Gentle and slightly surreal British throwback humour.
Set in an imaginary backwater village, Dandruff dips delightfully into the intricacies and miniscule absurdities of everyday life. Author John Mayfield's world blends originality with an amalgamation of Dylan Thomas, P. G. Wodehouse, G. K. Chesterton and Alan Bennett, and can accurately be described as 'kite flying for the imagination'.
Excerpt
Cantankerous spinster and ex-postmistress Edith Moseley strangles her third tea bag of the morning, settles a one-sided argument with the fridge door, and introduces a thimble of semi-skimmed to her rusting concoction.
Two sweeteners are callously evicted from their capsular home before plummeting to the murky depths.
Prudently, they are stirred, as though in a cauldron.
Her redundant teaspoon is discarded, hits the gaping basin, ricochets as if it were about to emit shrapnel, and takes refuge by the butter knife.
The quivering hands of the wall clock cower and creep towards 7.00AM.
Escapees of sand audaciously trickle through a mummified egg timer; the device appearing to freeze and hold its breath for fear of reprimand.
A fragrant stratum of talcum powder and aniseed balls compete for pole position in Edith’s slipstream as she effortlessly sashays her way towards the porch door and sacrosanct patio.
A solitary starling concludes preening itself on a branch of an unloved plum tree and is about to bask and chirrup in thin, early morning sunlight.
Uneasily observing Edith devouring tannins and disentangling hairgrips, the creature whistles a single, off-key expletive, gathers its belongings, and scarpers to a nearby rooftop.
Two snails conspire to put a spurt on as they catch sight of lilac carpet slippers and scarlet ankle socks that, from a mollusc’s precarious perspective, may as well be a giant in jackboots.
Miss Moseley inwardly declares war on humanity and wildlife for another morning, casts the dregs of her teacup towards the evergreens; then returns to her kitchen table to begrudgingly finalize the compilation of an altogether familiar shopping inventory.
Professional Reviews
Dandruff Hits The Turtleneck
Six stars are insufficient; at least ten out of six. You have managed the near impossible task of dispatching my teenager induced death wish. I might even offer to take her to the station tomorrow I now feel so cheerful!
I loved the style, I felt as if I were the one tweaking the curtains and poking my nose in the absurd business of Blinky. The author was my partner in crime and just the companion I would have chosen were I to visit Blinky myself.
Choosing names is never easy, it is even harder when they are tongue in cheek. It is easy to overstep the mark and they can become forced and uncomfortable. After a while I began to believe that this was quite possibly a real place and somewhere there is a gargoyle of teabag strangler Edith Moseley sneering at the congregation of St Disinfectant.
Backed. You deserve to go far with this one.
Gillian
Dandruff Hits The Turtleneck
This is an hilarious book! Reading in turns, our family has been shouting with laughter page after page! Your turn of phrase is superb and descriptions of atmosphere, people and situations excellent. A most enjoyable afternoon here spent immersed in your book. I chose it originally, would you believe, because of the absurd title. I'm so glad I did!
Dandruff Hits The Turtleneck
I have been reading and laughing all lunchtime. Absolutely brilliant!!!! Just my cup of tea. I love this sort of humour. Why aren't you a published writer? Why isn't this a TV Series on Sunday evenings? Surely the BBC would love this.
Poor Vincent the Corgi. I laughed so much when I read that. Everyone here in the office gave me a strange stare as they munched their cheese and pickle. You story is Very PG Wodehouse (I'm a massive fan) and it reminds me of The Mulliner tales. I don't know if you've read any of those, but if you haven't, please do, you'll adore them the way that I do. You have a wonderful narrators voice. This should be a TV Series and best seller! This is long forgotten England, the way we wished life was, but probably never was.
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