Our first book has been spawned into the world, kicking and screaming as it goes. As with any birth, it’s creation was not without complications. Deadlines where missed and lots of swearing and screaming ensued…Mainly on my part as I paced endlessly around my cluttered bedroom which has become the makeshift base of operations for Slam. Cursing myself for being such a lackadaisical prat, I ranted and screamed at anybody that would listen. Normally, I would cry on the usually comical shoulder of our main writer, Ben Cook. But at this point in time I was left alone in the creative wilderness as Ben was swanking around Reading festival, dressed as a pilot swigging from a large bottle of value Gin. A happy bun-bun I was not.
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I am going to introduce myself here with two confessions, firstly I am a geek, secondly I am a rubbish geek. I am the geek equivalent of those aging DJs you meet who own every record ever recorded, yet couldn’t play a single chord if their life depended on it.
Years ago being a geek meant something. Yes you might have been a social outcast, but you had power. The kind of dark Super Villain power only available to those who not only knew what an IP address was, but knew how to obscure it as they dismantled your entire life by emailing your boss/spouse/dog those pictures.
Yet here I am today, in the uniquely modern position of being a geek who doesn’t know what external hard drive I need to buy. Once upon a time a geek wouldn’t even need to buy a hard drive. They would build their own, with an egg cartoon, and then use it to hack into NASAs systems and down a small spacecraft for kicks. I on the other hand sit here staring at the Amazon page wondering what the fuck a terabyte is.