Hello. It is April 2026. There are various horrors and tragedies being enacted across the planet, but rejoice, for it is time for the fortieth monthly issue of Interesting Skull, a newsletter of adorable little guffaws and pedestrian updates by me: author, budget chorizo enthusiast and big fan of saying “spring is springing” at this sort of time of year, Mike Rampton. (It was time for it several weeks ago actually, but I was on holiday.)

"Lots of Mediterranean countries agree about what the best musical sequel is. Turkey agrees, Cyprus agrees, Malta agrees..."
"Greece too?"
"No, Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again."

I have been shortlisted for an award. There’s No Such Thing As A Silly Question is one of six books up for the 2026 UK Literacy Association Book Award in the Information 3-14 category. I’ve been invited to the ceremony, but it’s in Glasgow. I love trains (I really, really love trains) but that’s pretty much a day’s travel each way so I might not go. I’ll go a long way for a few free drinks and some daft party snacks, but there has to be a limit. That book has also just hit language number thirty, which is amazing. I really want it to become a runaway bestseller in an unexpected place so I can be, like, Estonia’s answer to Terry Deary and experience fame in a controlled, escapable manner. (The fact that he is the only famous children’s non-fiction author in the world suggests it probably isn’t on the cards.) I don’t ask for much in life, I just want to be invited on the Bulgarian version of The Masked Singer to sing Basket Case while dressed as a giant shoe. Frankly it sickens me that this hasn’t happened yet, and everyone in the world, including you, you pig, should feel ashamed. Lovely news about the award though!

Mikefest 2026 is nearly upon us. In news sure to excite the bookers of Finnish Richard Osman’s Finnish House Of Finnish Games, we’re a mere month away from my three-book, four-week run: Solve The World’s Greatest Mysteries is out on May 7th, So Bad It’s Good: The Art Of The Terrible Joke is out on May 21st and Adulting Made Easy is out on June 4th. The cool thing about being really stressed all the time is that I don’t really remember what’s in any of them, so when my copies arrive in the post it’ll be sort of like I’ve been sent some presents.

"I just had a game pie with the author of the Horrible Histories books."
"Deary?"
"More pheasanty actually."

I attacked the lead singer from System Of A Down, but he successfully defended himself using an extension lead. Good thing it had a Serj protector.

“I'm reading the CBeebies Bedtime Story later, and want to make sure I look attractive, but am also dressed in a way that shows my love of loud alternative music.”
“Handsome and Metal?”
“No, the story I am reading is The Three Bears. I hope I look punk and fit.”

Some royalties came in the other day. Awesomely, in the 25-26 tax year, 70% of my income came from books or book-adjacent stuff like school talks (20% was working on ad treatments and 10% was journalism). In a way that’s really exciting: I often umm and aah about whether I can say I’m an author, but 70% of my income coming from something feels like, yeah, that’s my job. But in another way it’s less exciting, because crucially, it’s 70% of not very much! Like, if I’d made what I could have done with making, that same amount of book income would be about 40% of the total. So, what can I conclude? Just that I need loads of big fat sweet lush dosh!

"This copy of a sexy tennis film belongs to the bloke from The Lost World."
"Challengers?"
"No, this DVD of Match Point is actually Ian Malcolm's. We're thinking of different The Lost Worlds: you are thinking of the second Jurassic Park film while I am thinking of the novel by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. How funny of us."

“I like op art, I think it's good,” said Bridget, wryly.

“I’ve chosen the perfect font for a story about my favourite Disney character.”
“Ariel?”
“No, the ringmaster from Dumbo is the protagonist of my story, which is typeset in Calibri.”

500,000: The number of people on the anti-fascism march I went on. My daughter made a sign that said “Far right? More like far wrong!” and I was so proud I cried. I spent ages trying to figure out a workable version of “Far right? These idiots can’t even fart right!” but it just doesn’t make any sense, and my criticisms are much more about their politics of hatred and exclusion than their ability to fart, which they might be good at.

1,500: The new Guinness World Record for the most Bluetooth speakers played simultaneously, which was broken at a Cambridge United Women’s Football Club match my daughter and I attended, making us record holders, sort of. This was the day after the march: a fun weekend of choosing to be one small faceless part of a large group, for both important and silly reasons.

43: I am this old now, in years.

1: The number of beautifully sunny days where I just sacked everything off, walked through the woods and drank some cider. There were lots of other days where I achieved just as little without having nearly as nice a time. I think I’m learning some bad lessons.

People say I'm old-fashioned for relying on my bluey-green egg timer, but I think it shows I'm really into cyan sand technology.

What doles out soup crying "Out, damned spot!"?
Ladle Macbeth

“I met my favourite supporting actress from Grease at a convention.”
“Didi Conn?”
“No, I’m not familiar with that one. New York Comic Con is where I met Stockard Channing.”