Blog of Laurence Donaghy

The Germ of an Idea

In an article in the Guardian published on the 18th June the following quote appeared which inspired the beginning of the short story below:

“In 2001, Leonard Leibovici of Tel Aviv university published a study in the British Medical Journal, testing the power of prayer. He argued that as we cannot assume a priori that time is linear, or that God is limited by linear time, why not pray for patients without their knowledge, after the disease has been treated? He conducted a trial that was randomised, blinded and statistically controlled involving 3,393 patients who had been treated in hospital for bloodstream infection.

That difficult second book

It’s strange for me even to be phrasing it like that, because originally the Folk’d trilogy was simply Folk’d; one big novel. I started rewriting it from the original screenplay idea as a competition entry that had a minimum word length of 80,000 words. At one stage I’d done almost that number and I genuinely thought I was almost finished. At that stage Danny’s trip to the Otherworld was a shortish one where after a few hallucinatory episodes – very psychologically revealing, naturally – he basically was taken inside the big standing stone circle and given the choice: either Dermot Scully (who was the wish-maker in that draft) or his baby son.

The Dark Knight Rises - Review

I have an odd barometer for movies. It's not how good the acting is, or how stunning the cinematography or how jaw-dropping the special effects. It's almost sixty years old, my barometer, and crotchety would not begin to describe it. 

Step forward Larry Donaghy, my dear old Dad, who took me and my mate to see my first 15-rated movie when I was 12. Cliffhanger, in case you're wondering...and we went with our fake date of births memorised off by heart, presumably expecting the couldn't-give-a-toss attendant to be some sort of CIA agent on work experience.

Mum, get 2 copies! Get 2 copies! Get one for Auntie Dolores!

It's a bit weird, opening a newspaper and seeing you staring back at you. I don't like me anyway; I always seem a bit suss. When I catch sight of my big balloony face while shaving or in a shop window or via the mirror in my bedroom ceiling my first instinct goes back to those courses the office used to insist you go on; challenge this stranger. Who are you? What business do you have here? Why are you carrying those laptops under your arm? Will I accept this fifty quid to go somewhere else? Does the Pope shit in the woods?

Post-apocalyptic Match Interview


I like football. In fact I love it. I’ve often thought I’d have more intellectual credibility if I didn’t love football, in the same way we can’t take someone seriously if they admit to being a rocket scientist who adores Chris Moyles. But there we go; whether through a desire to bond with my fellow man, or through fond childhood memories of the United – Crystal Palace FA Cup Final of 1990, a love of the game is hardwired to my brain.


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