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that thorn guy 
Sorry, who are you again ??
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I learned this deadly palm-strike from Bruce lee. Thought you could use it in your next novel.
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“I see you chose the robot shirt, Thorn Guy. I must touch it…”
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When Mark Lawrence didn’t have the right card behind his back, he decided to quit magic tricks and run a kennel for stray dogs.
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“The suspense is killing me dude, did that rad chick from Australia win the signed copy of the Vagrant?”
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Seriously this is the last time I’m explaining this, it’s not rocket science Mark, keep up.
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So is he really gonna eat the invisible sandwich? Everyone really wants to see this happen. I mean what’s the worst that could happen?
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And then at the end, after all that talk about haggis it was like that pie eating scene out of “stand by me”
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I’ve got applecrumble’s book behind my back, I secretly love his lighter take on my genre.
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….” no, actually you lightly blow in the anal cavity, then it just drops the shells in your hand…”
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I twist it left and it gets grimmer, right and it gets darker. So really, whatever I do just results in awesome. Sooooo, can I have it back Mark?
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“…and then they made me their chief.”
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Mark’s internal monologue: What kind of beard is that? It’s more like a hair stripe than anything. I know he’s saying something right now, but I can’t concentrate with that thing staring me in the face.
I mean for crying out loud, it’s like a landing strip on his chin….
Would it be rude if I faked choking right now to slip away?
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And then Jorg flew away on a flying purple unicorn! Tyrion was still picking up his teeth off the ground. What a dream, like thorn of thrones amirite???
Wait, what?
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We find here the lesser spotted Markius Lawrencesicus as it ponders whether having a chinstrap is cause enough for a bludgeoning with the mace hidden behind its back.
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“….the aristocrats?”
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“So, Jorg– I mean Mark, I noticed you’ve been keeping that hand behind for a while now…”
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“Hey Mark, I have a brilliant idea for your next book. Jorg in Space!”
“Uh… thanks.” Dammit! How did he guess? I haven’t told anyone about Jorg vs. The Vulcans!
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“Hey Mark, what do you think of a collaboration whit that new author? A cross-genre “Wheel-Mouse & Jorg vs. Crazy Pooping Robots? No?”
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“Im a fucking rocket scientist….and i have to stand here listening to this shit.. just buy the books already…… do you think anyone will notice if i sing to myself…..There she was just a walking Down the street singin’ Do wah diddy diddy Dum diddy do…. nope he’s still bloody talking…….Snapping her fingers And a shuffling her feet singin’…… “
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Dude in the brown shirt has been talking for ten minutes with no end in sight. Mark thinks, “I’ve had six beers. I really need a wee but he just…won’t…stop…talking! What would Jorg do?”
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Mark Lawrence about to surprise guests with one of his sharp-edged awards.
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“How many fingers am I holding up behind my back?”
“…Four?”
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“Mmm..yes..I can sense it ..
Watch me!
I see a deal and a nice heap of cash heading your way Mark!”
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All gazed intently waiting for any sign of like from the human statue
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I’m not Amish but I do think their beards are funky and stylish
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“And you might think that’s the most horrifying story you have ever heard, but it is in fact only the third worst I have ever told”
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The small of his back wasn’t the most obvious or comfortable place to conceal a small axe. In truth, he’d only brought his Gemmell Award along to wring out anguished tears from Lord Grimdark, but as he listened to this man openly mock his “feeble attempt at beard growth compared to my own magnificence!”, Mark suddenly realised there was another use he could put it to…
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“No no NO! First you must romance the sheep. Start with sweet words, buy her flowers, and end with a kiss. Like this!”
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OMG dont look but there are two guys right behind you wearing the same shirt!!!
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Just a second, I can play a tune with this fart…
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Are you serious? There is no way your “Robot Force Field” will save you from my “best shot”!
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With fingers crossed behind his back, Mark promises a fan that Jalan and Snorri will both survive the Red Queen’s War.
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“The heathen droned on. And on. For hours it seemed, though it may have only been minutes. In any event i couldn’t help but wonder if a quick depression of that oh so tempting adams apple might put him in mind of more important uses for his lungs than talking. I mustn’t let it stray beyond wondering though, not this time. He may be the nearest thing i have to competition in this game of ours, but after all Brothers what fun is a game without a little healthy competition? At least as healthy as one can hope to be when making it his business to compete with me. So i kept quiet, civil, not happy mind you..civil. I day dreamed with my face frozen in the mask of the attentive listener, i stood that way with one arm hooked in front, one behind, for the entirety of the heathen’s mind numbing diatribe. Yet I’m not quite sure why..i think Makin once told me that’s how you should stand at a formal event. All polite-like. All i know is i would just as soon see the walls stained red and the city around them torn asunder than spend one more minute in this strange pub.”
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I think Mark just shot the other guy behind his back. He seems like falling at any moment.
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Hand cupped over his belly, Mark wondered just how long it would take for the blubbing idiot to realise that he was pregnant.
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