Smorgasbord Christmas Party – Guest – Author Geoff Le Pard with The Fourth Plinth

christmas partyWe have certainly seen many sides of the festive season in this series and today is no exception. Geoff Le Pard has a story that will make you think twice about having that second bottle of wine before heading home to the family…. there are things in the night…. well I will let you read for yourself… but be prepared…….

The Fourth Plinth by Geoff Le Pard

The world tumbled and tossed as Barry opened his eyes. It’s what booze does, he thought: beer and it’s a slow churning; vodka takes you on a merry go round; and gin pummels you with the full spin cycle. He tried to identify where he was. Outside, for sure. Somewhere public. Paved if his arse told the truth. Where was Dan? He’d been with Dan, he was sure.

A faint smear of memory made him narrow his eyes: Dan getting in a cab. Why wasn’t he in the cab too? Dan pushing him away; Dan calling him something? Bully? Yeah that’s it. Even mulish Dan had seen his true colours. Well, sod you Dan Parsons and Merry Christmas.
Barry looked up. Trafalgar bloody Square. Of course, that stupid tree. How’d he get here? They’d been in Camden.

Barry used the wall behind him to stand. Odd how dark it was. Apart from the tree all the street lights were out. Maybe that’s what happens on Christmas night. All the revellers run home on last minute Tube trains and they switch off the lights. God, he felt sick, like the ground was rocking. It was rocking!! The wall behind him slid back and the foulest stench imaginable blew in Barry’s face.

Barry spewed and spat the bitter remnants of his evening’s indulgence onto the ground. Looking up he realised it was one of the plinths that had moved, the empty one. From beneath it a woman all in silver was climbing some stairs, the smell came from her.

‘You need a bath, sister,’ he said stepping back.

‘You need me more, Barry Francis.’

Barry rubbed his eyes. ‘You know me?’

‘Oh yes, we all do. Down there.’

Barry followed where she pointed. A sea of the ugliest most disgusting faces writhed at the bottom of a pit bubbling and boiling with some sort of steaming gunk. ‘They ain’t real. Are they? I mean,’ he shook his head, ‘this is a dream, ain’t it? Either that or there’s a boiling pit of mud under central London.’

‘Liquid putrefaction, the residue of destroyed souls. Once the person has been rendered liquid it goes to the next stage.’

Barry peeped again and had a second smaller but even more bitter chunder. ‘Next stage?

After what?’


He goggled at the woman and then burst out laughing. ‘Oh come on. And what does that make you?’

The woman appeared to consider before clicking her fingers. Her head burst into flames, before a second then a third head appeared and did the same. Meanwhile her stomach ripped open and clawing hands and twisting writhing arms shot at Barry grabbing him and hoisting him onto the empty plinth. Barry screamed as every orifice emptied. The woman’s face reappeared, many times the normal size; her voice coated Barry in an intense thunder breaking windows, all round the Square. As the glass rained down she shattered his eardrums with a ‘Your worst nightmare’.

As quickly as she transformed she reverted to her previous form, standing next to a petrified Barry on the windswept plinth.

Barry stared at her calm brown eyes. ‘What do you want?’

By way of a response she swept an arm around the Square. As her pointing finger passed the statues on the other plinths the riders and soldiers came alive and headed towards Barry.

The four lions stood and stretched and made their way to Barry’s new perch. ‘You know ‘A Christmas Carol’?’

‘That Dickens mush? So?’

‘Well you’re getting CC 5.0’

‘Come again?’

‘The Ghosts of Christmas for the 21st century. You can’t do a book anymore and we’ve too many sinners to get round anyway, so this is the short intense version.’

‘Ok. So no three ghosts?’

‘Just me.’

‘No visiting the past, present and future?’

‘A survey monkey, multiple choice.’

Barry nodded. ‘How’d you decide on me?’

‘Public vote. So you want to try the poll or step on down?’

He straightened his shoulders. ‘First question.’

‘Are you (a) a fair and considerate husband, father and employer (b) sometimes a bit offish after a couple of bevvies or (c) a right bastard to your fellow man?’

‘I want to say b but after Dan’s comments tonight, c.’

‘Very perceptive. Who do you care about most (a) yourself (b) your money or…’

‘Hey that’s unfair. How can I choose…?’

‘(c) your children?’

‘No, I don’t want to answer that. Because it’s c but you won’t believe me.’

She lowered her clipboard. ‘What would they say? Or your wife? If they knew you were here, now?’

‘Sod this. I’m going home.’ He sat on the edge of the plinth and looked down. The fiery pit of hell stared back at him. Tears the like of which he’d not shed in decades sizzled as they hit the scalding pools. ‘I love them. I’m doing my best for them. They know that.’

A silky voice filled the Square. It was his daughter. ‘Daddy, I want you not a dress. I don’t care about any stupid dress.’

‘She loved it.’

Another voice joined in. His son. ‘But daddy said he’d be home for my party.’

Barry covered his face. ‘I tried to get back. I really did…’

Barry’s own voice took over, echoing off the National Gallery and startling the animated horse statue to rear up. ‘Yeah come on it’s only a stupid kids’ party. One more for the road. He’ll not notice I’m not there, not once he sees the present. Ungrateful little sod.’

Any last resistance collapsed. Barry wailed, ‘They hate me, there’s nothing left.’

A hand gripped his shoulder. ‘Don’t be a prannock. You know what to do.’

‘Give up the booze.’


‘Go home?’

‘It’ll be a start.’

He shook his head. ‘You told me they don’t want stuff. And they’ll be in bed anyway.’

The woman pointed at the General on his horse, the four lions, the empty plinth. ‘Remind you of anything?’


‘Sort of Post Santa for the internet age, if you like. They’ll take you home, you kids will see you coming, no one will believe you but they’ll love you for it. But if you slip, if you don’t become the husband, father and boss you could be,’ she waved at the pit. The degraded creatures, flesh dripping from their skeletons waved back. It was almost homely in a John Carpenter kind of way.

Barry nodded. ‘I know. I won’t. Thanks erm, what do I call you? Spirit?’

‘Not a clever name for an alcoholic, don’t you think? How about Sharon? I always fancied Sharon. Now I must get on.’

As Sharon stepped off the plinth and hovered over the pit, Barry felt it mould to his back, while the soldiers from the other plinths harnessed the lions and encouraged them forward. He looked up at the sky as the clouds parted and a full moon shone down over London.

And he’d always thought it was just a story.

©GeoffLePard 2016


About Geoff Le Pard

Geoff Le Pard (not Geoffrey, except to his mother) was born in 1956 and is a lawyer who saw the light. He started writing (creatively) in 2006 following a summer school course. Being a course junkie he had spells at Birkbeck College, twice at Arvon and most recently at Sheffield Hallam where he achieved an MA in Creative Writing.

And what did he learn?

That they are great fun, you meet wonderful people but the best lessons come from the unexpected places. He has a line of books waiting to be published but it has taken until now to find the courage to go live.

He blogs at on anything and everything. His aim is for each novel to be in a different style and genre. Most people have been nice about his writing (though when his brother’s dog peed on the manuscript he was editing, he did wonder) but he knows the skill is in seeking and accepting criticism. His career in the law has helped prepare him.

Books by Geoff Le Pard


Find out more and BUY the books:

Connect with Geoff

Google+ :

My thanks to Geoff for scaring me off that extra Bailey’s this evening…. your feedback is always treasured as is the sharing of the post far and wide.  thanks Sally

Men’s Health Week Revisited – Guest Post – Bottling It Up by Geoff Le Pard

men's healthMy thanks to Geoff Le Pard for contributing this post with its important message to Men’s Health Week. My own father was diagnosed with prostate cancer at age 76 but died from the effects of the treatment four years later. That was 20 years ago and both the treatment options and survival rates are now improving dramatically.  Provided the disease is detected early enough.

Please read Geoff’s post and if you are male and over 50 then #GETCHECKED.

Bottling it Up by Geoff Le Pard

My father died on 12th March 2005. He had prostate cancer, as well as secondaries on bones and lungs but it was the prostate that did for him. His last night, in Poole hospital, he could no longer speak. He did however manage a small wave of two fingers when I came into the room after he woke. He was heavily medicated so it could have had nothing to do with my entry, but I like to imagine it was a knowing hello and farewell. I’m romantic like that.

That is hindsight. At the time, with the doctors saying death was imminent I was a mix of naturally sad and bloody furious. With him.


He was 78. Until he was 75 we undertook a weekly walk with a friend along one of Britain’s long distance footpaths, usually 100 miles or so over the 9 days we had; but then it stopped. He seemed fit enough, he just made excuses. He was always fit and active, tramping the four corners of the New Forest where he lived, hunting his beloved bugs. He’d go for miles, lost in his entomological dream world, happily teasing apart the heather or turning over sallow leaves. But even that began to fade.

geoff-and-father-twoHe turned 77 in November 2003. He had a long running cold and when we arrived for his birthday we joked at his new weight loss programme of sneezes. By the New Year the weight loss was no joke anymore and rapid tests had him in hospital. Just after the start of February 2004 he was told he had prostate cancer, bone cancer and an ‘odd’ tumour on his lungs. The doctors weren’t hopeful he had long but medical advances are such they reduced the lung tumour quickly and slowed the prostate. By the June he was fit enough to come with mum and my brother to Cornwall to see the Eden Project.   We wheeled mum, who had recently had a hip op, and dad all over that old quarry. With his irrepressible sense of humour to the fore, he ordered us ‘to charge the heathen’ as we approached a somewhat bemused school party. ‘Faster, boy, faster.’ You knew he was his old self when he stopped using my name and reverted to his favoured appellation for me of ‘boy’.


Behind this short lived jollity I was becoming increasingly angry. I learnt early that neither mum nor dad were in a fit state of mind to absorb all the awful diagnoses imparted by the variety of oncologists they saw so I insisted on coming to every appointment. And gradually I learnt about the problems he had had: difficulty urinating, the recurrent urge to pee, especially at night; discomfort peeing. The ignored back pain and the pain in his arms (from the secondary bone cancer). Some numbness from spinal compression. The signs were there and the signs were ignored.

Later mum would say he was a private man, he was of a stoic generation. What she meant was he disliked being embarrassed and while he may have had a scatological sense of humour he couldn’t discuss his own urinary malfunctions. He couldn’t show weakness.

Of course I recognised that man. His stubbornness took him a long way in life, given several setbacks. His refusal to give into to his fears was often noble. In the world of work, during his time in the forces at the end of WW2 those traits were seen as admirable.

But they also killed him. I have no doubt whatsoever that he had the constitution, absent those controllable cancers to still be alive now. And as I approach 60 I would much rather the old bugger was there, calling me boy and gently mocking my organisational incompetence than remembering a brave stubborn little fighter who in the final analysis forgot one of the most important lessons in a fight and that is you are stronger in a team than on your own.

Get yourself checked. If you are embarrassed about the nature of a prostate examination, and frankly a latexed digit up the anus has never been in my top ten bucket list ambitions, then think, not so much about yourself but all those others who will be left bereft by your selfishness if you don’t.

I loved my father, still do. I still hear him chiding me. And of course I know it wasn’t deliberate and it is me being selfish. But still, I can’t stop thinking how much better it would be to be able to answer him back.


About Geoff Le Pard


Geoff Le Pard (not Geoffrey, except to his mother) was born in 1956 and is a lawyer who saw the light. He started writing (creatively) in 2006 following a summer school course. Being a course junkie he had spells at Birkbeck College, twice at Arvon and most recently at Sheffield Hallam where he achieved an MA in Creative Writing.

And what did he learn?

That they are great fun, you meet wonderful people but the best lessons come from the unexpected places. He has a line of books waiting to be published but it has taken until now to find the courage to go live.

He blogs at on anything and everything. His aim is for each novel to be in a different style and genre. Most people have been nice about his writing (though when his brother’s dog peed on the manuscript he was editing, he did wonder) but he knows the skill is in seeking and accepting criticism. His career in the law has helped prepare him.

Books by Geoff Le Pard


Buy Geoff’s books

Amazon Author page:

Connect with Geoff

Google+ :


Please feel free to comment and share this important message from Geoff with others. You may encourage a man who might have ignored symptoms to get checked. Thanks Sally



The Annual Bloggers Bash Awards – #ABBAs are back and you are invited to vote.


Absolutely thrilled to have been nominated in some categories in this year’s Bloggers Bash Awards and delighted that Smorgasbord Invitation has been placed in the Best Overall Blog category.  I am very grateful to everyone who nominated me and to be in such great company in this award.

best-overallThere are some incredibly talented bloggers in all the categories and I had a really tough time voting for just one in each.  I am sure you will also have the same problem.

Head over and vote for your favourite, Funniest, Best Book Review, Best Dressed, Best Newcomer, Most Inspirational, Hidden Gem, Service to Bloggers, Most Informative Original Content Blogger, Best Pal and Best Overall Blog… Vote at the ABBAs

It is a huge shame that the organisers of the event have excluded themselves from the nominations and therefore the awards

Sacha Black

Ali Isaac

Hugh Roberts

Geoff Le Pard

Whilst you are working your way through the categories here is some music in tribute to the four dedicated followers of fashion blogging. Thanks for the hard work guys.. You are Simply The Best.

Thanks for dropping by and I hope that you will head over and show your support to the work of Sacha, Ali, Hugh and Geoff as well as the bloggers who have kept us all entertained this year.   Sally








New Book Fanfare Revisited- My Father and Other Liars by Geoff Le Pard

New book fanfare

A new book by Geoff Le Pard out on the 14th but available on pre-order. No good deed goes unpunished after Maurice Oldham saves and American scientist…

My Father and Other Liars by Geoff Le Pard

My father and other liars cover POD v2 12 July

About the Book.

When British freelancer Maurice Oldham saves American scientist Lori-Ann Beaumont from a pack of journalists at a ProLife conference in San Francisco, neither expects to see the other again. But six months on, Lori-Ann is on Maurice’s doorstep, bruised, penniless and desperate to find her boyfriend, Peterson, who has gone missing in England. Maurice soon realises nothing is as it seems with Lori-Ann.

Why is she chasing Peterson; why has her father, Pastor of the Church of Science and Development sent people to bring her home; what is behind the Federal Agency who is investigating Lori-Ann’s workplace in connection with its use of human embryos; and what happened in Nicaragua a quarter of a century ago that is echoing down the years? For Maurice and Lori-Ann the answers lie somewhere in their Fathers’ pasts.

Finding those answers will take Lori-Ann and Maurice from England via America to Nicaragua; in so doing they will have to confront some uncomfortable truths about their Fathers and learn some surprising things about themselves.

Reviews for the book

A Global Setting for a Thought-Provoking Book By Charli Mills on October 27, 2015 Format: Kindle Edition Verified Purchase
“My Father and Other Liars” is a thoughtful book full of twists and complex characters. The way author Geoff Le Pard develops characters to be both flawed and evocative is becoming a hallmark of his writing. The suspense in the book rises from a multitude tensions at the heart of which is political intrigue in regards of the use of stem cells in research. One of the thought-provoking aspects of the story is the crossroads between theology and science. It’s handled in such a way as to be believable and not offensive (unless one has a highly sensitive nature in regards to religion used as a medium in fiction). The author even shares (at the end of the book) how he developed his fictional theology. Another tension arises from the idea of adult orphans and those who have absentee-fathers or poor relationships. It’s a theme that crosses global borders just as the book itself is set in England, America and Nicaragua. The pace is steady and picks up so that it is hard to deny the next chapter. This is the second published novel by Geoff Le Pard and while it is different from his first, “Dead Flies and Sherry Trifle,” his voice comes through as a writer and someone I will continue to follow as a reader.
Format: Kindle Edition
I was on team Lori-Ann from the first page on. Mr. LePard’s book masterfully encompasses several settings. He pulls off the complicated challenge of a religious thriller in which the main characters find mirror images of their own family issues in each other’s story. I would highly recommend this book to anyone. But don’t read it at night — your mind will race too much and you’ll keep pulling it off the shelf until the sun comes up.


Buy the book – Amazon

Also by Geoff Le Pard


 About Geoff Le Pard


 I have been writing creatively since 2006 when at a summer school with my family I wrote a short radio play. That led to a novel, some more courses, more novels, each better than the last until I took an MA at Sheffield Hallam, realised you needed to edit, edit and then edit some more; the result is my first published book in 2014. I once was a lawyer; I am now a writer. When I’m not writing and thinking about writing, I’m blogging (which is a sort of writing); I cook, I walk, I read (but not enough) and I walk some more. The dog approves of my career choices.

Connect with Geoff

Google+ :

Thanks for dropping by and revisiting Geoff’s book.. Please feel free to share..thanks Sally