Category: Guest Authors

Sorry for sitting on this one for so long, Andrew. Hopefully it hasn’t lost its bite…

Not quite in his padded cell; Galad said a prayer for DPM John Prescott MP. The bloody great row about him and his relationship with AEG did a great job of deflecting unwanted attention from Galad’s latest project. Even the reports of disappearances from Scottish cities had disappeared into the back pages of the newspapers. Yet again, Galad had been saved by the stupidity of others. He wrote his spell in blood on the ancient parchment. It was fortunate that tramp’s blood worked as well as virgin’s. “Nicely done John ole’ boy.” He smirked as he murmured aloud to himself.

Sauntering into the scene
Getting all’s attention
Looking for the cream
With loads of pretention
Misery is all they leave
For the money they crave
Discord is all they leave
Trashing reps o’ the brave
Hailing from exotic places
Lieing about past traces
Pick em’ off one by one
Until they are the Don
Looks don’t matter loads
Justs take a bit o’ bold
Fat or fine works just the same
When handing out the pain
Misery is all they leave
For the money they crave
Discord is all they leave
Trashing reps o’ the brave oh yeah

Andrew Ian Dodge continues the story of Galad:

Unlike some of his fellow mass exterminators; Galad didn’t have an army protecting him from his persecutors. He once had a small army around him to make sure no one got near but that was not really possible in the modern day. He had a few helpers and that was it. His fate would to be stuck in a sound-absorbent padded cell until death. His captors wouldn’t be keen on any chanting or praying lest he calls for help. He would be fed three meals a day. He wondered how long he would take to revert to his true form.

Andrew has a new podcast called Dodging Reality that’s an eclectic blend of various contributors. If you’re got an opinion and a moment to record your thoughts, why not give Andrew a shout and send your recordings his way?

Andrew Ian Dodge continues the creepy saga of… GALAD!

Galad wasn’t known to panic. He generally eliminated his problems without prejudice. He was feeling a bit of it now it has to be said. The delays to the project due to lack of raw materials was getting the Evening Standard interested. And Galad was wise enough to know in his business it was unwise to go around knocking off reporters. He really did need to get some more supplies and quick. His trickle of addicts and homeless from London was not doing the trick. Galad impatiently waited to see if his Scottish source could supply any more from Glasgow.

Andrew Ian Dodge brings us another weekly ponder from The Sage:

The Sage: “Satin. The Devil’s fabric or a friend of the righteous? An odd question you might think one imagines. Anyone who has tried to get frisky on satin sheets knows that it is to leaping on the bed what a wet road is to a 60s Corvette 487. Flying off at speed while in the buff leads to interesting rug burns. Priests wear it, fat women wear it to weddings so it must be righteous right?”
Those on the other end of voice-over-ip conference sat at their computers befuddled… again.
The Sage smirked.

Andrew Ian Dodge follows the creepy tale of Galad…

Galad slammed the phone down in frustration; his food supplier had been arrested in Dover on his way in with another load.
His arrogance, as was typical with Romania gangsters, had got the better of him. Baiting the BBC had not helped either. It was a hindrance more than a problem; he would now have to deal with the Russians.
“Work” on the fill under the Olympic area would probably end for a few days; as it did not like working hungry. Galad could get a few homeless rounded up to keep things moving; dangerous in London.
People gave a shit here.

Do we have another epic tale from Andrew Ian Dodge in the works?

Galad stood before a large window overlooking London; having just gotten off the phone with his mate Ken.
He specifically bid for the contract to do building nearest the water; the most complicated work over lots of tunnels and sewers.
His company specialised in working underground. They were well-known for their prompt and impressive work. Their digging was always precise and straight. His workers never went on strike; neither were they seen terribly often.
He picked up the phone.
“How long for the load of treats from Eastern Europe. We need it motivated for the next phase.”
He growled coarsely.

Andrew Ian Dodge tells a tale of a mighty crew…

“Get out of here! That…thing down there is coming! I warned them! I told them that it was bad being here! I warned them…”
“What’s coming for us?” I tried to give him a talisman.
“Don’t you understand? He knows I know he’s coming, nothing can save me…”
“You can come with us…”
“No! Then I will doom you too. You must go now!” He shoved us out the door. I caught a glimpse of the books on his desk; books with horrible names. There were odd characters scrawled on pieces of paper.
Cal slammed…bolted the ship’s door…we ran free.

Andrew Ian Dodge puts on his Viking helmet and sings…

Æsa was right, of course, he easily defeated the monster and drove him away from their shores. He taught the village how to make sure they were never bothered again. Helping them inscribe his “rune” on their ships and on their weapons. No other people but those of Birger dared to wear the sign however, merely preferring to have it on things not on their own flesh. Very quickly the Vikings began to venture farther a-field to explore, raid and trade…”
“Is that the real reason they were able to reach the Americas so long before Columbus?” asked Claire glibly.