A while back I asked the question of my readers, “Do my Earplug Adventures characters swear too much?” I thought they did, and so, apparently did you. The episode reminded me of the successful British comedian, Frank Skinner, whose live set had a tendency towards the blue, who, some years ago, decided to clean up his act. He feared that the subsequent lack of bad language in his comedy might harm his career. He was pleased to report that it didn’t. Well I hope the same can be said of the re-written Earplug Adventures, because I’ve been through every darned line of all seven tales, and cleaned out all the ‘fuck’, ‘wank’, ‘shit’, ‘bollocks’, and just about all the words that made my little heroes come across as…well…as arse holes. Nice characters they were not. Well now that’s changed, and I’m happy to report that they are now far more charming. The stories haven’t changed one iota: they’re still ribald as heck; but (I believe) they are now much more readable. No, children still can’t be let anywhere near them, but if your taste in humour approaches the cheekily rude, you might now approve, where before you were a little disappointed in good old Tooty.
So the eBbooks are back – with new dialogue and a new (generic) appearance…
Yes, that last one is a new tale. Here’s a snippet from it….
So he grimaced into the morning sun that streamed through a high-level window.
“What a crap god I am.” He grumbled as he bemoaned his situation. “I’ve allowed one transvestite to derail me. I let my privates do my thinking for me. Well no more!”
With that Ballington strode purposefully to a nearby Earplug Transfer Conduit Station and…
…demanded that the two ‘female’ silver mechanical androids, which stood there waiting to travel, become his followers.
“We are sorry,” the androids said in unison, “but we are not programmed to believe in gods. We are afraid that we must refuse your demand, and politely tell you to go flip yourself backwards.”
For a moment Ballington was bereft. All his plans were turning to rat dung before his eyes. He considered returning to Henhouse Island. Then, with its recent success uppermost in its cybernetic mind, the Robot Guide happened by…
“Well how-dee-do,” it said to Ballington cheerfully, “how’s it hanging, bro?”
Ballington was socially out-of-date. The guide’s turn of phrase was new to him.
“Do you refer to my penis?” He inquired gruffly.
The Robot Guide then explained its function within the Museum of Future Technology. Hope blossomed within the barrel-like chest of the huge cork.
“Show me.” He said.
And so Ballington’s plan became rejuvenated. He didn’t have a follower exactly; but at least someone was following someone else, so it was a good start.
©Paul Trevor Nolan