Greetings and a big hello to whoever you are out there in the cybernetic ether. I have been asked by those terribly nice people at Sproutlore to pen a few words to introduce this new new new website thingy. And, as those who know me, know, I know sweet damn all about websites and Emails and dot coms and things of that nature generally. It's not that they scare the beJasus out of me, as some folk would have you believe, it's simply that as an old Luddite, I can't get my head around any of it, and, as I have always hated typewriters (which is why I write in exercise books), keyboards hold no joy for me. But, I'm telling you this. I'll just bet that there's all kinds of interesting stuff on this new web site thingy and just because I can't access any of it, doesn't mean that smart, intelligent, stylish, good-looking, sexy, virile folks such as those who are reading this, can't. If you know what I mean and I'm sure that you do.
So, what is all this about, eh?
Well, almost ten years ago, a fellow by the unlikely name of Pádraig Ó Méalóid, one of the finest fellows I've ever met, suggested that he should start a Robert Rankin fan club. As those who have heard the story will know full well, I didn't take this all too seriously and suggested to him that this was simply a ploy to have me get the next rounds of drinks in. He said that it wasn't, but I did get the drinks in and we did get rather pissed together. Padraig has long since given up the booze and another fine fellow, by the even unlikelier name of James Bacon, assisted by other James's, an Alix, a Lee and an assortment of splendid weirdoes that I am honoured to call my friends, run Sproutlore: The now official Robert Rankin fan club. And what an incredible job they do of it. Boundless enthusiasm and the wish to run the kind of fan club that they'd like to be a member of, rather than something terribly regimented and serious, has led to a series of quite remarkable events.
We started by all getting together in a Brighton pub. There weren't very many of us then and we stood around a lot and didn't really know what we were supposed to be doing. Then, we had the open-topped bus trip around Brentford, which was a real hoot. Then we had the riverboat shuffle from Westminster to Brentford, which was an even bigger hoot. And then the incredible weekend convention, in cahoots with ZZ9, Aliens Stole My Handbag, the best convention I've ever been to, which is saying something, because I've been to some pretty damn good Octocons in the past.
I've met some really smashing people through these events and made a lot of good friends. But I'd like to meet and make more! The membership of Sproutlore keeps growing, because it's a good fun club, like-minded people get together and have fun, and I am reliably informed, they have SEX too. Which is apparently quite popular, I know I like it.
The reason I'm writing all this, is to welcome you to this web page thingy and try to give you some kind of an idea about what it's all about. It's about things like good fun events, which if you've never attended, then you really should and if you have attended, then you don't need me to tell you just how good they were, because you know for yourself.
It's about things like The Brentford Mercury, which is published quarterly. This little mag is packed with stuff. I preview all my forthcoming books through it and so it's the only place, other from this place, that you can read my work before it's published. And as the folks at Sproutlore are always up to something, you'll find out just what that something is by subscribing to the Brentford Mercury. And you can get your own stuff published in it too. And you can buy all manner of wonderful things. And you just know that T-shirts are included in this. Because, let's face it, without T shirts, there would be no science fiction, for all science fiction fans would have to walk around naked above the waist. Which might, or might not be a good thing. Actually, it probably would be quite a good thing. No, hang about, I was at Aliens Stole My Handbag and watched James Bacon and the legendary Tobes having their nipples pierced (which is not the kind of thing you see at your regular everyday Science Fiction con, now is it?) So, let's stick with the T shirts, Sproutlore sell some real blinders and I'm currently designing a limited edition series based on the sculpture I do for my book covers. Something really chic and stylish and collectable there, and only available through Sproutlore, the fan club that cares.
I'm writing here, on a keyboard in front of a screen because if you're not a member of Sproutlore, then I personally would like you to be. If we could get a really really big fan club together, say ten or twenty thousand, then I don't see why we couldn't form a private army and possibly seize control of the state. I'm not saying that I have any personal ambitions to be a military dictator. Well, naturally I do, but then again, who doesn't? And I'm not suggesting that you should join Sproutlore simply because it might provide the means to overthrow the system and get a Science Fiction channel on terrestrial TV. Amongst many other things that you've always dreamed about. I'm not making any promises, or anything, but if we do overthrow the state, I will give every member of Sproutlore a knighthood, a cheque for one million pounds and anything else they'd care to mention, really.
And you can't say fairer than that, can you?
I mean, name me one other author who is prepared to make you that kind of an offer.
You can't.
Can you?
So come on, let's all be rich and titled, join Sproutlore today.
Tomorrow belongs to us.
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