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Books. I’ve been in love with books forever. I’ve got thousands of them stacked all over the house. Just the word ‘book’ looks like a comfy, cosy bed, into which one could sink with a good, long book. Books…
I’ve wanted to write books for as long as I can remember. Not only that, I have written them, from ‘The Adventures Of The T Family’ in 1985 (in which the family’s mother foils a robbery in a toy shop by beating a burglar with her handbag, and which, incidentally, passes the Bechdel test) to the series of ‘comic’ novels I wrote in my early 20s and that no one will ever see. Because they are awful enough to shatter the enamel on your teeth.
I’ve writen for newspapers, radio, the television, the internet, but not books. I even got one of my manuscripts bound so it could sit on a bookcase with my name on the spine like a book, but I’ve never ritten anything that’s actually in a proper book. Until now.
True, when I visualised stroking the glossy covers of my masterpieces, they rarely had light-blue, undead revenants on the cover, turning to advce on the reader with a terrible, merciless glint in their eyes. But that’s because I didn’t know that what I wrote was going to be in The Zombie Feed: Volume 1, a new anthology from Jason Sizemore.
And now I get to march in the grand parade of self-promotion for yet another reason. I now won’t just be hassling you to come to shows, or watch TV at a certain time in morning, or listen to podcasts, but to actually buy books.
Like the e-book version which you can get if you can’t wait for the book itself to be published. Yes, within seconds of reading this your e-reader of choice could be throbbing with 17 new short stories about zombies. One of which will be by me. And, if you get it from Amazon, it’s £2.14 for your Kindle (or Kindle-enabled device. Your kinda Kindle). That’s not even the price of a soft drink in most London hostelries.
And I’ll get royalties! Perhaps. I haven’t checked the contract for e-book sales. But I might. And that’s something.
So this year I can tick off Radio 4 and books. Pretty much all that’s left now is comics. And films. And grownup TV. And the West End. And a musical. And… oh poo.
Buy! Buy! Buy! And then buy a ticket to my show in Brighton!
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This post was originally a guest post on The Zombie Feed, written to promote the anthology The Zombie Feed: Volume 1 in which my zombie story ‘Cold Comfort’ appears.
In the dead of night, when all that’s out the window are moon-weevils and shadow-bats, you can sometimes hear bodies being disinterred. There’s the scrape of metal against coffin-wood, the sigh of entombed air escaping from forgotten sarcophagi, and the tapping of fingers against keyboards.
All across the world, writers are sitting and wrenching new ideas, new stories out of their brains. Often they find themselves in the process of plundering the graves of long-dead authors, trying on their shrouds, playing new games with their characters, their themes, their stories. Part of coming up with new things is robbing the tombs of the dead, and cackling whilst you do so.
In my case, for the story in The Zombie Feed, I plundered Mikhail Bulgakov. The Master And Margarita.
Bulgakov wrote his great magic-realist novel about the Devil’s visit to Moscow at the height of Stalin’s Great Terror. A respected member of the Moscow literary establishment (and one who received personal telephone calls from Stalin) Bulgakov wrote a number of drafts in secret; if its existence has become known, it would have meant internal exile if not death.
The book is both a fantastic romp, and a satirical piece, with Satan running rings around the petty bureaucrats and functionaries of Soviet Moscow. At the time I’d also just read Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago and Orlando Figes’ brilliant assessment of how private life was eroded in Soviet Russia: The Whisperers.
Totalitarianism was preying on my mind, and the ways it intentionally dehumanises people. In order for a government to dominate its citizenry so completely it must ensure that they cannot trust each other. A culture of informing, corrupt bureaucracy, and a people in permanent need of basics like a warm coat, or an extra room, all of these served to make the real tragedy of Stalin’s Russia a population that could not trust itself.
Not friendship, not kinship, no tie was secure from the intrusion of the state. No one might not be turned against you. You couldn’t ever just relax and blow smoke. Not entirely comfortably.
So, zombies, then. They’ve been used a lot to satirise capitalism, mindless consumerism, the ease with which we are swayed by demagogues, and I thought I’d drop them into Soviet Russia, to see how they swam. To see how they did, you’ll have to read the story…
But it almost seemed too perfect. What kind of story is more about loneliness, isolation, the inability to trust those around you, than a zombie story?
My zombies aren’t the typical shambling infected, however, they are spun off from minor characters in Bulgakov’s book, specifically the severed head of a Soviet commissar that refuses to stop trying to order those about it around. Hopefully, it catches some of Bulgakov’s dark humour, throws a few new twists into zombie lore, and is an unsettling and, on occasions, revolting read…
To preorder your copy of The Zombie Feed: Volume 1, click here.
What could possibly go wrong?
Well, famous alumnus. And, in all fairness, he was reasonably famous before we started.
I’ve been teaching Nick Wallis, Breakfast presenter for BBC Surrey, how to do standup comedy, in aid of Comic Relief for the last few weeks. Summaries of bits of our lessons can be found here, here, here, here, & here.
Having exposed himself to the hecklers and monsters of Reigate a couple of Fridays ago, last week Nick had to go and perform for a minute in front of Jo Brand, Jon Culshaw, Hugh Dennis and Emma Freud last week. He had to do actual standup in front of actual standups. You can read all the details, including how Nick felt he was going to be ‘sick on the spot,’ and watch a video of his performance here.
Teaching standup is an odd thing. One week you may be fearing for your students’ safety, the next wiping a tear from your eye as the knob gag that you helped them work up from a weak pun is rapturously received by an audience of… tens, usually.
Still, doing this with Nick has been especially gratifying. Not only has it been heartening to see him take to comedy so easily, but it’s also been a way of raising money for Comic Relief. It’s rare that a a profession so mired in (and fuelled by) cynicism and bitterness gives you an opportunity to do something so utterly wholesome.
What was particularly encouraging was the way in which the judges said that Nick was “most like an actual standup”, “comfortable”, and “so good looking”. I am going to take credit for all of those things…
My notes would be: if you’re going to do an improvised bit, Nick, make sure you’ve got a punchline to end it with, and a way of getting back to the material you’ve prepared. And, stop putting in extra words again, you’re swamping your punchlines with verbiage! But I shall berate you thoroughly for all that next time I see you.
Well done. Next stop: the Komedia on March 17th!
If you’d like the same sort of comedy tuition that Nick Wallis has been receiving, why not drop me an email about one-to-one lessons, or look at the Courses page?
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Last Friday, Sir Ian Bowler was at Quadrofunnier, at which he gave everyone the benefit of his insights on Libya, control orders, the economy, and Genesis.
Yesterday, the details for my show in the Brighton Festival, In The Gloaming, were released to the world. It’s a stage adaptation of our award-winning podcasts, and will be a horror-comedy hoot.
You can’t buy tickets yet, unless you’re a friend of Brighton Fringe, but the details are all here. There’s also a Facebook event page here, where you can sign up, and I’ll keep you posted about when tickets go on sale, and things.
If you’re in the Brighton area in May do come along, I’d love to see you there! Even if you’re not, why not come over especially?
Here’s the review I got for the show from the West Sussex Gazette last year:
“IF YOU like your comedy as dark and bitter as the purest black chocolate then In The Gloaming will be just to your taste… The one-man show at the Arundel Festival, written and performed by the genius that is Nathaniel Tapley, is rich with black humour – but so strong that many maiden aunts, and even some who are a little worldly wise, might find themselves shocked into an early grave. It’s not for the faint-hearted. Death is a recurring theme as Mr Tapley relives some of his finest monthly podcasts which have won a cult following on the internet and beyond. But religion, politics, murder, and perversion of all types have the spotlight shone upon them as Mr Tapley recalls ghosts of the past to narrate their shocking tales. Mr Tapley is an extraordinarily skilled actor and polished writer with a gimlet wit – but unlike many comedians there is nothing reassuringly safe about his material. Michael McIntyre he is not.” The West Sussex Gazette
Here’s a little something I wrote when I was alone and bitter and twisted, too. In 2004. Hope it helps…
There are three different St. Valentines…
Each and every one’s a fucking martyr.
So, as you mouth the platitudes your latest prop against self-sufficiency wants to hear mumbled across the pillow this morning, remember this:
1) Married people get more cancer. Nuns and eunuchs have the lowest rates of cervical and prostate cancer recorded (there are no recorded cases of prostate cancer in eunuchs). These people don’t tend to be married.
2) One of you will die first. And they’ll probably wait until you’re old and incapable to do it. The nurses might change your nappies, and wipe the mashed potato from your chin, but they’re not going to fellate you the way you really like. Constantly.
3) It’s a statistical improbablity that you’re soulmates. There are 7 billion people in the world. If we each get one soulmate, you’re probably not even on the right continent. Chances are, yours is Chinese.
4) You can name ten people more attractive than the one you’re spending today with. And if you can’t, I will. Unless you are David E. Kelley.
5) It’s not going to last. After all, none of the others have.
Happy Valentine’s Day, you lucky, lucky bastards…
Originally published at Pastichio Nuts on February 14, 2004. Everything changes but you…
What could possibly go wrong?
There are certain small moments of indescribable joy when one’s teaching comedy. There’s seeing a quiet child suddenly find a huge voice when you’re playing improvisation games in a school. There’s watching new jokes coming into being. There’s the look of unadulterated horror on a breakfast DJ’s face as he realises that he has agreed, for Comic Relief, to perform an original set at a proper comedy club in front of a proper audience in a few weeks’ time.
That last one’s my new favourite. You can see his mind’s eye roving over each imagined hostile face, and sweating its way through each uncomfortable, silent second. This is going to be fun.
Yes, as those of you who listened to BBC Surrey (104-104.6 on your FM dial) the other morning will know, I’ll be training Nick Wallis, presenter of the breakfast show, in comedy for the next couple of weeks. Then, on March 17th, he’ll be performing a set, in front of a room full of paying punters, at The Komedia in Brighton.
Nick, of course, will be fine. Not only are (in my Treason Show experience) Komedia crowds delightful in the extreme (and VERY forgiving), but the fact that it’s for charity should mean that no one is going to be judging him too harshly. None of that, of course, will stop him visualising a room so quiet that you can hear people’s expectations crumbling.
Especially now that I’ve mentioned it.
The fact that it’s for charity is a double-edged sword, however. If I fail to train Nick well enough, we will actually be making the lives of the less-fortunate much, much worse. I get the feeling that for every gag he does that falls flat, Lenny Henry will personally close a hospital in Somalia. For every weak pun, Billy Connolly will throw sawdust and scorpions into the well of a village in Burkina Faso. Each time Nick fluffs a line, Richard Curtis will punch a child carer.
So we’d better get it right…
I’ll be keeping track of Nick’s progress here over the next few weeks, and he will be blogging about it over there. In the meantime, if you run a comedy night in Surrey, and have a spare five minutes to give to Nick between February 25th and March 17th, drop me a line…
Lookwhat I just found in the archives. Thought I’dblow the dust off in time for Valentine’s Day.
The sound’s not great, and it was made in the long, wet autumn of 2008, but hopefully it truly captures some of the beauty of the day we call Valentine’s…
(Made with the help of the legend that is Mr Bob Pipe)
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I have been dreadful at letting people know what I’ve been up to recently, so here’s something of an update:
1) Dick & Dom’s Funny Business: Many of you will have seen me being Gary the Useless Lion last week (for those who missed it, the iPlayer link is here). I’m recording another episode this week, so there will be more Gary on your screens in the very near future…
2) The News Quiz: This week, I’m writing additional material for The News Quiz. It will be on at 6:30, Friday, BBC Radio 4. It would be delightful if you could listen…
3) Short Story: The table of contents has been announced for the anthology which will contain my first short story to be published in an actual book. Those of you who are aware of my erudite wit, and waspish, allusive prose style will be unsurprised to learn that the book is called: The Zombie Feed Vol. 1 and will be published later this year…
I shall blog about all of these things when I have more strength / booze. Nanight.
Nathaniel Tapley 