‘Write as if posthumously’ is a fine old maxim, and here it feels unnervingly appropriate: the entire Palm-shaded Pandemic in Paradise is a ghostly post-vita experience for the Stumbling Swayze.īuy my book, and feel comfortable and witty at parties, smell fresh, sweat fragrantly and taste sweet, as doors open, ropes part, champagne supernovas form in the cosmoi and the moist magic of warm wet flesh envelopes your loins, while sexually charismatic nymphomaniacs chase you down the street like Hard Day’s fookin Night. Post-2019 is unreliably narrated, with new cognitive faculties, but hey-someone should laugh. I even squeezed in a few posthumous ‘Pandemic in Paradise’ tales, of Predatory Pigs in the Palm-shade, ‘Holding Moments By The Stem’, ‘survival tribes’ and shrinking, peripheral worlds two or three lavishly illustrated stories to share round the campfire. See "Surreal Dreamscapes: Mind-Bending Mayhem in Absurdistan, The Fletch Anthology 2011-22"… each story compiled from 22-33.įrom writing a screenplay in Ibiza with a 'music producer' (RIP) whilst living with a 'BBC television director' departing to write a documentary in Thailand the fightsport journalism years, flag tied to the mast of m€th-fried mentalists in a den of Phuket lunacy embedded early with (then banned from) the future world’s largest fight promotion, ONE Championship charity fights and childlike juvenilia general spoofs and lampoonery choosing to be a poor man with pals in Indonesia rather than a rich and miserable man in Singapore moving to Indo with the Leone Brothers in 2014 the Bali MMA years the Rise and Ráp3 of Canggu Kedungu and the Pigstone rice paddy panoramas all the rascals and rogues in that rich tapestry romantic omnishambles, face-melting, melon-twisting mayhem and misadventures, dead friends and lovers, disaster, relief psychophysical annihilation and treachery earthquakes and landslides, eruptions, tsunami alerts crashes and jackings, lynchings and chaos-all the life and death in those surreal dreamscapes of that endless second, into which time collapsed…
Three pandemictime years in Pha-ngan produced a short story anthology, and the book "Wolves Eat Lambs" then as of xmas 2022, Fletch is volunteering in the Ukraine war. A move to Bali, Indonesia came in August 2014 'The Acid Diary' followed in December, and two more books thereafter… and after disaster, relief, torture, betrayal and mayhem: a pandemic in the palm-shade of paradise, elsewhere. Left for Spain aged 22 in 2011, writing 'Jackboot Britain', thence relocating to Thailand in January 2012, working as an amateur freelance reporter.
Fletch-Bali-based British writer from Leeds, England.
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