Author

Chris Whyatt

Hippy, Hoppy, Happy London, 1967... Chris Whyatt is born into abject gravity. Not too long after this unremarkable event, the swinging stopped. And the average reading/writing age at Amhurst Primary School plummeted. During his teens, he was visited by Lucy Fyre, a much-maligned lady with a reputation that was pretty much deserved (what with demanding a bigger throne and corrupting angels, and that). However, she did deny nicking chariots and toasting pixies. ​​​With the help of his translator, Trisa Whytch, she bestowed upon him a devilish sense of humour, which, like most things, people either hated, loved, ridiculed, or just plain misunderstood. In later life, he apologised to those he'd upset. Unfortunately, his Dad didn't hear the apology as he was resting in peace. Now, this bit is even more boring... can you imagine that! He mainly writes humorous fantasy. This is by no means a promise, though, and the right is reserved to pen whatever comes into his strange little mind with no prior warning. You have been not warned.