If you’re here you must be wondering who the hell this Epic Kettner freak is.

A child once asked my middle name.  ‘DANGER’ is my middle name, I replied, confidently.  Disappointingly, the child just accepted this information and said no more.  I had hoped to at least make up a wild tale of derring-do which involved me rolling over the bonnet of a car and having to disappear into the crowd of a busy train station whilst being pursued by evil Feds.  Kids nowadays, no fucking curiosity.

…Anyhoo, back to the whole Epic Kettner thing. I decided that if someone can be called Rebel Wilson then by God I can be called Epic.  Aggravatingly, I later discovered that Rebel is the woman’s real name.  Mine isn’t Epic but by fuck I’m not answering to anything else from this day forward.

So who am I? In short, a relatively recently orphaned comedy writer and stand up who strongly believes that she is the plaything of the Fates.  Accident prone.  Genius (hell YEAH I’m a genius), over-thinker, over-sharer, terminal singleton who is not only on the shelf, she is on the top shelf covered in sticky dust and small dead flies.  SO SINGLE in fact, I could not even pull a rotten tooth out of the rotting jaw of a long dead Basilisk EVEN if I had a Horcrux to destroy…..yeah, that was a Harry Potter reference.  To labour a point, I can confirm that I am SO SINGLE and unwanted that where once I had a flourishing ‘Lady Garden’ there is now just an abandoned brownfield site covered in upended shopping trollies and dog shit.  Tragically, it’s been so long since anyone even visited my downstairs lady place that I have the strong suspicion that it’s all healed up.  Just a network of scar tissue and barbed wire……

So that’s me.  Epic Kettner and this is where my my brain will fart out it’s crap.