My appointment with Mr Jones is on the fifth floor. Now living off vodka, Mr Jones was a prawn trawlerman. He keeps his windows open permanently to air the flat. In 1970 he organised a rock festival that is remembered as “an unmitigated disaster.”
My brief reads simply, “Help him.”
Haley’s Comet works in the field of Adult Social Care in the North of England. His recent forays into writing under his real name have been largely academic and research-based but have also included reviews of music and old computer games on niche fan sites. Other recent attempts to smuggle critical analysis, social commentary, and surrealism onto his Facebook status have been largely unheralded and gone unnoticed except for by his mum who rings him to ask if he is feeling all right. Haley’s Comet is 41, unpublished, and has never made a single penny out of creative writing. He did once create and self-publish a comic about a cat though, despite his inability to draw.