You can find out more about Story Song Press by following this link. And watch this space for exact publication dates and purchase links.
‘Being & Becoming’ – Sein und Werden is a literary magazine of experimental prose, poetry and artwork that seeks to merge and modernise the ideas behind Expressionism, Surrealism and Existentialism.
And here’s a screenprint snippet of the story:
Congratulations to James Donnelly and Mark Piggot who won the recent ‘Fergie’s Finest’ Facebook competition and each won a signed copty of the book.
Like this page on Facebook to find out about more competitions and offers: https://www.facebook.com/FergiesFinestAJKirby #mufc
Endeavour Press was the puiblisher of the ebook version of Fergie’s Finest and you can visit their website here: http://www.endeavourpress.com/
My piece on head injuries in football (which coincidentally mentions Rooney) is on the Republik of Mancunia website here: http://therepublikofmancunia.com/head-injuries-and-wayne-rooney/
And here’s a quick taster:
“The findings of a study into the long-term effects on the brain of heading footballs were published this week in the online journal Radiology. According to the report, footballers who head the ball with “high frequency” show piss-poor performance in memory tests, and have “brain abnormalities similar to those found in traumatic brain injury patients.”
It reminds me of a test they ran a few years back in which boffins sought to discover whether boxers suffered any adverse effects to being smacked in the head over and over. Or the old one about bears, crapping, and woods. Bare-faced stating the obvious is what it is.”
In the past month alone, their numbers have been decimated. They have been culled like badgers, like diseased cattle. Thrown onto a farm bonfire and left to burn, baby, burn. They have been defenestrated. Decapitated. Hung (and drawn, and quartered) out to dry.
It’s a wonder some charity purporting to ‘stand-up’ for endangered species has not become involved.
It’s a national disgrace our puffin-faced PM, Diddy David Cameron, has not erected himself in the House of Commons. Slapped a heavy, gold-bracelet-weighted wrist onto the despatch box. And told us we’re not having it. (Or maybe that we might be having it in a few years time: don’t listen to those rebel back-benchers.) It defies belief a national day of mourning has not been called. We should, right now, be lining the streets, hats clasped to our chests, trousers at half-mast. Clocks should be stopped, drums muffled. Muzzle that dog who wants a juicy bone.
For they are… Well, they’re not dead, but they’re as good as. They are not Premier League managers any more. They have gone gentle into that good night, or they have raged against the dying of the light, but, ultimately, it has come to nought.
Get your hands on a copy by following this link: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Under-the-Moon-Gate-ebook/dp/B00CGDQ1S4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1370948726&sr=8-1&keywords=Under+the+Moon+Gate