3rd March 2014. | Bristol, UK.

Visit for contact details, review copies, interview extracts, photos, and an author bio.


Adam Jones, author of the Little Whippendon series, will be donating all proceeds from his new book to Sport Relief

Adam Jones is allergic to sport. It makes him go all red and sweaty. But he does love the work Sport Relief do for communities around the country. He has written a novella especially for the event and will be donating all the author proceeds to the Sport Relief charity. The book is called A Game of One Half and is one sale now. It is available on Amazon in Kindle edition or paperback and will remain on sale for the rest of the year.

For fans of Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett, Tom Sharpe, Tom Holt



Adam Jones lives in Bristol, UK, and is an independent author. Shunning the typical approach to publishing, Adam has never sent a manuscript to an agent or a publisher. Instead, he has built a cult following through self-publishing his work and has quickly become a unique voice in the UK indie publishing movement. He is a published academic and the author of the Little Whippendon series of novellas. When he isn’t writing he enjoys cycling very slowly and discordant guitar playing.

Pricing information

Kindle £1.99 (£1.33 goes to Sport Relief)

Paperback £3.99 (£1.09 goes to Sport Relief)

Full details on how cover price/donation is broken down are available here. *ADD LINK*


A game of one half tells the story of the strangest football match ever played. It is a drizzly and overcast day when Sergeant Roy Jarvis takes delivery of the greatest football ever produced. Unfortunately for Roy, things do not run smoothly. With a cast of zombies, vampires, werewolves and the Women’s Institute, this novella is not to be missed.

Praise for earlier Little Whippendon books.

“A  really witty story, great humour.”

“Funny, atmospheric and very hard to put down”

“Great sense of humour”

“A very funny book”

“Haven’t laughed so much in ages”

“Genuine laugh out loud moments”


Little Whippendon was thought by many to be a beautiful village. Poets who had visited had, almost without exception, written verse about its quaint houses and thatched roofs. Artists had painted the village square from every conceivable angle. The ‘square’ was actually triangular, so this wasn’t quite as hard as it sounded. Politicians had visited too, although no one was really sure what they had contributed. Most of the buildings in Little Whippendon predated the Boer War. It was suspected by many, that some of the inhabitants of Little Whippendon also predated the Boer War, if not the Napoleonic War. In at least one case, this was true.

For all this beauty and quaintness, however, and regardless of the rustic aspect so many held dear, there was no avoiding the headquarters of the Little Whippendon Police Department. In a sea of tranquillity, it was a sea-monster, sticking a tentacle out of the waves and wiggling it proudly. It had been built as a temporary measure, a tin box on short wooden struts. The entirety of its outer shell had been daubed in a thick battleship grey and left to rot. Flaking, peeling sections of paintwork gave way to rust patches, bent screws and peeling putty. Sergeant Roy Jarvis had tried his best to keep the place looking tidy, but had failed miserably. His passion for housework and do-it-yourself was outstripped only by his complete inability to tidy or do-it-himself.


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