Another Shameless Plug

FOT616130 Typical Spanish Electric Plug

 

Here’s a chance to part with some of your money on your very own copy of the Make Yourself Uncomfortable book.

I know! Awesome, right?

196-page perfect-bound paperback only $9.30 here.

Kindle edition for UK readers £3.77 here.

Kindle edition for USA readers $4.99 here.

Or- search for ‘gridcharts’ in your local amazon store (though they’re quoting a silly price for the paperback).

Reviews so far:

I read “Make yourself uncomfortable”. I took it on holiday with me to Crete. I thought it would be a nice read on the beach. Well I ended up reading it all on the flight and within the first day…I couldn’t put it down. Very funny, I was laughing out loud, embarrasingly in the airplane on the flight out. Of course I enjoyed the story of when you were high at university for Marnie’s show. I actually remember crossing you in the corridor on that day as I was rehearsing there too. I remember you looking very worried and telling me you had had too many drugs. I seem to remember just telling you that everything would be fine and that you should just go home and sleep. I thoroughly enjoyed all the stories and cartoons, great variety. I specifically enjoyed the irony of the title, as there is nothing more comforting than reading about other peoples discomfort. Great job, and I look forward to the next book.

“Mr Gridcharts lays bear the sordid tales of a life lived close to a certain kind of edge. Acerbic tongue fairly burning a hole through cheek, he relates youthful tales of growing up the son of a publican in England, his forays into working for a roving drama troupe, and his psychonautic explorations both dark and light. Always funny, occasionally moving, and actually very well-written this is well-deserving of an armchair and a cup of tea, or a bottle of wine, or whatever else it takes to get you through the day. Top marks, and I eagerly await the next one! “

“Make Yourself Uncomfortable is a collection of memoirs written by a hard luck, sardonic misfit. It’s about growing up in the UK in the Nineties and Noughties. About mispent youth and drug-fuelled excess. About unfulfilling desk jobs and living for the weekend. It’s also very funny indeed and deserves your eyeballs. Grab yourself a copy, you won’t be disappointed. “

“Quirky, witty and surprisingly touching. I thoroughly enjoyed this laugh-out funny story of young man’s coming of age, complete with encounters of the supernatural, and mild-altering substances, not necessarily at the same time! Have to confess I didn’t understand any of the comics… but I put that down to being over 40 and not having done enough drugs in my life.”

“Ron’s Jamie Oliver ‘interlude’ had me in stitches and the Stratford Bear episode (with accompanying drawing – just for the kids) was genius. This is the story of (almost) every rural market town teenager’s struggle.”

“With a title like that, this book was never going to be an easy read, or so I thought. Happily, it turned out to be a highly entertaining read, which made me laugh out loud at times. And wince a bit too admittedly. Ron Gridcharts has managed to make what could have been a tale of abject autobiographical despair very engaging and funny too in places. The chapters are short and well written to leave you wanting more, and the glimpses into different stages of Gridcharts’ crazy life are given sparingly and unsentimentally. Gridcharts writes about lack of control with great control and certainly doesn’t spare himself, presenting the ups and downs of his drug-driven, cash-strapped twenties and thirties in dark, graphic detail. The chapters are interspersed with original cartoons, hand-drawn with great skill and veering from rude to silly to groan-inducing. Guaranteed to get you sniggering. I was definitely left wondering what happens next, and after a debut like this I can’t wait to see what Gridcharts’ talent will produce. I’d definitely recommend this book; original, memorable, courageous and unlike any other book you’ve read before.”

“An enjoyable read. This is a writer who manages to engage, amuse and shock. I look forward to more of his work.”

 

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Down to the Roach

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I was rather upset tonight when a cockroach the size of a large cockroach decided to fly into my T-shirt when I was taking a slash at my regular seafront bar.

The beating of its exoskeleton against my collarbone as it tried in vain to escape the sweaty cotton was perplexing at first but then when it finally got out and flew onto a nearby wall next to my table, I realised I hadn’t been imagining the sensation at all. Its antennae gloated at me for a full five minutes. It didn’t want to leave due to the rain and neither did I.

Myeik. Tropical paradise or what?

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Myeik Yourself Thinner

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Despite having lived in East Asia for over ten years, I tend to avoid eating the local cuisine where possible. This isn’t due to some politically-correct fear of cultural appropriation or some right-wing fear of cultural assimilation but due to a much more practical consideration. Most of what is on offer sucks. Big time. From kimchi, dog and chunks of raw fish in South Korea (where half the adults have intestinal marine parasites) to Vietnamese entrails and organs and now to the backwaters of Myanmar where nothing is served that does not come half-drowned in a lake of palm oil, even finding enough nutrition to sustain myself means that the majority of my calories come from Beer Chang and the rest from biscuits.

Tonight’s fiasco is typical in Myeik. I decided to walk to the Myeik Shopping Centre where I have now had three semi-edible chicken burgers. I know that I have seen the last of their ‘Western Breakfasts’ after I ate the entire supply of butter in the city (one individual serving of Anchor) and, although I sometimes wonder if there was a time when half the menu wasn’t obscured by electrician’s tape, I have long since stopped speculating what lies beneath the black plastic. It is as off-limits to the curious bystander as a heavily-guarded murder scene:

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Arriving and sitting in the window to watch the sun peek weakly through the banks of clouds, I pointed at the picture of the chicken burger then to the picture of onion rings. I even smiled as I passed the menu back to their waitress.

She came straight back to the table, saying “Onion rings. No.” They do the same kind of hand gesture to show a negative as they do in Vietnam: the one that means something is dodgy or unlikely in the UK, and so I pointed instead at the potato croquettes.

Again she returned, laughing in embarrassment (which, despite years of being as culturally sensitive as possible, still winds me up), saying “Potato. No.”

I sighed, consoling myself that at least there would be chicken burger, drank some water, checked my emails.

Eventually she returned to say “Chicken. No.”

At that point, I snapped, “Oh for fuck’s sake!” and stormed next door to the Hong Kong Kitchen and its entirely Burmese menu but they didn’t know what ‘chow mein’ was until I typed ‘Chinese noodles’ into google translate. I managed about half before growing bored of it.

At least Chinese food is reasonably edible, but that’s mainly down to the huge amounts of MSG that they pour into everything they can to jazz up the underlying blandness.

When I paid and left, I walked downstairs to find the supermarket inexplicably closed for the day (Friday) and so now don’t even have biscuits for breakfast.

Beer it will have to be.

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Hate Crime

Guardian ‘journalist’ Julie Bindel tweeted the following on Monday:

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I have reported her to Avon and Somerset Constabulary for Hate Crime. They will get back to me within seven days.

I’ll let you know how / if this develops.

In the meantime, please share this and, if a UK citizen, report her to the police also. It’s a small step to regaining autonomy but this is frankly pure evil.

Here’s the link to report Hate Crime:

http://www.report-it.org.uk/your_police_force

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Update- 7 hours later:

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As her comments were made on twitter not in The Guardian (as my complaint made clear) this is a clear “buzz off and stop bothering us.”

 

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George Sore Arse

george soros huge leak

http://soros.dcleaks.com/

In case you don’t know, shadowy globalist George Soros’ various front organisations have had all their communications leaked. They provide proof of his co-ordination of world events and his control of puppet politicians.

He is indirectly responsible for my father’s death (his business failed after Soros shorted the British Pound in the 90s) and many millions more.

Find out what he plans for YOUR country at the link.

Corbett reports on what has been found so far here:

 

Picking at The Scab

The Scab is, and always has been, a notorious dive pub in my hometown in England- a place I left twenty years ago.

Recently, I have been receiving emails from some of its regulars that confirm things in the UK have not only gone, to quote Richard Littledick, to hell in a handbasket, but that Hell is actually a place where gangbangs happen regularly on the pool table (the ‘pool’ being actually diseased semen glooping into the pockets) and the all-you-can-eat buffet comprises of human flesh when the regulars are spent.

Meanwhile, crack cocaine and crystal meth are smoked in the toilets between people’s grand-daughters being violated with pool cues and two-for-one offers on IPA and Ruddles Bitter.

Frankly, I don’t know who is going to Hell quicker- them for sending me this or me for publicising it. But fuck it. Seems to be the way things are sliding these days.

In no particular order, let me present Nocturnal Sex Fiend:

Sex Fiend

and Divine Porcine:

photo Continue reading Picking at The Scab

Curly Fries

You know how some people see Jesus in a piece of toast or the name of God (by whatever monicker the Demiurge is choosing to go by) in a split avacado or whatever?

Well, my mate DJ Stevie Diamond happened upon this clear and unambiguous sign in his curly fries just yesterday.

It’s a truthful message to the people of this world at what, we can all agree, is a desperate time indeed.

My heart chakras all opened up and stuff to see this spelled out so clearly and is a sign which can only resonate with ALL of us at this critical juncture in the evolution of our species:

 

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Well Cum

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As the audience for this site has increased a fair bit in the last few days, and to try to build on this before it fizzles away, here is my elevator pitch:

WE’RE GOING DOWN. WHICH FLOOR ARE YOU GETTING OFF ON?

The site is generally dark humour / satire interspersed with some personal stories of what has been a colourful and deeply bizarre life. I didn’t go looking for weird. It came knocking.

I rejected conformity and trust in authority at a very tender age, seeing them as the imposed and self-serving narratives of those who seek to cage and control us.

Life is not a plantation and going along for the sake of getting along is a personal (and cowardly) choice, not an obligation.

I guess this makes me some kind of anarchist-libertarian but I tend to reject labels as an attempt to categorise and therefore pigeon-hole us.

Labels are for losers. The only thing that stays in a pigeon hole is pigeon shit.

I left the UK in 2004 in the aftermath of the neocon war of aggression in Iraq and am very glad I did so. I didn’t have an easy life at all there and the complacency of those around me who told me to shush and stop rocking the boat was frankly sickening.

Since then I have lived and worked in numerous countries in the Middle and Far East, with a brief stint back in Bristol where I found that I was now completely unemployable in the UK.

So be it.

Things have been way more interesting away from the TV and the supermarket two-for-ones in any case.

For new readers, here are the ten most popular (but not, IMO best) posts on this site:

The West Wing

(A deeply uncomfortable experience that may have been down to drux or demonic djinn. Fuck it. It’s a spooky story)

My Lovely Girlfriend

(A frankly stupid joke I made earlier this week which has now been viewed nearly 4,000 times.)

Wacky Krazyballs

(A cartoon I drew in the 90s whose popularity I suspect is mainly due to attempts to hack the site. Still, it’s not bad)

Apple Exclusive

(A satirical gushing piece I wrote after discovering an Apple-branded lighter in Vietnam)

Frozen Vaginas

(A news story I stumbled upon- there are some fucked up people out there)

Loony Choons

(My take on the Mandela Effect, pointing out a few anomalies)

Stand and Do Liver

(Part of an autobiography of my early 20s which I had to abort as too painful to continue with)

Mickleton

(A piss-take of the small village in the English Cotswolds in which I spent my childhood)

Pix Nix Time

(Some funny photos of bad English taken during my years of wandering)

Kim Kardashian’s Bum

(Did you know she never wipes it?)

There’s plenty of other good shit on here- please poke around. I’m not writing this as a personal catharsis. I have beer for that. It’s meant to entertain. I’m happy if it does; happier still if you buy a copy of my book. There are no adverts on here for a reason and, no, it’s not because you’re using an ad blocker.

It’s because I am not sucking the corporate cock.

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