Come sit on me...

That's one good thing about being a tad on the podgy side: I'm very soft and squishy to sit on. Yeah, make yourself comfortable, Baby, I want you to be relaxed when I do my thang...


By which strange and dubiously erotic meanderings you're supposed to be able to tell that I'm going to be a chair. Not just any chair, but a comfy chair. That's right, in 2010 I'm going to be the comfy chair of The Theakstons Old Peculier Crime Writing Festival. For four whole days at the end of July I'll be desperately trying not to cock up the biggest crime writing festival in the whole damn world*. I'm planning on at least a couple of ulcers in the process, and possibly a spell in the Betty Ford clinic, or whatever the Aberdonian equivalent is**.

Now there are upsides to this -- I get to pick who I want to be on panels and stuff (well, after the due and democratic process of mud wrestling with rest of the programming committee has taken place) Which is kinda cool, don't you think?

I like to think of myself, in my capacity as comfy chair, as a beneficent dictator, and so, to maintain the impression that I've not actually annexed, invaded, or 'settled' anyone or thing I shouldn't have***, I'm going to throw the floor open to suggestions. Hell, as I'm in generous mood, I'll also throw two windows open**** and the bathroom door. Can't say fairer than that, can I?

So roll up, roll up: tell me who you'd like to see special guesting, or panelling at Harrogate 2010.

Stuart now sits back in his seat and waits for the inevitable stampede of silence and tumble weed...

* Note: I said it was the biggest FESTIVAL in the world -- conventions are completely different beasts.
** Probably a shed at the bottom of someone called Sandy's garden, where you have to wear a haddock-skin loincloth and battle velociraptor-sized seagulls for really good fish and chips three times a day. That's the kind of thing that builds character you know. Yes, you may loose a few appendages, but ... er ... Hmm, 'loincloth' + 'lost appendages'... Eek! OK, so maybe it's not such a good idea after all.
*** Just in case anyone from the UN Security Council is reading this and feeling all rowdy and frisky.
**** Not for long though, as it's sodding freezing up here in the North East of Scotland. She Who Must Be Taken Out and Shown Exotic Things and I went to the international Market on Sunday in an attempt to purchase various unusual comestibles, and it was so cold you could see our breath as we exhaled into the frosty air. Which is OK if you haven't got a beard. If you do have a beard it acts as a condenser, and you end up with your top lip all covered with hairy dew, so you look like you've got a runny nose and can't be arsed blowing it. Not the best of looks, I think you'll agree. No one in the history of sane people ever looked at someone else and said, "God, your bogies look sexy tonight!"

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