Showing results by narrator "Thomas Corfield" in All Categories

When the palace of Arabesque's aide d'camp, a cat named the Tremblees, stumbles upon a translation of an ancient language that reveals the existence of a fabled stone, he vows to find it for reasons of greed and vengeance. With a dead dog stuck to a car bonnet, some burst luggage, a blind bus driver, and an enormous number of olives, it becomes a race for Oscar, his colleague Meesha, and the Tieress of Arabesque to prevent the Tremblees plunging Arabesque back into the Era of Bedlam.

What happens when the worst writer in the world inadvertently decimates the entire publishing industry? This, that's what.

Follow a man barely deserving of the title as he flails through a turgid cesspit of human depravity, only to discover that he’s the one bunging up its U-bend. Wrongly Writing has even more psychiatrists, anaphylaxis, and cringing social ineptitude than the first Wrong Book, and proves that while editors exist for a reason, the author clearly doesn’t.

When assigned to determine the cause of brewing tensions in the exclusive seaside city of Ruen, Oscar Teabag-Dooven discovers that it's on the brink of tearing itself apart. Things become complicated when it appears those responsible are in charge of running the place.

When Oscar stumbles across an arrogant bard named the Dodosette and the beautiful cat Vaasi-Vee, he unearths a plot to plunge the world into darkness. After some begging, a lot of snow and an industrial-sized vat of soup, the three animals argue all the way to the infamous land of Vra to do something about it. They did not, however, anticipate having to fight invisible Rottweilers, smash kitchens to pieces, lick frozen cars or fund taxi drivers' sisters' eye operations.

When the worst writer in history self-publishes his books, the world of literature is decimated overnight. Illiteracy becomes something to aspire to and book burnings become rife. The publishing industry is left hemorrhaging credibility and verges on collapse. But its recovery not a matter of removing said books, or even destroying them, the same must be done to the mind responsible.

"Coleshanger people are pretty bad," said Uncle Edward. "They won't cross water after sunset. And they have to be in bed by midnight, otherwise they think that they'll be turned into baboons and apes. They also worship the flea." Written in 1952, Coleshanger is a humorous, whimsical, and charming recount of English village life in the early part of the last century, a tale waiting 70 years to be heard but still very much the story of us today.

When assigned to determine the cause of brewing tensions in the exclusive seaside city of Ruen, Oscar Teabag-Dooven discovers that it's on the brink of tearing itself apart. Things become complicated when it appears those responsible are in charge of running the place.

The city of Liebe is gone and Oscar presumed dead. With Tabby Miss Cakes adrift in a crumbling realm of myth and memory, she is not sure what’s real anymore—or if anything ever was. When Oscar reappears, inexplicably alive, the two stumble into a bizarrely wholesome world where animals sand horses, kindness is weaponised, and no one seems to notice the sky is falling.

With monstrous, skinless creatures tearing across kingdoms and the sinister Ar’dath-Irr wielding dark magic like its going out of fashion, Oscar is again hailed as the hero that entire planets need. But he’s not interested. He’s tired, jaded and more invested in rhyming couplets than strategic warfare.

Oscar never meant to get tangled in a plot involving forbidden vaults, exploding cafés, and an ex-poet turned reality-warping megalomaniac. But here he is, paws-deep in syllables and sabotage, trying to stop a transformation that could obliterate everything. Joined by Tabby Miss Cakes, an insane librarian who punches everyone in the face, they become the most unlikely duo to save reality.

The villain’s a poet, the weapon is verse, and the whole world’s a stage. The Ar’dath-Irr’s final act is nearly complete—and the applause will be apocalyptic. Oscar Teabag-Dooven, once a Velvet Paw, is all that stands between a fractured universe and total obliteration. But Oscar wanted to be a poet, not a hero, not a destroyer, and certainly not the most loathed animal on the planet. After his avant-garde recital triggers mass death, suspicious reincarnations and catastrophic misunderstandings involving curry, he’s the only one left to blame.

Beyond legend lies a reality so absurd it threatens to invert everything. Oscar Teabag-Dooven, poet by nature, Velvet Paw by necessity, is the only hope for a land on the brink of ignition. Some books brighten the world. This one sets it aflame. In a world where cats and dogs act like people, absurdity reigns supreme. Bedlam threatens to engulf the world—unless Oscar can stop it, which he’s willing to try, provided he has an enormous breakfast first.

When dark magic and deceit collide, the biggest threat also becomes the most ridiculous. Forget what you know about heroes: this one’s earless, accident-prone and remarkably ineffective. In a world where cats and dogs act like people, absurdity reigns supreme. With Sinson Rascalion threatening to plunge society into darkness, Oscar Teabag-Dooven is once again thrown into the fray. After stumbling upon the arrogant bard The Dodosette and the beautiful cat Vaasi-Vee, the unlikely trio argue their way across the world to do something about it.

The city of Liebe is gone and Oscar presumed dead. With Tabby Miss Cakes adrift in a crumbling realm of myth and memory, she's not sure what’s real anymore—or if anything ever was. When Oscar reappears, inexplicably alive, the two stumble into a bizarrely wholesome world where people sand horses, kindness is weaponised and no one seems to notice the sky is falling. That’s because a poet is eating reality.

Oscar Teabag-Dooven, former Velvet Paw of Asquith and occasional poet, is ready to leave the chaos behind. Having faced tendony beasts, collapsing palaces, poetic terrorists, and exploding pastries, he’d much prefer foccussing on the opening night of his theatrical debut. Unfortunately, the world has other ideas.

Oscar Teabag-Dooven, once a Velvet Paw, is all that stands between a fractured universe and total obliteration. But Oscar wanted to be a poet, not a hero, not a destroyer, and certainly not the most loathed animal on the planet. After his avant-garde recital triggers mass death, suspicious reincarnations and catastrophic misunderstandings involving curry, he’s the only one left to blame.