Referring to oneself in the third-person is odd, but necessary when you need to introduce yourself to someone you’ve probably never met. The man in the sepia picture is the esteemed (yeah, right) Duncan P. Bradshaw, and right here and now, the P stands for Panda. Awww. Isn’t that something? Often, during readings and the like, the P will invariably stand for something far ruder.

Duncan wrote his first back back in the halcyon days of 2014, when the world seemed a far simpler place, and he was nuts deep in zombies. Metaphorically you understand, the baseless accusations of the undead are just that, and he has received assurances that the dead have no legal status once they become deceased. His debut novel, CLASS THREE, was a rip-roaring horror/comedy dealio, and he shoved everything in there that he wanted to, for he did not know if he could be arsed to write another book after. But he did…dear reader, he did.

It was when he did a bizarro writing course under the tutelage of Garrett Cook, did he realise that in addition to being hilarious and disgusting, he was also weird. Very weird. In truth, the latter was known about him for some time, but Duncan now married the three things together in unholy unison, and this is where his work really took off. Not wanting to be pigeonholed, he took the onus to do it himself, and came up with the concept of GoreCom. His writing now a mish-mash of outlandish concepts, madcap characters, all wrapped up in a blood-stained pair of pants that he found in his back garden one day. Those pants were not his own, but he sniffed them anyway.

This invention of GoreCom paved the way for his best known work, which bear no resemblance to the undead that he started out writing. MR SUCKY, the murderous vacuum cleaner started the phase, before CANNIBAL NUNS FROM OUTER SPACE! underlined what Duncan was now about. Entertainment. The pure unadulterated joy of reading something that could not be written by anyone else. There’s a gleefulness (totally a word) to the way that you’re laughing on one page and dry retching on the next.  DON’T SMELL THE FLOWERS! THEY WANT TO STEAL YOUR BONES! saw him break the fourth wall, in an attempt to connect the reader to the characters on the page. Before CONGRATULATIONS! YOU’VE ACCIDENTALLY SUMMONED A WORLD-ENDING MONSTER. WHAT NOW? took the lead in the longest title he could concoct to date, smashing the choose-your-own-adventure books of his youth with his own stylings, which also includes a hidden short-story collection.

But then the pandemic came along, and all the creative wind disappeared from his sails. The book he was working on, BECALMED, became just that. But now, in late 2022 there is a stirring from the owner of those blood-stained pants. The unmistakeable sound of a Mr Sucky motor is building, the first of a new tranche of books, of more blood-spattered wonder. So buckle up, Duncan is gonna rock the indie world once more!


*** Due to rising costs, the shop via this website is now closed, but…you can buy his wares from Amazon, in person from him at conventions, or give him a shout via the contact page and he’ll see what he can do ***

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