I’m really honoured and a bit gobsmacked to have a very unusual guest script post from the two writers of the comedy sci-fi The Worst Man On Mars, Mark Roman and Corben Duke. Actually I’m still laughing at this.
Corben Duke: Hey, Doc, put down that test tube and listen up. Breaking News … a telegram’s arrived from Mrs Bloggs!
Mark Roman: A telegram, eh? Sounds important.
CD: No, not a telegram. One of those new-fangled thingies.
CD: Not quite so new-fangled.
CD: That’s the one.
MR: What does it say?
CD: She’d like us to write a guest article for her blog.
MR: Good Lord! An article, you say? Sounds jolly exciting. Any idea what a ‘blog’ is?
CD: None whatsoever.
MR: Well luckily, I have just the thing for her! A paper on the hyperdimensional singularities of the Pseudogravitic Continuum. Here, have a read. I think you’ll find it enlightening. If you think it a little dry you can throw in a few jokes. Not too many though!
CD: Looks great, Doc, but wrong crowd.
CD: Firstly, only nine people in the world have ever heard of the Pseudogravitic Continuum, and secondly she wants us to tell her readers about our book.
MR: Book? What book?
CD: The Worst Man on Mars.
MR: Name sounds familiar.
CD: It’s the one about Flint Dugdale – the pie-munching Yorkshireman who’s all set to be the first man on Mars, but then all that other stuff happens.
MR: What kind of nonsense is that?
CD: Sci-fi comedy.
MR: Really? Was it any good?
CD: Totally brilliant … apart from the bits you wrote.
MR: Well what do you expect? I’m a scientist and don’t see the point of comedy.
MR: Tell me more about the book. I’ve not seen it around for a while.
CD: It was published. By Grand Mal Press of the US of A.
MR: Grand malpractice?
CD: Press. It’s on Amazon.
MR: Extraordinary! You can get anything on Amazon these days. So what does Mrs Bloggs want to know?
CD: Usual kind of stuff. Influences. Message. Purpose.
MR: Blimey. I’ve no idea. You?
CD: Well, it just so happens that … in this shoebox on this shelf here … I saved some of the items that inspired the story.
MR: Jolly good. Let’s open it then.
Mr Winkles (CD’s dog): Woof. Woof, woof!
CD: No, Mr Winkles, no! Silly dog! It’s a shoebox, not a biscuit tin. Back in your basket, boy! Now, where was I?
MR: Items that inspired the story.
CD: Ah, yes. This shoebox was left me by Grandpa Helmut.
MR: The rocket scientist?
CD: That’s the dude. Crazy as a coconut. Anyway, let’s see what’s inside, shall we?
MR: A large pair of underpants, unless I’m very much mistaken.
CD: You are indeed very much mistaken, Doc. These are wrestling shorts. They once belonged to Big Daddy – Yorkshire’s legendary wrestling champion and inspiration for Flint Dugdale. I’d quite forgotten how large they were. Gramps was a great fan. Used to go to all his bouts until Big Daddy’s spectacular aeroplane spin went wrong and ended with Mick McManus being catapulted into the second row of the audience where he landed on poor old gramps.
CD: Gramps never went to a wrestling match again. Come to think of it, he never went anywhere again.
MR: Anything else?
CD: Ah, yes. Gramps’s prized possession: a presentation case containing ten perfect toenail clippings from Buzz Aldrin. I still remember the day he outbid Sir Patrick Moore on Ebay for them.
MR: What part of the story did they inspire?
CD: Can’t recall.
MR: Great. What else?
CD: That’s it.
MR: Must be a pretty short book.
CD: Nearly 400 pages.
MR: Goodness. And all inspired by a pair of wrestling shorts and a set of nail-clippings?
CD: Pretty much.
MR: Mrs Bloggs won’t be too happy with that. We’re going to have to make something up. What’s in the book?
CD: Er, let’s see. The dysfunctional British colonists, led by Flint Dugdale. A couple of mad scientists.
MR: I bet I wrote those parts.
CD: You did. Then there are the useless British robots building the base on Mars. They’ve messed up the dimensions, and lost the food supplies, and forgotten to fill the base with air, and they think humans are their heroes but go off them after a bit. There’s a supercomputer with a massive ego. Then there’s the mysterious Other Place. Oh, and there’s life on Mars. And a couple of murders. And the space elevator from Penge Shopping Centre. Not forgetting the strange winds that swirl around the planet.
MR: None of that came from your shoebox.
MR: Basically, we’ve got nothing for her. Completely useless.
CD: I’ll e-mail her an apology right away.
MR: Aren’t you forgetting something?
MR: My paper on the hyperdimensional singularities of the Pseudogravitic Continuum.
Thank you both 😂😂🙀