F is for Flatcap

I wear a flat cap. There’s so little hair left on my head that I need a bonnet on it, and my preferred headgear is the flat cap. I swap it for a woolly hat during the winter and a sun hat when I’m in warmer climes, but most of the time, I have my flat cap on.

My great love is writing humour. It’s not easy and I don’t always hit the spot, but I try.

For the third part of this equation, I put the two together, and I come up with Flatcap.

We all know a Flatcap. He’s the know-all in the corner of the bar, the authority on every subject under the sun. He’s a DIY bodger, and therefore an authority on every practical task your common-or-garden householder is likely to come across. He’s been married for over forty years, and that naturally make him an expert on relationships. He recalls that golden era when there was no such thing as reality TV, which makes him an encyclopaedia on entertainment, and his favourite beverage is brown ale, which, of course, makes him a connoisseur of fine ales, wines and spirits.

If you listen to Flatcap, it soon become apparent that he doesn’t really know what he’s talking about, but there’s something about his cynical observations which strikes a chord: a ring of truth behind the absurdity.

If Flatcap has a name, we never learn it. Similarly his wife is known only as Mrs Flatcap or Her Indoors, and she is both the love and the bane of his life, although you’d never get him to admit the former.

You can read Flatcap’s lunacy in three separate volumes

Flatcap’s Guide to UK Holidays

Flatcap on Sex

Flatcap – Grumpy Old Blogger