Quintin Jardine's blog

I’m pleased to announce that Somewhere Over the Rainbow, my political folly, is now available on Amazon, in paperback format as well as in Kindle. Soon, it will be available also in audio, physical and download, published by Isis.

Here’s a link.

I know, I think Jeff Besos is  the Anti-Christ, but he’s driving and my young friend Matt works for him.

Some good news about Somewhere Over the Rainbow, my political fantasy, which until now has only been available in ebook form on Amazon and Kobo. Sometime soon it will be available in audio format, physical and download, published by Isis. Once I can find time to finish an edit it will also be available as a paperback on Amazon.

Look out also for downloadable audio versions of the two Oz shorts, Born to be Wild, and The Last Chickenpig.

RIP Gerald Kaufman, MP, and thanks for your kindness as the Scotsman crime fiction reviewer.

Thanks to everyone who has been catching up with the affairs of the not-so-late Oz Blackstone, as outlined in my two short stories, Born to be Wild and The Last Chickenpig.

I had hoped to be publishing another today, but I’m still in full Skinner mode. Coming soon though.

I stopped being a fan of film musicals, if I ever was, around half a century ago. In truth Guys and Dolls was the only one that ever stood out for me. I skipped West Side Story, and found myself hoping that the Von Trapp family didn’t make it to the border.

Therefore when my dear wife asked me to take her to see La La Land my eyes didn’t light up with the anticipation of it.

We went, though. My verdict? Better than just okay, but I don’t anticipate a sequel. 

Why is WonderWoman on the front of the new Royal Bank fiver?

I could spend all morning listening to Ed Sheeran. But I’d better not.

Oh Hell, why not? The new stuff is an Earworm  Festival.

• Why do seats in Edinburgh only come in one size?

Switched on BBC Breakfast, switched it off again. I will not have Steph McGovern forced on me at this time of the morning, or any other time, truth be told.

Last night I finally got round to watching Trainspotting, after all these years. Nice cameo, Irvine.

Yesterday I shared an opinion piece from the Guardian attacking President Trump for signing an order denying US funds to any organisations that support abortion. Note that word: opinion. This morning in my mailbox I found a tirade from someone called Ed . . . that’s all, just Ed . . . instructing me to stop reading the Guardian and start thinking for myself. Mystery man, having thought about it, I can’t decide whether that was more insulting than stupid, or vice versa. Close run thing.

Ed suggests that the time to think about wanting a baby is before you think about having a relationship. While it might inspire a debate about carts before horses, he’s entitled to that view, as is the Guardian columnist to hers. But he also believes that contraception is the only way to prevent unwanted pregnancy. Well, Ed, it’s not; that would be abstinence. It would also be rather difficult for practising Catholics. Where he really consigned himself  to the trash can, though, was in offering in support of his belief . . . a belief to which he is entitled and which I respect . . . a story line from Coronation Street.

They make it up, Ed. Best avoid Holby City, for the good of your health.

Chips give you cancer.

Burnt toast gives you cancer.

My message to the stony-faced humourless count on BBC Breakfast. You go to your church and I’ll go to mine; we’ll all go to heaven together.