TIME flies when you are having fun, so the old saying goes – and it is true. Take, for example, the occasion when a particularly amorous lady and I found ourselves so engrossed in a bout of lustful, energetic intercourse that neither of us noticed my posterior ramming into the bed-side cabinet with such vigour that it sent an alarm clock soaring through the air and out of the window. Time did indeed fly that day, and we would have both been quite unaware of this had the clock not chosen to fly into the face of a passing matron. Suffice to say, I was not invited back to that hospital again, and the nurse with which I was entwined was suspended from her duties. Ah, precious memories! 

And to think, it has now been a decade since I took quill to hand and began sharing such memories with you, my adoring general public. Since that fateful day, the course of literature would be changed forever more; Mr. Charles Dickens ceased work on his novel Edwin Drood fearing (quite rightly) that it would not measure up to my astonishing adventures, revealing himself as the half-witted charlatan he truly was, while elsewhere Sir. Arthur Conan Doyle killed off his most famous creation, Sherlock Holmes, after having to accede that the so-called ‘Great Detective’ was nothing more than a cheap, less dashing facsimile of my glorious self, and his adventures mere parodies of my own extraordinary exploits. Ten years on, and hardly anyone remembers this ‘Sherlock Holmes’ character, while Lord Likely remains on the lips of every man and woman throughout the land. Sometimes, quite literally.

Thus, my Astonishing Adventures have easily secured their place in the pantheon of literary greats, alongside Chaucer, Shakespeare and whoever it is who pens the delightful strip-cartoon about the comical drunken vagabond which graces the pages of the London Illustrated News-Sheet. And this success, this astounding legacy is all thanks to you, my loyal readers. Well, more accurately it is clearly thanks to me, for I have done all the hard work in having said adventures and then chronicling them, after all. I do not believe that a single one of you has offered to help me out in transcribing my tales, or deigned to come along and empty my bins while I lock myself away and craft, craft, craft. Not a jot of it. Lazy, that is your trouble. Sheer bloody laziness.

Where was I? Oh yes, thanking you, the reader. Thank you, dear reader!

While literary immortality is already ensured for me, I do not intend to stop there and rest upon my laurels. For one thing, I do not wish to crumple my laurels. Have you ever had crumpled laurels? A terrible thing it is, for a man to have crumpled laurels. Thus, while we stop to reflect on a damnably thrilling decade already passed, we must also find ourselves moist and throbbing with anticipation at the future that lies ahead – and what a future it is! There shall be revelries abound for sure, but perhaps the most exciting of all shall be the publication of my brand-new adventure – The Bellending Club. If you thought that the adventures I have shared so far were sphincter-loosening in their astonishment, then…well, you would be quite correct. That is the correct observation. But the adventures to come shall literally blast your colons inside-out with astonishment. LITERALLY, so brace yourselves, and your trousers.

So! Let us celebrate that which I have done then, but also that which I have yet to do but will do, and then we shall celebrate that which will have been done alongside that which I had already previously done. There shall be a lot of celebrating, simply put.

In summary: HUZZAH FOR ME!

Toodle-pip!

Lord Likely.

Keep in touch with his lordship for further news about his tenth anniversary celebrations – including the forthcoming release of his new tome – by following him on the Book of Faces, or via the Twittering Device. One might also sign up for his noble newsletter, to be kept fully abreast of his doings, and for the chance to win prizes and obtain FREE things.

This magnificent, undergarment-dampening image is the cover for my forthcoming electronic book, ‘The Bellending Club’, finally due to be issued forth NEXT MONTH (i.e in June).

It has been an admittedly long road to this very point, with ideas scrapped, titles changed, and so much whisky consumed that I lost three months to a drunken stupor. But finally, my debut novel is nearing completion, ready to be thrust into your quivering, shaking hands in a mere matter of WEEKS. Gods be praised! Double whiskies all round!

But what is this mysterious Bellending Club? Who is the unfortunate fellow lying in a pool of his own claret? And what have I to do with all of this unpleasantness? All we be revealed in due course, my dear readers, with plenty more teasing to be done in the upcoming days, like the foreplay to a particularly satisfying bout of intercourse.

Do feel free to subscribe to my magnificent mailing list to be informed of further developments first, and of course join me ‘pon the Facebook and Twitter as well – you shall not want to miss a thing, lest you be cast out by your peers.

Until the next time,

Toddle-pip!

– Lord Likely.

I AM something of an avid card player, and may often be found in a local tavern indulging in a few hands of either poker or Blackjack, or perhaps one of the less well-known games such as ‘Seven-Card Scrote’, ‘Twat the Joker’ or ‘Queen on Top.’ Perhaps my favourite game, however, is ‘Flinging a Gin in Your Opponent’s Face and Scarpering Before You Lose Yet Another Grand.’ Ah, cards. The game of kings!

So it was something of a delight to discover that my own handsome visage features in a brand-new card game, even if it does mean that I must share a deck with that incorrigible cur, Professor Elemental.

Yes, despite our differences, the Professor has seen fit to include me in the deck for his edition of the game ‘Pairs’ (probably because he does at least have the sense to see that my addition will help sales of this game to soar), produced by Hip Pocket Games and which is available to purchase hither.

However, being the benevolent sort that I am, I have decided to offer my damnably fabulous readers the opportunity to win one of THREE packs of said cards. I know, I know. I AM staggeringly generous.

To be in with a chance of winning a pack, simply answer this question:

I have in my hand a deck of ordinary playing cards. They are shuffled, and I draw one card out of the pack. My question is this: which card is it?

Simply write your guess (serious or silly) in the comments below, or send me an electronic mail (with ‘Is This Your Card?’ in the subject header). Alternatively, send me a tweet with the hashtag #isthisyourcard, or enter via The Book of Many Faces. Three lucky, lucky winners will be selected on November the 1st. No cash alternatives offered, so do not ask, you scrounging beggars. Winners will be selected based on either guessing the card correctly, or in the event of no-one getting it spot on, the closest or most humorous guesses shall triumph. His lordship’s decision is FINAL, and anyone wishing to dispute it may speak with my Thundercock, my pet lion.

Good luck!

– Lord Likely.

AS REGULAR readers of these journals will be aware, I am deep in the midst of writing my first ever novel, due for release in the coming months. As anticipation mounts, I thought I would spare some of my precious time to help YOUR literary ambitions, by revealing some useful tips I have learnt over the course of writing this book. My benevolence knows no bounds! 

Here then, is my invaluable and incomparable writing advice. Quills at the ready, ladies and gentle-men!

1. Master the basics.

 My first writing tip would be to make sure that you are writing with the TIP of your writing implement. I can still recall, with considerable pain, the time when I composed an epic fantasy trilogy, comprising three, 900-word tomes, only to find that I had been using the wrong end of my quill throughout the entire enterprise. I had to restart the process from scratch, this time with actual ink on paper, but gave up after the first paragraph as I was so ruddy dispirited by the whole affair at that point. I cannot stress this enough: USE THE RIGHT END.

2. Write it yourself, you lazy cur.

Some lazy, less-talented individuals may decide to take a back seat and employ a ghost-writer to pen their book. This is a false economy indeed, for a ghost-writer cannot hold any sort of writing implement without it passing straight through their hand, so are utterly, utterly useless. In addition, they spend most of their time wailing and moaning and clanking chains, which I get quite enough of from my servants, thank you very much. No, nothing beats your own authentic voice, and furthermore you would not end up wasting so much of your time cleaning ectoplasm off of all your surfaces.

3.  Grab your readers by the balls – the eyeballs, that is – AND NEVER LET THEM GO. 

You have very little time in which to grab your reader’s attention and to keep it. Your readers are busy people, with things to do and other opening paragraphs to read. You need to make an impact, and make an impact FAST, like a rotund gentle-man plummeting off of a diving board. Make the very first word of the book something eye-catching, like ‘KABOOM!’ ‘POW!’ or ‘BREASTS!’ Hook the reader in, then batter them into submission against the tree-stump of your writing. Throw them, blinking and disoriented, straight into the action, as I have done, as demonstrated by this chapter heading from my own forthcoming tome:

Perfect. Absolutely ruddy perfect.

4. Character is key. 

Your characters are everything. Without sufficiently interesting and complex characters, you may as well simply deposit your manuscript beside the toilet, and leave it for others to wipe their filthy backsides on, as that would be the only use it would have to offer. Of course, in my case I am drawing from my own life experiences, and I am a most interesting and complex character indeed, not to mention devilishly handsome, strong, well-endowed and ridiculously attractive. The rest of you can try to make a character as immediately appealing as I (ha! Good luck!) but if all else fails, simply go through your manuscript and replace your main protagonist’s name with the words ‘Lord Likely’ instead. Guaranteed success awaits!

5. Keep your writing fresh.

You may spend hours, days maybe even a few weeks writing your magnum opus, but how do you prevent your writing getting stale as time marches on and your attention span wavers? If you get bored of your work, you can bet every farthing you have that your readers will get bored too, and may well slip into a coma. A coma that YOU caused by your tedious scribblings! To prevent that idea from playing on your conscience, be sure to keep plenty of alcohol on stand-by. I find that I am constantly surprised and thrilled by my own writing if I propel myself into a state of blind, roaring drunkenness as I write. I never know what may flow forth from my sozzled brain, and it is always a delight to return to a manuscript-in-progress the next morning with no recollection of what I wrote the night before. Needless to say, it is ALWAYS astounding.

6. Editing is for the weak.

This may be something approaching heresy among writing circles, but I firmly believe that editing is completely superfluous to requirements, a giant literary con perpetuated by editors over the years to give them something to do. As far as I’m concerned, if you cannot get your story perfect on the first go, then you have no business being in writing and may as well jab the pen right in your eye and slit your own throat with the side of a sheet of paper. If you so much as embark upon a second draft, then you are effectively saying that you are a weak, pathetic creature who cannot write for toffee. A builder does not get to go back, pull some bricks out of his newly-constructed house, and replace them with new ones. A soldier cannot run into a battlefield, and then ask for a second try afterwards as there were some things they felt they could improve upon. You get one shot at everything in life, and writing, I feel, should be no different. As the old adage goes: “If at first you don’t succeed, give up, you terrible, terrible failure.”

7. Ignore writing guides.

There are a lot of other writers who spend their time trying to tell you how to write, and I can guarantee that each and every one of them will be espousing nothing more than complete and utter arse-water. None of them REALLY know what they are doing, for they are all far too drunk to have any firm grasp of what is going on. Some of them may have attained some sort of triumph and think they now know all the answers, but they do NOT. They simply got lucky, and stumbled into success like a drunkard tumbling into a hedge, and in both cases, they’ve ended up somewhere, but have no recollection of how exactly they got there. If writers truly knew what worked, they would have bottled it and used it to guarantee that every single book they write is a smash-hit success and spent their hours swimming about in a vat of gold coins rather than helping the likes of you, you ignorant pauper.

No-one knows what they are doing, no-one has the answers, no-one is your mentor. Except for me, naturally. And now that I have spoken, go forth and do as I do, and I can GUARANTEE* that you shall be writing the next best-seller.

Toodle-pip!

– Lord Likely.

*guarantee not guaranteed.

Lord Likely’s first novel will be available soon. To keep up-to-date with the latest developments, please sign up to his news-letter right now. Or not, but then it would be your loss, to be honest.

As a well-respected, much admir’d and hugely desired member of the English Aristocracy, I have been oft-interviewed by newspaper reporters and the like. It was during one such interview, conducted by an agreeable gent from The London Illustrated Picture-Print News, that I let slip that I had been keeping a diary, a diary which I had not only kept, but written in as well. Within its pages I had kept careful record of each and every one of my astonishing adventures, replete (in some instances) with saucy etchings. This incredible revelation was reprinted in the newspaper article itself, which in turn sparked a furious bidding war between the many publishing houses of Great Britain, all of whom wished to get their hands upon my journals and transform them into the Greatest Books Ever Printed.

It began with three publishing houses: Poppycock Press, Chaffinch Books and Fibber&Fibber, all of whom put in terribly good offers for the rights to my desirable diaries. Then each tried to outbid the other, driving the price ever skyward.

This was, of course, good news for me, but alas it was not so good for the publishers, each of whom now stood the chance of bleeding their companies dry in the pursuit of my excellence. Eventually, the heads of Poppycock Press and Fibber&Fibber, (Mr. Jasper Poppycock and Mr. Farnaby Fibber, respectively), held a secret meeting in a tavern, whereby they decided to join forces in a bid to spread the financial burden of acquiring my work, and to muscle Chaffinch Books out of the running.

However, word got back to Mr. Gill Sans, the head of Chaffinch Books, who was, naturally, rather incensed about this clandestine deal. So incensed was he, that he hired an assassin to take out the two men involved. The assassin, who specialised in deeply ironic deaths, dispatched Mr. Fibber by stabbing him in the eye with a quill, the very quill Mr. Fibber had just used to sign a contract for the publication of an anthology  of true crime stories.

The assassin never got the chance to eliminate Mr. Poppycock, however, for Scotland Yard caught up with him shortly thereafter, and found him in possession of a business-card from Mr. Sans, along with a signed proof of a forthcoming novel to be published by Chaffinch Books, and a lithograph of the two men together, toasting their deal.

Needless to say, when word got out of Mr. Sans’ indiscretion, all ruddy hell broke out. Mr. Poppycock again joined forces with Fibber&Fibber, allying with the sole remaining Fibber, a Mr. Flaubert Fibber. They hired their own armed mercenaries to storm the offices of Chaffinch Books and to execute its president. However, Mr. Chaffinch had got wind of their scheme, and sent his own armed mercenaries out to take care of Messers. Poppycock and Fibber.

What actually transpired was that fighting broke out across the heart of London’s literary scene in Paternoster Row, when the two forces collided. Bloody, violent clashes took place, with soldiers falling left, right and centre. Overseeing the carnage from their plush offices, the heads of the respective forces began sending in reinforcements made up of their own employees, office workers poorly equipped to deal with life on the battlefields.

The Great Bidding War, as it was later dubbed, lasted for three long days, during which some two hundred and seventy mercenaries lost their lives, along with thirty-two proof-readers, sixteen editors, five cover designers and one publisher (Mr. Poppycock perished leading his forces into battle on horseback on the second day). Many trendy coffee bars were destroyed in the carnage, along with a couple of ale houses and a milliner’s shop.

Mr. Sans was eventually captured by a small team of soldiers and a shirtless Mr. Flaubert Fibber, who decided to finally get rid of his business rival by hurling him into his own printing presses. “Well, he had always wanted to be in books,” Mr. Fibber is rumoured to have quipped at the time, possibly while lighting a cigar.

The worst thing about  this whole, sorry affair is that the devastation left in the wake of The Great Bidding War was so huge, the publishing houses involved all fell into bankruptcy trying to pay for it all, so I never did get my publishing deal. Tsk! War, eh? What is it good for? Absolutely bloody nothing.

Still, I am never one to allow the massacre of hundreds get in the way of publishing my memoirs, and so have taken matters into my own hands! Expect to see my own electronic book hit the electronic shelves very soon! In the meantime, be sure to keep yourselves abreast of the situation by subscribing to my magnificent mailing list! HUZZAH and indeed, HURRAH!

– Lord Likely.

Soon, you shall be able to submit yourselves to me, dear readers, for my debut electronic book is drawing ‘e’er nearer, readying itself to spank your eyeballs and clamp itself to your brain. 

Be prepared…for Likely is coming!

– Lord Likely.

AS regular readers will know, I have had something of a long-running feud with that sickeningly smug sleuth, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Even writing that cove’s name is enough to make me want to vomit all over my hands.

Well, happily today I can say that I have well and truly got one over on him, by sneaking my noble self into a story all about him! HA!

The tale in question is entitled ‘The Facebook of Sherlock Holmes,’ and is the work of my no-good scribe, Mr. A.D Fanton, esquire. This comic-strip adventure for Mr. Holmes appears in the latest issue of the adult comic (surely an oxymoron), ‘Viz’, which goes on sale in shops to-day.

Unbeknownst to Mr. Holmes, however, I could not let him have all the glory in this latest escapade, so ensured (through a mixture of violent lashes and verbal abuse directed at Mr. Fanton) that I too would appear in the story. And behold, all my efforts were not in vain, for there I am, in all my glory:

Ha-HA! I’d wager that the so-called ‘Great Detective’ did not see that one coming! Victory is mine!

The above adventure appears in Viz Comic, number 241, which you may purchase from the shops for £3.20, and then you may wave it in the dopey detective’s startled, big-conked face.

‘Twas all rather elementary, in the end…

– Lord Likely.

Of course, primarily there shall be the book itself, a magnum opus that shall alter the course of literature forever more. But there shall also be plenty more besides, including some fascinating features right here, as well as the odd contest or two, with some rather special prizes, to boot.

I should hate for any of you, my dear, loyal readers, to miss a single thing, and to that end I have set up a Magnificent Mailing List to help you stay informed about the latest Likely developments!

Merely fill out the short form below, and I shall instruct my underlings to send out occasional news-letters when there is news afoot! I promise not to send any spam (nor any processed meats of any kind), and I promise not to abuse your electronic mail addresses by using them to send out pictures of my naked tallywhacker.

Well, unless you desire to see that, of course.

So, please do sign away your souls the short form below, and let me into your boxes.

Many thanks in advance,

– Lord Likely.

LAST WEEK I broke the frankly earth-shattering news that I was to be releasing an electronic book of one of my most astonishing adventures very soon. Nations rejoiced, and there was much hugging and heavy-petting in the streets that day.

Whilst you wait for this most important of literary works, I thought I would direct you towards another electronic book featuring my good self, which you can purchase RIGHT THIS INSTANT.

Yes, dear readers, your eyes do not deceive you! For you see, a few years ago my scribe, Mr. A. D Fanton, teamed up with the enigmatic and acronymic author known as MCM. The fruits of their sordid little collaboration was a short tale entitled ‘The Man With The Improbable Leg’, which saw me enter into a partnership with A TALKING DUCK.

I’m not sure if I was heavily drunk at the time and hallucinated the entire episode, but it certainly sounds like it. Behold the book’s synopsis:

“While vacationing in London, Archimedes and Finley the foul-mouthed telekinetic fish find themselves caught up in a strange murder plot that reaches into the upper echelons of social power… including the formidable Lord Likely, who fastens his belt long enough to avenge the death of a favourite lover. But as a greater plot unfolds, Archimedes and Likely find themselves on a collision course… one that may unravel the very social fabric of Great Britain, and let ninjas and bombastic Irish midgets run free!”

See what I mean? Utter insanity.

In any case, this is a fun little curio, and as it features me it is instantly rendered indispensable, especially as it only costs seventy-seven English pence (or one dollar and thirty-three cents if you are one of those former colonials).

It may be purchased via The Amazon (branches everywhere), HERE if you are a resident of the British Isles, or HERE if you are in the New Country.

Feel free to put this duck-based adventure on your bill. BILL! Ah-haha!

Toodle-pip!

– Lord Likely.

If you are wondering where I have been for the past month (and if you have not, I suggest you take a good, hard long look at your life choices), then let me now ease your worried mind and un-knot your brow, as I reveal that I have been busy pulling together the manuscript for my first electronic book!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my new Astonishing Adventure is entitled ‘A Study in Strumpets’ and follows your handsome hero (that being me, of course) as I attempt to track down that most villainous of curs – Jack the Ripper. This thrilling tale will appear in the form of an electronic book, heralding the beginning of a brand-new series of my adventures coming your way very, very soon.

However, just as I am adding some finesse to those final full-stops, news reaches my noble ears that some other blaggard is claiming to have revealed the true identity of the notorious Ripper.

According to to-day’s Daily Mail (I shall not link to that rag, for it hates all forms of joy and pleasure that this life may bring) a gentleman named Mr. Edward Russell has claimed that DNA evidence shows the identity of the Ripper to be a Mr. Aaron Kosminski, a Polish hairdresser.

Of course, it is typical of that particular journal to lay the blame for society’s ills at the feet of an immigrant, but might this latest story also be part of a conspiracy to silence the ACTUAL truth, to be revealed in my own forthcoming publication? Could the all-powerful press be trying to suppress my story to protect others? Could my version of events be far too controversial and contentious for the establishment to handle? Or is the top hat that I am currently wearing on rather too tight?

I shall let you, my dear, faithful and ever so beautiful readers, judge for yourselves when A Study in Strumpets is released. The truth is out there, and soon, it shall be deep inside you too.

– Lord Likely.