Do you know any great vampire jokes? No, me neither. But I do know some terrible ones.
Q. Why do vampires make bad cricketers?
A. They only like to bat.
Q. What did the teacher say to the vampire who failed his maths test?
A. “You can’t count, Dracula.”
Q. How does a vampire cross the ocean?
A. In a blood vessel.
I know,I know. It’s agony. I’ll stop right there before we all do something we’ll regret…
Why am I telling you these awful nosferatu gags? It’s not, as you might imagine, that I’ve pulled my Christmas crackers two months early. Nor that I’m indulging in some fang-related childish mirth for Children in Need.
No, the answer is that I’ve somehow lumbered myself with running a vampire-themed book launch party on Facebook tomorrow (Friday 23) and I’ve been desperately searching around for fun activities, chilling facts and bits of bloodsucker nonsense to while away what is going to be the longest day of my life.
It’s the official publication day of That’s Why The Lady is a Vamp (third in the Quintessentially Quirky Tales humour series) and I’ve just realised that I’ve got to keep my party guests entertained for nine hours (Yes – NINE whole hours!)
And if you think these groan-inducing one-liners are frightening, (Where do vampires go on holiday? To the Isle of Fright!) you won’t believe what other desperate diversions I’ve got hidden up my period frilly lace-cuffed sleeve. To nick the punch line from a very rude Halloween joke – it’ll scare the willies out of you.
I did, I have to confess, consider having spooky party games – pin the tail on the yeti, kiss the ghouls and make them cry, shave the wolfman, banshee blind man’s bluff, musical electric chairs and old favourites like bobbing for apples in a bucket of decapitated heads.
But the truth is these innocent pastimes felt a bit… well, kiddie, a little juvenile. And damn difficult to perform online. Especially those involving water or inappropriate physical contact.
So I’ve decided I’m going for a sophisticated approach instead. My exclusive, discerning visitors will be treated to sharp, intellectual quizzes and indulge in witty banter with each other, while I circulate (does that count as a blood joke?) with platters of imaginary food and pour copious amounts of pretend alcohol. Made-up soft drinks will be available for those who imagine that they’ve been appointed the group’s designated driver…
Now, I don’t blame you for thinking that I’ve finally flipped and that the whole enterprise is totally nuts. To be honest, I do too – the odd conceit of pretending to have a knees-up on Facebook is frankly barmy. It’s akin to telling everyone you’re jetting off on holiday to Barbados, but staying at home instead and posting a TripAdvisor review slagging off the hotel you would have stayed at and complaining that your fictional resort was a bit overcrowded.
It’s all a bit Alice in Wonderland…
But hey, other authors have told me Facebook parties are a hoot and that people seem to like them so who am I to be a spoilsport? I can pretend with the best of them – have you seen my birthday “Oh thanks, what a wonderful gift. It’s just what I’ve always wanted” face?
And bearing in mind the famous tombstone inscription: “I’ll try anything once. What’s the worst that can happen?” I’m going to give it my best shot.
If you, loyal reader, want to join me you’d be very welcome. It all kicks off HERE at 11am and carries on (and I do mean Carry On!) until 8pm when I’ll be taken away sobbing to be given a REAL drink at a REAL pub.
Let’s get mad together and submerge ourselves in the surreal silliness that is modern digital age marketing.
If you can’t make it or if you want to dodge jokes like: “I’m very optimistic. Even my blood group is Be Positive” you can still show your support. Simply pop along to Amazon or Smashwords and make an old humorist very happy by purchasing a copy of That’s Why The Lady is a Vamp and Other Quintessentially Quirky Tales.
It won’t improve your love life, make you ten years younger or help you learn a new language in a weekend, but it should make you chuckle.
In the meantime, wish me luck on my 9-hour keyboard ordeal. I suspect by the end of tomorrow – unlike the characters in a vampire film – I’ll be praying for nightfall!