order to drink himself into a coma, Dave actually managed to get a degree in Politics at the end of it. This was a shock, as he'd intended studying Journalism.
SOME SALIENT INFORMATION ABOUT DAVE:
* Dave was investigated into involvement in a ring smuggling illicit teacozies into the Soviet Bloc in the 1980s
* He lists his hobbies as beer, girls, PlayStation and yelling at articulated lorries
* Jim NEVER fixed it for him. He still holds a grudge
* Once played a seven-hour poker hand with Russell T Davies, betting his car against looking rights into Freeyma Agyeman's dressing room (he hands the keys and log book over on Tuesday)
* Has a strange, intangible hatred of the number 47
* Is currently holding auditions for a comedy sidekick, but only if he's called Ron
* Almost got suspended from school, age seven, for starting a pontoon school using Monopoly money
* To this day doesn't know where his rosemary grows
* The death ray is in the works, and one day we shall all bow to him, his giant space station and fleet of funky orange space shuttles
* Only some of these facts are correct