M J Johnson
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The Saturday Night Laurel and Hardy Came to the Rescue

29/5/2013

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In our home television is something rarely watched. Not because we have anything against television, it's great, but we rarely find time during the week, and at the weekend we generally catch a film on DVD. My wife Judith and I definitely like reading best of all. However, as I've mentioned a number of times now in these columns, we are very partial to visits to our local cinema when they show plays transmitted/streamed 'Live' from the National Theatre on London's South Bank. The last one we watched was a few weeks back, and a truly exceptional example of ensemble theatre it was too. So much so, that it would seem unjust to mention any individual as outstanding, the entire cast was working very hard indeed and acting their collective socks off!

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The play was This House, a brand new comedy by James Graham set in the Houses of Parliament. Believe me, I wouldn't have considered it likely to spend an evening surrounded by uproarious laughter, watching a play about the respective Whips' offices of the Government and its Opposition - but this was how it was! It's set in 1974, a time when a Labour government held on to power with the tiniest of majorities. It was a period of social upheaval, of ferocious rivalry in Parliament yet with little ground ever gained to show for it. Not much could be achieved politically because it was always necessary for the government to strike deals with the minor parties at Westminster - a kind of political doldrums existed! People were rushed in to the house to vote on Bills from their hospital or even 'death' beds. The wealth of North Sea Gas and Oil, that would shore-up and sustain the years of Margaret Thatcher's government, had not yet started flowing into government coffers. It would have been a difficult era to have been in power for a government of any persuasion. However, strangely, as I look back at that decade (I was nineteen in '74) there was a sense of equality and classlessness in British society that I have not recognised there since. I don't recall anyone in those times boasting about which prep school they went to, or even letting on they'd even been to one - cut-glass public school accents were most definitely toned down. The time of 'getting' was about to be born in the Eighties with a zealousness previously unknown in 20th century British life. Politicians are opportunistic by nature - leaf back through the pages of history and it is generally the timing of their ascendancy to power that enables them to acquire their reputed 'greatness', I think.

Unfortunately, the production of This House, after two highly successful runs at the National, has finally come to an end. However, you may be fortunate enough to catch an 'encore showing' at a cinema near you. I believe there are also showings at different and varying times right across the world. I highly recommend this production.


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So, I hear you thinking, where do Laurel and Hardy come into things? Well, last Saturday we'd had a busy day and decided to sit down and watch a DVD. We chose something that promised to be entertaining and undemanding, but which turned out to be pretty crass and cliched. The apocalyptic ending was, despite an attempt at a bit of positive spin, rather depressing. Judith had made the choice (I'd suggested something tried and tested, 'When Harry met Sally' in fact). She looked at me at the film's end and said dolefully, "Mmm, feel a bit depressed now ... should have listened to you." It was then I remembered my Laurel and Hardy collection - a Christmas gift from a couple of years back. We're gradually working our way through them. The classic L & H short we watched was Laughing Gravy, filmed in 1931. It's not hard to imagine the joy this pair of buffoons brought to people during an era of hardship and global depression. We laugh at their stupidity, yet we love them for their innocence. Nobody but Stan and Ollie could manage to get themselves from a sleeping bedroom to a boarding-house roof and evicted within the lifespan of a short film. We watch with delight as they concoct one of their familiar hair-brained, doomed-to-fail plans, to rescue their little dog, the eponymous 'Laughing Gravy', from being cast out into the snow by a tyrannical landlord!

Neither of us recalled ever watching this one before and we were still chuckling about it at breakfast next morning.

Pure delight! Sheer genius!


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Aunty Dorothy and Squire Yorke

22/5/2013

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We've all heard the concept 'six degrees of separation' (ie that we are all only six steps away from a physical connection to one another). Some say the odds have reduced substantially due to the advent of the internet. The idea has no great significance or bearing on the humorous little tale I'm about to narrate. However, the story's background certainly makes me think we live in a very small world indeed.
 
Over thirty years ago, aged twenty, I went to a party in South Kensington and met the
girl who I would later marry. It took just a few chats to ascertain that Judith's sister, also at the party that evening, had until recently lived in the Denbighshire village of Chirk. I immediately pointed out that my uncle Jack Dennis (married to my Aunty Dorothy - my mother's first cousin - so not really an aunty but enough to earn the title if you're Welsh) was the local vicar there. There were other connections too that my new girlfriend had with the area around Chirk. Her father, the late actor James Hayter, had once played in a repertory theatre company back in the early 1930s with a chap called Philip Yorke. Philip Yorke would later become the Squire of Erddig, a great house near the town of Wrexham in North Wales - a fairly short distance from Chirk. Philip Yorke had inherited the house and title of Sherrif from his late brother. As
children, my wife and her siblings had sometimes stayed at Erddig Hall and all had been deeply touched by the gentle kindness of PhilipYorke. After the death of his brother, the death duties were so punitive, that the lion's share of anything that was sold went off to enrich the taxman. Philip Yorke was a man of humble needs and lived on a meagre income in the vast crumbling pile that he dearly loved.
 
Some time later (approx 1978), when I was working at the theatre in Mold in North Wales, Judith came up for a brief visit and I took her to meet my Uncle Jack and Aunty Dorothy in Chirk. When Judith explained her connection with Erddig Hall and Philip Yorke, my Aunt told us this story - worthy of P G Wodehouse in its eccentricity and dottiness I think!
PicturePhilip Yorke and Trixie
One afternoon, shortly after my Uncle Jack had been appointed vicar of Chirk, he decided to call at Erddig Hall and introduce himself to Squire Yorke. Aunty Dorothy, who had accompanied him that afternoon, decided to stay in the car which was parked at the front of the house while her husband went off to see if he could rouse someone and make himself known. He had been gone some time, about ten minutes, when the main door to the great house opened and an elderly gentleman popped out. He sauntered down the steps and greeted Aunt Dorothy warmly. He introduced himself as Philip Yorke, and asked if she would care to
join them for tea. From Mr Yorke's friendly manner she assumed that he was already acquainted with her husband. Confident that she would soon be reunited with her partner she happily went along with the nice gentleman.
 
Yet, when she was shown into the parlour, there was no sign whatever of Jack, and the tea tray was only arranged for two. However, at this point she didn't doubt for a moment that her husband would be appearing very soon. Aunty Dorothy and Philip Yorke chatted, shared a pot of tea and ate some sandwiches together. But as time went on she couldn't help wondering where her Jack had got to. Mr Yorke was a charming host, but after another fifteen minutes or so, and with still with no sign of or mention of her husband, she was starting to feel more than a little bit uncomfortable.
 
Finally, after making much polite conversation, Philip Yorke graciously enquired of his guest, “And so my dear, why have you come here to see me today?”

PictureAunty Dorothy
Aunty Dorothy said it suddenly struck her that the man she'd had tea with didn’t have the foggiest clue who on earth she was. She also immediately pictured all kinds
of terrible accidents that may have befallen her Jack. However, fortunately, at that very moment the door opened and in entered her husband along with Bertram
Heyhoe. Bertram was an old friend of Philip Yorke's, also from his earliest days in repertory theatre, who had lived at the house with him for a number of years. It turned out that Jack, when he’d left Dorothy in the car, had ventured round the back of the house where he’d bumped into Bertram who'd proceeded to give him a brief tour of the house and its gardens.

 
They all had a jolly good laugh about the confusion and some more tea and sandwiches
were produced.
 
(I think this tale dates from the early 1970s. We recently drove up to North Wales to attend my Aunty Dorothy's funeral. She was eighty-eight years of age, had experienced some poor health recently but died peacefully in the company of her daughter, Penny. Aunty Dorothy had a dry sense of humour; she was warm and kind but could appear to be a little vague and absent-minded. I am assured by her son, Michael, that the above story is not alone in the many misunderstandings that often took place around her. She and my own mother had played together as girls. When they met in later years it was always a pleasure to watch them
interact and see how swiftly their old cameraderie was resumed. Aunty Dorothy was a rich character and my family and I will most certainly miss her).


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Road Rage - A Sad Reality if Driving in the UK

16/5/2013

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I thought as I'd written a book entitled Roadrage - which certainly 'appears' to contain a road rage incident - that I ought to take a look at road rage as the fairly common experience it is on Britain's roads. According to recent statistics Britain holds the title as world road rage capital. Nothing to be proud of about that you might think? Apparently not so; according to one motoring magazine three out of five of those admitting they had themselves been guilty of committing road rage, declared they felt okay about it and that the other person deserved it. According to a recent Gallup poll, over 80% of British drivers have at some time fallen victim to it with an astounding nine out of ten UK drivers being on the receiving end of it at least once.

In the process of researching this blog piece, I came across some pretty horrendous stuff, like the thirty year old male who physically assaulted an eighty-one year old woman and left her with facial injuries and feeling extremely scared and vulnerable. The reason the man gave for the attack was that the woman was driving too slowly. Speaking in his own defence and trying to justify his vicious assault on her, he claimed the woman had attacked him first. Apparently this was after he'd called her, "A f****ing bitch," and a "Stupid old cow" and she had quietly gestured with a hand towards his mouth and asked him not to use such bad language. Or, how about the van driver who was so irritated by another road user's driving, and after they had each exchanged a few rude gesticulations, produced a gun and pointed it at them in a threatening manner. It turned out to be a toy gun! Funny huh? An incident between two female drivers reported in the Guardian recently, left one woman dead after the other one drove her car directly at her after an argument then sped away from the crime scene.

Yes, driving can be a stressful business but I can't believe anyone in their right mind would consider the three examples I give above as remotely justifiable. I suspect road rage incidents say far more about the society we live in, a society that we are all responsible for creating, than we might readily care to admit. My parents instilled into me a respect for others, especially for those who are elderly, less capable, or are vulnerable in some way. I just can't imagine being angry enough to strike an eighty-one year old woman or to verbally abuse her as described above, no matter how slow she's driving!

Three words spring unheeded to mind, they strike me as words far more commonly used in the past - but then perhaps I'm in danger here of looking back through rose tinted specs. I don't know, we were most definitely a less affluent, aspirational society when I was a youngster and three little words seem to have been far more prevalent then. The words I'm thinking of: respectfulness, politeness and courtesy. The only time I hear that word 'courtesy' these days is when our car breaks down and we get a replacement one for a day or two.

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The Whole Roadrage Cover, Full Blurb and Sample

8/5/2013

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PictureThe full cover of print version - design Tom Johnson
Wrong Place, Wrong Time
 ... Gil had managed about thirty yards before he realised to his horror that the other car was tagging alongside ... the speedometer needle passed eighty, eighty-five, ninety. At each of these stages Gil looked over his shoulder to see if his pursuer had given up. There was no change. Ninety-five, a
hundred, a hundred and five; his persecutor was right beside him. Gil was beginning to feel a loss of control in the steering as the wheels found it increasingly difficult to gain purchase on the wet surface. At a hundred and ten Gil had nosed ahead by a few yards, a cold sweat breaking out on his upper lip, the car slithering like a toboggan on a slalom run
 ...

Gil Harper is travelling home in severe weather conditions when he encounters another car on a deserted motorway. The other driver provokes him into a dangerous race at high speed. Although deeply shaken by the experience, Gil eventually gets away and completes his journey safely. 

A short time afterwards there begins a series of apparently unrelated events. What seems at first to be a vindictive game escalates into a terrifying ordeal with lethal consequences, not only for Gil, but for all those he loves and cares about.
 
Trouble isn't always personal 

If together with the artwork this has managed to whet your appetite and you just can't bear the wait until 3 June when the book becomes available - you can read some more! As I did with Niedermayer & Hart, I'm posting an excerpt from the book's opening for your personal enjoyment. I hope you enjoy this and that in due course it will encourage you to purchase the whole book. If you do, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

roadrage_pdf_sample.pdf
File Size: 505 kb
File Type: pdf
Download File

Enjoy!
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*One-off Promotion for May Only

1/5/2013

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I have been delighted by the response of readers to my first novel Niedermayer & Hart which has been clocking up praise on Amazon and Goodreads. As an independent author, it's extremely gratifying when people from as far afield as Australia's Gold Coast or Oklahoma, who have somehow discovered your book, choose to post a review. And fortunately, so far at least, I am delighted to say these have all been extremely positive.

Roadrage is a very different kind of book to Niedermayer & Hart. If I was asked to give a 'smart description', I'd say it's a psychological thriller that examines the corrosive effect of obsession and hate. However, what it definitely has in common with Niedermayer & Hart (at least is meant to have!) is that it's a page-turner - just without any supernatural shenanigans.

It is now possible to place a pre-order for Roadrage through Odd Dog Press or via the To Buy page on this site using PayPal.

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*Also, but only available during the month of May, Odd Dog Press is offering an opportunity to get both printed versions of Niedermayer & Hart (£12.99) and Roadrage (£12.99) at a one-off promotional combined price of £18 (a saving of £7.98 - with p&p incl). Unfortunately, this offer is available to UK mainland purchasers only.

Roadrage by M J Johnson

ISBN: 978-0-9562873-4-2

Roadrage is a psychological thriller. The book is set largely in West Kent, on the fringe of the London commuter belt but concludes on the rugged coastline of West Wales. Its main protagonist, Gil Harper, is a successful book illustrator who has collaborated for nearly two decades with one of the world's leading children's authors. Despite enjoying an outwardly comfortable existence, Gil has become rather withdrawn since he lost his wife in an accident five years prior to the book's opening. His closest friends have long been concerned for his wellbeing, and are delighted when they learn he has recently met someone new.

At the start of Roadrage, Gil is driving home during a public holiday in atrocious rain. He and his dog, Spike, seem to have the road entirely to themselves. Then, in his rear-view mirror he spies the headlights of another car approaching fast ...

Roadrage is out 3 June, available in trade paperback and e-book versions.


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    Available in paperback and ebook:
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