An Synergy of bastards

I did think I was going to have to make a word up, but looking at the dictionary definition of synergy (that famous Management Wank Word) I think it'll do pretty well.

Synergy (noun)

Fits perfectly, as anyone who’s had a bad back and a cold at the same time will tell you. Not only do you get all the mucusy goodness of the sniffles, you also get all the kidney-punching, teeth-gritting, tear-invoking pain of the sneezes as every muscle in your buggered back goes AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAArgh!

Fun on toast that is.

I blame the editarama of the last few days (though it’s probably got more to do with my trip to the London torture chambers – or the ‘Kings Cross Travel Lodge’ to give it its proper title). But all that is behind me now. Dying Light is away to the printers. I’m freeeee! Hahahahahahahaaaaa... ahem.

Now I must away and have at the mountain of Short Stories I want to get finished by the end of the year. Which now includes an extra one for a Dutch Anthology – ‘something dark and Scottish’ is the brief. Not my normal style, but I guess I could do something dark-ish*. At a push...

How does ‘The Ballad Of Manky Milne’ sound?

* At one point, the Syncopated Badger of Sunny Dundee was going to tell me if I was ‘noir’ or not, but he never got round to it, so I’m going to have to assume that I’m the murder equivalent of chick lit (only with mouldering corpses).