Funny Of The Week/Amusing Pub Signs Part Seven

If you’ve missed any of the signs in my latest Funny of The Week series, here they are for you: the first, second, third , fourth, fifth and sixth. Here’s number seven:



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Markets For Writers

Calling all bloggers! Four years ago, the first Bloggers Bash meeting was held in London. And what a great event it was. This year, it’s taking place on May 19th and to celebrate its fourth year, there’s a special writing competition. Here are some details for you:

Theme: Royalty

Word count: up to 300 words


1st prize: £100 Amazon gift card and a winner’s trophy

2nd prize: £30 Amazon gift card

3rd prize: £15 Amazon gift card 

Entry fee: £5 per story or £8 for two

Closing date: Thursday 1st March 2018

Entries are accepted from all over the world and you don’t have to attend the Bloggers Bash to enter.

To find out more details and to enter, visit the competition page.


dream 1




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The A-Z Of Writing Ideas – J Is For…

It’s time for the tenth instalment in my weekly writing series. Each week, I give you an idea – whether it’s a magazine to write for, a theme for a short story and/or poem, an idea for an article…Here are the first , second , third , fourth , fifth , sixth , seventh, eighth and ninth instalments in the series.

This week, it’s  the letter J‘s turn. And J is for JOKES.

We all like a laugh and a joke, but did you know that some magazines pay for your jokes? Here are some magazines that do:

Reader’s Digest – UK

That’s Life! – UK

The Saturday Evening Post – US

The Funny Times – US


smile 2

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Guest Writer Spot

This week’s Guest Writer is Gopika N, a talented young poet who has appeared in this slot a number of times. Here is her latest stunning poem:




I am bidding a farewell,

Waving my palms and

Not letting the sluggish sting

Deluge from my mirrors.

Mirrors, that hold a

thousand reflections of my soul.

As I am spending my last

Few moments with you,

I am constantly hit by the

Songs of pain that

We sang in melancholy;

Prayers we made, for not

Parting, so fragile were those.

Your love were my words,

And you, the poetry.

Your love were my roads,

And you, my destination.

The pain that fills me,

My heart, it’s growing

To my veins and spine;

To my veins which bore

Glittery dreams, they are shattered,

They are burnt.

Oh! My tongue did taste

The bitterness of your departure,

The twinge has filled my

Gut and my intestines.

“Dear soul, you were mighty,

But now you are gone.”

And hence my soul did

Dissolve into the world

Of utter silence, it’s aphotic.



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I Challenge You To…

After a big break from my challenges, they’ve slowly started to creep in again.This week I challenge you to write a limerick. Here’s a silly one from me:


There was a pop star called Gail,

Who received lots of fan mail,

One day she was sent a snake

Wrapped up in a slice of cake,

Alas, it made her quite pale.


Last week’s challenge was to write a ghost story/poem. Here are a couple you sent in:

Steve Walsky posted his ghost story Freeeeky Night on Simplicity Lane:

Sue Vincent posted a chilling piece of flash fiction:

Martin Strike says he doesn’t usually write poetry but had a bash at it for the challenge. Well, I’m impressed!

The Lady of the Tower
I haunt the charming gardens
Of this manor house centuries old
But before my broken heart hardens
My dying story must be told

It’s been the Fortescue family pile
For sixteen generations
A house of riches and great style
Now my ghostly incantations

I worked my life for every pound
I was no landed gent, I fear.
I ran a window cleaning round
Using my poor Dad’s old gear

Lord Fortescue was a tough to please
He slaved me every hour
He brought his servants to their knees
Kept his wife locked in a tower
With Lady Fortescue hidden up high
Her face was rarely seen.
Except by flying birds and I
When I scrubbed the windows clean
I’d fancied her, she was so fine
She’d a thing for me, I reckon
I’d climb and make her windows shine
While she’d lay back nude, and beckon

This went on week after week
And with buckets full of water
I’d climb up high to have my peek
At things I shouldn’t ought’a

One day and I could wait no more
I climbed in to her room
I spilled my bucket on the floor
That was to spell my doom

For as we clutched in fierce amour
A desire we’d shared for ever
Her husband burst in through the door,
I dropped my shammy leather

He saw the wet patch by the bed
His wife all in a fluster
He threw a chair aimed at my head
With all strength he could muster

Seconds later I had fled
He really could not be madder
It wasn’t the chair that felled me dead
But the woodworm in the ladder

A year on from my fatal crisis
No tears the Lady sheds
And now my dead body fertilises
His Lordship’s best rose beds





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Markets For Writers

Enjoy writing short fiction? Then why not give the Writing Magazine 750-word short story competition a go? Here are some details for you:


1st prize: £200 plus publication in the magazine

2nd prize: £50 plus publication on the website

Entry fee: £5, £3 for subscribers

Closing date: 15th April 2018

Word count: up to 750 words

To find out more, visit the competition page.



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Funny Of The Week/Amusing Pub Signs Part Six

If you’ve missed any of the signs in my latest Funny of The Week series, here they are for you: the first, second, third , fourth and fifth. Here’s number six…

No win no fee

Photo credit:




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