Knocking myself out at BWF

The gods are rubbing their hands and giggling with wicked delight.

Only days after publicly revealing my fear of ever again sharing a signing table with Morris Gleitzman, they've conspired to put us on the same bill for this year's Word Play at the Brisbane Writers Festival.

For those who missed it the first time, Morris has queues that extend to the outer reaches of the galaxy, while I try to attract passing interest by balancing a pen on the end of my nose, toppling backwards out of a chair, ...