iain pattison

It’s not the length that matters, it’s what you do with it that counts. And Iain Pattison certainly knows what to do with a short story.

The internationally-acclaimed humourist has been entertaining readers on both sides of the Atlantic for more than 15 years with a succession of short stories that have won prize after prize, appeared in magazines and anthologies, and been broadcast on the UK’s most prestigious speech radio station, BBC Radio 4.

If you haven’t read them, or heard them, you’ve been missing out. So here’s your chance to catch up! 

In this debut collection, Iain gives his imagination free rein in 21 of his best short stories – offbeat and satirical tales that range from the droll and wickedly witty to the slapstick and surreal.

Peek between the covers, and you’ll find a woman who believes she’s a pavement, a crazed murderess trying to kill her victim on stage during a Christmas pantomime, and a dystopian pastiche of Willy Wonka in which the showman chocolatier comes up with a deadly solution to drag his factory out of recession.

Then there’s the Preston bus driver who emerges from a coma to find he can speak every language on the planet – quite a journey, from omnibus to omniglot – plus a hideous man who thinks facing a firing squad will make him a babe-magnet, and a nightmare for Geppetto when Pinocchio reaches puberty.

And you’ll discover why the author is known (usually affectionately) as The Man With The Golden Pun.

Disclaimer

I’ve been instructed by my lawyers to point out that Willy Wonka is NOT a mass murderer as suggested in Credit Crunchie. Nor does the fact that he wears a blouse in any way cast doubt upon his sexuality or dress sense.

I’ve also been asked by a Mr W Shakespeare of Stratford Upon Avon to acknowledge that the words “I come to bury Caesar not to praise him” are his own invention and not an historically accurate quote.

All other characters are entirely fictional, so if you do happen to share the name of any of my creations and (a) believe you’re a pavement; (b) have a wooden son with a tumescence problem; or (c) were killed by a firing squad and found it didn’t improve your attractiveness to women after all, it really is entirely coincidental and you’ll just have to live with it. Except in the firing-squad case.

— Iain Pattison