Flight into Outer Space

An incredible funk-strutting, face-stuffing, heart-wrenching, helicopter wedgie-dealing fantasy epic adventure story.

For Adults and Children of 10 years +

Welcome to Charlie Bluster Book 5, Flight into Outer Space.

After porking a load of Cheap Left-Over Selection Boxes from the after-Chrimbo sales, Charlie Bluster author, Graeme Clarke, is on a massive sugar rush, has got off his derriere and actually starting writing the next book, Charlie Bluster 5, The Flight Into Outer Space.

At least, that’s what we’re calling it right now but everything could change as the book takes shape. We’ll be posting updates, snippets and exclusive info throughout the whole process, right here on this page.

Keep reading because further down you’ll find a Brand New Chapter, freshly written, from book 5 and this incredible text hasn’t been seen by anyone else, not even your mum!

This flagrant abuse of power, worse than anything the Labour Party has ever done, provided an opening for bad guy Malcolm, god of Fate, and his companions in crime, Conn McLear and Fred Brown, to move in. This terrible trio have teamed up forming a new Triumvirate of Terror and taking on the task of bringing down ruin on poor old Charlie.

With a Set of Mean Haircuts and a Killer Range of New Merchandise, these sickening scum balls have gone to town visiting untold woes upon Charlie and his government in their vile attempts to depose him. By the end of the book, Bluster has hit rock bottom! Not only is he last in the opinion polls, but he has broken several fingernails, and, worst of all, has been powerless to prevent the brutal killing of his closest friends in an End-Of-Season Finale Far More Gripping Than Even the Masterchef Final.

These disasters, far worse than when your little sister spilt chocolate ice cream all down daddy’s new car, have hit Charlie hard. On the verge of a severe mental breakdown, he commandeered the nearest flying horse and headed out in the direction of Outer Space, determined to put as much distance as possible between himself and any more trouble.

Of all Charlie’s friends and trusted cabinet ministers, only Mrs Higgensworth, staunch defender of discipline, hygiene, and the Benefit of Eating Cabbage Three Times a Week, has been left to keep the country together until such point as Charlie returns or the Tories can actually find a decent candidate to field in the next General Election.

Outer Space is a dangerous place, there exist dark corners of the universe that have never even seen Starwars on the telly, planets of foul aliens where wind is broken day and night without fail and worst of all, entire worlds populated only by Insurance Salesman, (aaaaarrrrrgggggghhhhhh, help mummy). Unfortunately, it’s just such a dreadful place that Charlie has landed in, alone and afraid. How will the un-god of fate cope with such a hell??

The very end of book 4 gives us a brief insight into the awful situation:

Far away, in the dark reaches of the universe, there are advanced civilisations capable of space travel that have never even heard of chips.

The Xargon Empire, clustered around the inner planets of the Xega System, (second left past the blue bottom-shaped gas nebula), was just such a race.

X’argle, First Marketeer of the Xargon Federal Car Insurance Bureau, was struggling to get out on time.

It was Thursday night and he’d planned to meet the lads down the pub.

“Children, can you please hurry up and eat your green vegetable protoplasm!

X’egge, stop throwing hum-balls at your sister!

If you don’t do what you’re told you know what will happen. Tonight, when you’re all fast asleep, the dreaded Un-god of Fate will come and take you away!

The terrible threat of the evil name scared the children momentarily into good behaviour giving space for X’argle to make a sharp exit, leaving the wife in charge.

Get it on Amazon

Leave a Review

What about the gods?

Outright winner from Dance of Destiny and Seargent Smug, who is surely more cunning than Blofeld’s pet fox, is Malcolm, god of Fate. While Brown and McLear were focused on taking down Charlie, Malcolm recruited the Titans, an ancient race, Powerful in the Ways of Belching, to help take down the gods. Together they have attacked Olympus, making sure that no assistance can come to Charlie from that quarter.

By the time the dust settles, not only has Malcom been victorious, he has been elected as the new chief god and his two expendable partners in crime, Conn McLear, and Fred Brown, have been dumped faster than Last Friday’s Stale Curry. Unfortunately for them, these two idiots have served their purpose and now McLear is dead and Brown has also fled into Outer Space, (due to being in mortal fear of the Monumental Ass-Whooping he’ll receive from our old friend, Charlie Bluster).

Malcolm has finally realized his life ambitions of being on permanent holiday and of having three TVs in his living room at once. Former chief god and Out-Of-Date Old Granddad, Zeus, has been relegated to an eternity of penal servitude mucking out the flying horse stables.

Malcolm is too busy sipping cool drinks and scratching his bum to worry about Zeus, instead he has promoted one of his top Titan henchmen, Uncle Trevor, to the rank of head slave master and tasked him with making Zeus’ life as miserable as possible.

So now, here it is, hang on tight to your spare pair of underpants because this is the first excerpt from Charlie Bluster Book 5:

Stalag 42

It was done at last! Uncle Trevor sat back and reviewed Zeus’ new Slavery Schedule. He had stayed up way past bedtime working on it using every crayon in the pack. It was a thing of beauty and Malcolm would surely be pleased.

The day started early at six a.m., a time Zeus normally referred to as The Middle Of The Night.

Zeus would enjoy a hearty breakfast of Rainwater and Cud before starting his first session at the stables with the pleasant task of mucking out the flying horses.

These ugly beasts were all vastly overweight and dropped heavily during the night thanks to their diet of Curried Potatoes. The filthy animals refused any form of toilet training and let fly wherever they were standing. By six o’clock in the morning, the stuff would be knee-deep with a Poo Stench Severe Enough To Cut Through Any Bank Vault.

The terrible reek would surely help wake the old god up and get him moving for more work, (Trevor took a minute to note down in the margin this wonderful favour he was according to Zeus and how nice he was being).

This was fortunate as Zeus’ morning would be spent shovelling dung, sweeping out filthy hay and then, when it was clear, scrubbing the floor to a high shine using his Own Toothbrush.

At this point, sometime around eleven, Uncle Trevor would arrive after his morning Sausage And Egg Scoffing Session to inspect the good work.

Of course, Trevor’s boots would invariably pick up disgusting manure from the path on the way over so Zeus would need to work a good two or three hours Licking It All Off Again.

Once the boots were nice and shiny, Zeus would be permitted a short break of Ten Or Maybe Even Eleven Seconds, (again, Trevor noted down how kind he was being to the poor old god and elected to discuss with Malcolm whether this lengthy pause was too lenient).

The next slavery session would be writing lines. He had to copy out ‘Zeus Breath Smells Worse Than A Sumo Wrestler’s Bum’ Infinity Times.

Unfortunately, this is where things got difficult for Trevor. Malcolm had required him to supervise the session personally and ensure Zeus corrected any mistakes.

Trevor himself wasn’t used to the terrible strain of actually doing any work so a large sofa had been installed for his comfort.

It would be staffed by Hera, former queen of the gods and Infernal Busybody, who was also under punishment duty, (due to her non-stop nagging).

Hera would keep Trevor cool by waving a large fan, all the while feeding him jelly babies to keep his strength up.

Should the packet contain any foul Black Petrol-Tasting Jelly Babies, these would be set aside and given to Zeus later for his tea – muahahahahahhaha)!

Trevor on the other hand would join Malcolm for tea which was always a full five-course roast dinner with Yorkshire Pudding and all the trimmings. The chefs would cook using the maximum number of pots and pans in order to give Zeus and Hera the largest amount of washing up possible.

The two slaves would stand ready and watch while the dinner was eaten and then, when the After-Meal Belching Session was complete would be allowed to start the tidy-up.

Only when the kitchen had been scrubbed cleaner than Mr Muscle’s Toilet, could Zeus finally retire to bed. His mattress had been strategically positioned in the cellar where all the Skidded Underpants And Dead Cockroaches were discarded.

The schedule was complete with the whole wonderful experience repeating the following morning. Trevor drew a nice smiley face at the top of the page and headed off in a good mood to present it to the prisoners.