Tuesday, 3 December 2013

ENGLAND Goes eXPpress???



TECHNICALLY THAT IS NOT ENTIRELY CORRECT. THE BOOK I AM FEATURING FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS IS CALLED NGLND XPX.

WHAT DOES THAT STAND FOR? NOT A F&%#@ CLUE!! BUT LET ME TELL YOU THIS... READ ON! YOU WILL WANT TO BUY THIS BOOK JUST AS MUCH AS I WANT TO. I CAN KICK MYSELF FOR NOT BUYING THIS BEFORE!!



HERE IS WHY...



Please prepare to be grabbed by the ankle and dragged screaming into a world of funny and not so funny scifi-ish fiction, a soupcon of some dashed fine adventure and a spot of Ealing-esque farce.

Rub shoulders with small robots carrying teddy bears and issuing tablets of Commandments to chaps wandering out of the desert. Squirm in a grandstand seat during an Industrial Revolution completely re-written just to see the new-fangled steam trains running over well-intentioned children (no real harm done). Recognise your neighbours - polite English zombies coping with the dystopian hell of a socialist victory in the General Election. Man up, madam, and do your OAP National Service during the pensioner wars with an insect species. Watch in awe and not some little discomfort as Queen Elizabeth does the dishes for Europe and the Ministry of Defence quietly saves the world from a rogue comet.

No caricature is left unused and the science in the fiction is quite splendidly silly. This is a book to be read with tongue in cheek, preferably your own tongue and one of your own face cheeks unless you are very limber. The characters are as deep as summer puddles and the plots are as complicated as two planks of similarly-sized wood. Reality leaves the room on page one and farce enters just one chapter later. As literary feasts go this book is a paper bag of mint humbugs. It is the most fun that you can have with a librarian in the room without getting your ticket suspended.

The title NGLND XPX is a "text message" nod to Admiral Nelson’s splendidly rousing signal, sent just as a bit of a rumble that we now call The Battle of Trafalgar was about to begin in 1805 - ‘England expects that every man will do his duty.’ Admiral Nelson appears nowhere in this book.





BUT WAIT!! THERE'S SO MUCH MORE!!! THESE REVIEWS REALLY GRABBED ME BY THE ...(what do women have instead of nuts?)



5.0 out of 5 stars A delicious gathering of short stories to fill an evening with humor and fanciful explorations.

By Janice Wagar

I absolutely love Ian Hutson's lively, whimsical prose! His layered stories are entertaining on many different levels. While the concepts he explores are light-hearted, the underlying implications are often a commentary on the foibles of human nature.

His boundless imagination and wonderful facility for language are a real delight! This is a book to savor!





5.0 out of 5 stars Great fun!


By Chris Graham


For an adventure into the wonderfully colourful and no holds barred world of British Satire and Farce type humour, this is the book you've been waiting for.

Paddle in the gentle sea of words lapping around your mind, swim strongly through the surfers waves of words as they build to a crescendo and run desperately to keep just ahead of the tsunami of words in case they engulf you.









5.0 out of 5 stars Great entertainment


By ChristophFischerBooks TOP 500 REVIEWER


"NGLND XPX" by Ian Hutson is a very entertaining collection of humorous short stories, some absurd and off the wall, others more satirical and tongue in cheek.

The subjects of the stories range from science fiction and futuristic ideas to more traditional British and political themes.

As a non-British person living in the UK much of the stories that were rooted in persiflage and caricature of the contemporary Britain were particularly funny for me but even if you do not know who Boris or Blair are, you will be able to appreciate the jokes and ideas behind the stories.

Immigration and the future of humanity are some of the more serious subjects, Androids and Zombies are fleshing out the collection of original scenarios and ideas with some very cleverly written puns.

This is very enjoyable and a pleasant way to spend a few hours. It is non-offensive and easy to read.


5.0 out of 5 stars Utterly delicious!


By Aaron David


Ian Hutson should be sectioned under the mental health act... as soon as he publishes his 60th book. His imagination is a wonderful place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there. Ian's passionate love of the English language leaps out at from his writing. He builds a king size bed of words and wraps the reader in a luxurious literary duvet. A word of caution; allow plenty of time to read, his 'short' stories are epics. You don't want to have to stop reading half-way through.










LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: PLEASE CHECK OUT....







THE BLURB BY THE HILARIOUS IAN HUTSON!


Blathering nonsense if you ask me but what would I know? I just wrote it. Ten short stories mixing science fiction (risible science) with humour (Ealing Studios variety, farce and word-play). Queen Victoria and Sir Richard Branson kick off the re-imagined, steam-train laden Industrial Revolution with a game of cards and a dance (while the Railway Children get flattened). A small planetary plant survey robot called iG-0-D accidentally meets a Mr Moses in the Lake District desert region and issues a few Commandments. Her Majesty’s government replaces the Old Age Pension with National Service and sends the dribblies off into space to fight the bugs. That sort of thing. The titles give more of a clue:


The Model-T Virgin.
Begging your pardon, my lord, but Cook’s been eaten again.
Robots knitting with rubber needles.
Je pense it’s all going very bien.
Footloose, en pas de basque.
iG-0-D
In which Mr Cadwallader shampoos his parrot in the rain using some very dated popular science.
Diary of a National Service chap.
Blood-curdling screams and the Whitworth screw-thread.
The Day the Earth took tea.







IF YOU READ NOTHING ELSE, AT LEAST READ THIS AUTHORS FASCINATING BIO!!!


THE AWESOME IAN HUTSON!!

















I was born in the Croft Baker Maternity Home in Cleethorpes in nineteen-sixty. Fortunately, my mother was present at the event so it came as little surprise to the nursing staff. My father, a Grimsby deep-sea trawlerman radio-operator turned Ministry of Defence electronic warfare expert immediately took me out onto the roof, held me aloft and presented me to the waiting throng. There was a bit of a fuss of course so we all moved to Hong Kong to listen in on the dastardly communist mainland Chinese military radio traffic, and to enjoy the worst typhoon of the century (Wanda), the worst drought of the century (four hours of tap water every fourth day) and the worst cholera epidemic (no details for reasons of social propriety). Growing up spending not some little time in the company of the servants I spoke only Cantonese and a very little pidgin English.


The family bounced around for a bit as you do, on the run and then landed up on the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, Scotland, here to listen in to and jam the dastardly Cold War military signals of the communist U.S.S.R. Occasionally dad got it wrong and jammed television signals on the whole island, blaming the black-outs on the Russians of course. We lived on a couple of crofts in houses without mains water or bathrooms - and one with only one room that had the “electricity”. My sister and I fought for survival as the only sassenachs in the local schools and we kept pets - four cats, one Welsh collie and two sheep. I finally learned to read and write aged nine, in a place called the Nicolson Institute where the tawse (leather strap) was still used for student encouragement.


We wandered around England for a few years while dad worked on the nuclear V-Bombers at various RAF stations. For one year while waiting for a house to be built we lived in a friend’s open-to-the-public zoo - Banham Zoo, in Norfolk. I got to skive off school for the entire year and our shack was between the bear pit, the penguin pools and the monkey house. I used to go to sleep at night to the sound of the howler monkeys and gibbons calling and wake up to the sound of the zoo’s mascot giant turkey trying to batter the door down.


Did a bit of studying for a Bachelors in Operational Research Systems Analysis with some Maths and Physics thrown in, and then for a Masters in Industrial Relations (left-wing insurgency). Fell into the most incredibly dreary job in the British Civil Service for ten years, then fell from that into the most incredibly dreary jobs for some rotten multi-nationals. Highlights in all that time are limited to once getting one of the corporations fined a million and a half quid (nineteen-ninety-two prices), and once getting shot at while my car was stuck at traffic signals. Made my natural tendency towards biological redundancy official by taking voluntary redundancy and concentrated on running my own businesses.


Then the bottom of the world fell out and I hurtled like a motorised lemming into personal bankruptcy and a spot of standing to attention in front of a very sweet County Court lady Judge. Had the last laugh on the Official Receiver’s auctioneers though. They came to the house that I was about to lose which was twenty miles out in the countryside to load up my car with household valuables and drive them all off to auction - I siphoned everything out of the tank before they arrived, and they made it a mile back towards town before having to push... Tee et le hee eh?


I’ve been veggie since my teens, vegan for the past five years. I have an utter contempt for politicians - not a backbone or a moral to be found among them these days. I dislike the term “atheist” since I don’t lack religion; I simply don’t believe in other people’s peculiar god worship cults any more than I believe that the world is flat. Cats are alien, dogs are magnificent creatures, generally. Curry is the food of choice, water is the best drink there is and my favourite colour is blue, green, ruby red and faded tangerine. I’m too short-sighted to find my own specs unless I already have them on.


The W.I.P.


Working title - ‘Rupert Of The High Seas’. Involuntary time travel, pirates and action in a salty spray and a fog of landlubber confusion. A chap’s adventures as he attempts to stay alive and return to his own life without being too embarrassingly sea-sick or obviously out of his depth on the way.








FOLLOW THE HYSTERICAL GENIUS THAT IS IAN HUTSON!!!



























I'M OFF TO BEG, BORROW OR BRIBE TO GET THIS BOOK! BAIL MONEY MIGHT BE REQUIRED, BUT I'LL MAKE SURE YOU ARE NOTIFIED IN CASE I NEED IT.

BYE!!!