Chris Norris, Emeritus Professor of Philosophy at Cardiff University, expert in English Literature and Literary Theory, and author of many books on philosophy, criticism, and poetry, has reported as follows, whilst engaging over considerable time time with these "Tall Tales" (online and in print, in English):

"This is an amazing and enthralling mixture of fiction, journal, speculative musing, science, pataphysics, daily journal, news-report, self-analysis, joke-book, satire, end-times reckoning, cosmic comedy, meta-fictional romp, faits-divers chapbook – the lot! Hugely ambitious, brilliantly done."

"Just had a great day reading your totally amazing text and enjoying it hugely. Sparked so many thoughts, connections and memories in my head that I couldn't start to list them all ... [I] am totally amazed by [Tall Tales] – just wow! [M]arvellously inventive writing."

Pjetër Mamrick (the Editor): Biography

by Gertrude Llwynlesg

 Pjetër Mamrick (y Golygydd): Bywgraffiad

gan Gertrude Llwynlesg

By the way – How does one pronounce the name of this lovely, ugly town where I live at present, I hear you ask? It is, after all, a name that’s become thoroughly Kimbric over the centuries, and, of course, stress in our ancient language is almost always on the penultimate syllable. (In many other tongues, it’s the first syllable, or otherwise has to be indicated by odd accent-marks!) However, those who know their onions say Aber-DYDD without a thimbleful of hesitancy, on the basis of abstruse linguistic considerations in Ancient Keltic [see: “Enchantment of the Keltic Tongues,” L Lyons and M Lyons, Aberdydd: Northishfolk Press. — P.M.]. This pronunciation’s represented as “abɛrˈdiːð” in the universal vocal symbols. You’ll also see the spelling Aber-dydd plastered on signs here and there from time to time to reflect this stress. There’s some others who know better, allegedly, however, and insist on saying, totally incorrectly, AB-er-dydd (or even worse, Ab-ER-dydd, although that sounds exceptionally odd to my tender ear). [The same ones who idolize the old Yarl Aber-Dygdhar, no doubt. — D.M.P.] It would be worthwhile remembering that in the old Yrthian tongue, the phrase “abelé dodí” (AB-eley DO-diy) means “strange wonder” and so I believe I’m right, as usual, although the words mutated into “apele thothu” over the millennia. Why does everything have to change all the time? It’s not fair, not fair at all! — Fred Fantastic.

Tall Tales  Chapter 06 (Scribbling)

Across the lambs a shadow falls,

And furthermore, beside grove’s wall,

In old mute coomb (or maybe vale), 

Where secret still, and steep, winds trail, 

On hill, chock-full of withered pines –

So sullen – dumb – dark virtue’s shrine, 

Where, now, 'neath harsh-eyed gaze of moon, 

Live tribes of truly clueless loons,

In cottage poor, and mansion fine,

Oh Gods, they grow not wisdom’s vines, 

(But bear, perchance, the seeds of lust)!

From birthing-cry to death’s last gust,

They screech with pain from spectral scar,

Each day locked tight by word-charmed bars –

By shadow red and bloody flesh –

Until returns fate's scythe afresh, 

To hound them down through field and dell –

And blood pours out ‘midst flame-stream fell. 

If one man dies, then all survive; 

Through him will human-kind all thrive?

Daud Pekar: Tall Tales Chapter 33 (Foretelling)