Michael Logan

Novelist, Journalist and other things ending in -ist

The many faces of Apocalypse Cow

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In the vein of looking up random people who share my name (from pro-wrestlers to TV preachers), I thought it would be fun to see how many other people are using the same pun as my first novel, Apocalypse Cow.
Below are the people and companies I will be tussling with in google searches. Luckily, there don’t seem to be any that feature zombie cows. It does, however, show just how hard it is to find a truly original title. 
I had the same problem with the novel I’m working on now. I came up with what I thought was a smart, funny and original title, only to find out Ben Elton had already used it for a book on a different subject (Dead Famous). The new title I came up with is probably better, but I was a bit miffed at the time. At least I won’t have to change the title of Apocalypse Cow, as there are no novels with the same name and nobody is flogging the same idea!
A Beer
Apocalypse Cow, by Three Floyds, appears to be a rather tasty brew, according to the reviews it has garnered and the number of people on twitter talking about how much they enjoying supping it of an evening.

A Recording Studio
Chicago-based Apocalypse Cow studios record “everything from industrial rock bands to solo acoustic artists”, and  apparently have a “calf-sized studio, cow-sized sound”.

Grindcore Band

Apocalypse Cow are a somewhat terrifying Netherlands-based Grindcore band, whose songs include screaming, frenetic versions of Love Will Tear Us Apart (Love Will Grind Us Apart) and Smells Like Teen Spirit. If there is ever a movie made of the book, they could scare the hell out of viewers with a demonic soundtrack.

Japanese Anime Festival in The Netherlands

Apocalypse Cow is the theme for a May 2012 Japanese anime festival in Almelo, The Netherlands. They have a rather natty logo, of a giant evil-eyed cow battling a funky robot. I’m actually in discussions with them about doing a signing, although nothing is confirmed since a zombie cow novel doesn’t necessarily fit in with anime. It is a funny coincidence, though, since the book is published a week before the festival begins.

Episode of The Simpsons

If anybody was going to use the same bad pun as me, it was probably always going to be The Simpsons. There is an episode called Apocalypse Cow in which Bart tries to save a cow from the slaughterhouse and accidentally ends up engaged as a result.

A Joke on The Daily Show

Talking of cheesy puns, Jon Stewart also made the wisecrack about Apocalypse Cow earlier this year

A Slot Machine
You can win up to 50 grand playing Ladbrokes’ Apocalypse Cow slot machine.

Weekly Apocalypses
Apocalypse Cow is also the home page of an artist who does rather groovy Weekly Apocalypses.

Kenya cops and their guns

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You know, I do rather wish that Kenyan police officers would keep their automatic weapons pointed at the ground a bit more often.

I’m sure you’ve seen the scene in Pulp Fiction, when Samuel L. Jackson is a bit too casual with his handgun and ends up spraying gore out of the back of the kid in the backseat’s head. Well, on more than one occasion, a cop has sat down next to me on a bus with his gun clutched across his chest. It is very disconcerting to have a gun barrel waggling around inches from your temple as the rickety old bus jiggles over potholes. I have this strange desire to keep my brain inside my skull, rather than splattered all over the grubby windows of a KBS banger. Call me picky if you like, but that’s just the way I feel.

Equally, having two officers sauntering in front of you in a busy shopping center with their guns slung over their shoulders, the barrels swinging around jauntily at head height, makes me feel a touch uneasy. Such moments are the only point in my life I wish I were at least a head shorter. It isn’t like the guns are exactly modern either, and who knows whether the safety is on.

Every day you read that the police have bravely shot dead “suspected” criminals in a variety of situations. I do wonder how many of those deaths were of the “my gun went off when I was picking my nose too vigorously and blew a hole in the forehead of a 79-year-old blind cripple, who has just become a notorious criminal” variety.

Campaigner Challenge

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I chanced up on this fun competition, where you have to write a 200-word story starting with “The door swung open”, and ending with “the door swung shut”. I had half an hour to spare, so here’s my daft take (alas, I can’t win any prizes, as I’m not a member, but hey ho):

This Door Swings Both Ways

The door swung open, as it would only do in the dead of night. It had a reputation for staying stubbornly closed, no matter who came knocking. In truth it just couldn’t trust itself to open: it didn’t want anybody to know it swung both ways.

No.5 was born this way, its double-acting hinges already fully formed. To swing in and out was as natural as could be for it, but society could not accept that. Everyone liked to pretend they were so modern and that each door was free to choose which way it swung. Yet No. 5 knew what lay beneath the tolerant veneer of the other doors ranged alone the leafy street, their letterboxes ready to chatter the instant they spied behaviour that did not belong in such a distinguished neighbourhood.
So it waited until night’s velvety blackness blinded even the beady peephole of the ever-vigilant No. 14, and the only sound was the soft creaking of sleeping wood. It swung (in, then out, in, then out), its wood flushed rose with pleasure, its hinges trembling with delicious friction, until the first blush of dawn tinged the sky.

Then, with a satisfied sigh, the door swung shut.

Getting real

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I was rather surprised last week to see Apocalypse Cow (avert your eyes now if shameless name dropping makes you feel queasy), which won Terry Pratchett’s first novel prize, available for pre-order on Amazon.co.uk, and also listed on amazon.com and amazon.ca. The publication date for the trade paperback and eBook is May 10 next year, so it is still a long way away, and I can only imagine the most hardcore of forward-planners (step forward my wife Nats, who keeps asking me about my five-year plan when I don’t even have a five-minute plan) will place orders now. 


Having said that, I have crept up the sales charts to a stupendous 297,699, which means that at least a few pre-orders have been place, although I don’t think David Nicholls, Dr Pierre Dukan and Kathryn Stockett need worry unduly about being knocked off their perch at the top just yet.

Not that I’m complaining. Seeing it up there for sale brings home the reality, which I have been struggling to accept. I don’t know if this is a first-author thing, or if it is because I am a miserable Scot who usually expects the worst possible outcome from every scenario, but I keep expecting the rug to be pulled out from under my feet, upending me onto my bony behind.

I’ve been like this the whole way through. When I submitted the novel to the Pratchett Prize, I did so at Nats’ insistence, as I was convinced it would never win. On the day the shortlist was to be announced, I wasn’t even thinking about it. When the initial elation of getting the email saying I had made the six-author shortlist faded, I then began waiting for another mail saying a mistake had been made. When that didn’t come, I convinced myself it would never win. When it did win, along with David Logan’s Half Sick of Shadows, I once again waited for the inevitable admission an error had been made. Then I kept expecting Transworld to change their minds, and pull the novel. And so on.

I think I have now just about accepted I am going to be a published author, but that isn’t going to stop me worrying. I can now turn my fruitless fretting to the fear of bad reviews and people not liking the book.

It just goes to show you can take the boy out of Glasgow, but you can’t take Glasgow out of the boy.

Who need enemies…

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…when you have friends like my former boss at The Budapest Times, Allan Boyko. Allan seemed to very much enjoy taking the piss out of me for the Pratchett Prize win in the article below. I would like to point out I actually didn’t see the child, and was only smiling because I was about to run into the underground and escape the horse charge, not because I was having an insane amount of fun rioting.

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