Small-Town Comedy & Sci-Fi Author Based in Scotland
Kerrie Noor is a contemporary and sci-fi comedy writer who has inflicted her quirky, offbeat humour on audiences far and wide—from the Edinburgh Free Fringe to community radio, rest homes, and anyone who sits still long enough to listen.
A proudly mature woman who’s circled the block more times than she’d care to admit, Kerrie doesn’t shy away from life’s messiness—or her characters’. “I like ’em earthy, ordinary, and believable,” she says. “Then I toss them in at the deep end and see what floats—hopefully something unexpected.”
When she’s not writing about middle-aged belly dancers or intergalactic misfits, she’s probably plotting her next laugh-out-loud performance somewhere in a quiet Scottish town.
Kerrie has been shortlisted for the Ashram Short Story Award and has had two comedy dramas produced for radio.
Small-Town Comedy & Sci-Fi Author Based in Scotland
Kerrie Noor is a contemporary and sci-fi comedy writer who has inflicted her quirky, offbeat humour on audiences far and wide—from the Edinburgh Free Fringe to community radio, rest homes, and anyone who sits still long enough to listen.
A proudly mature woman who’s circled the block more times than she’d care to admit, Kerrie doesn’t shy away from life’s messiness—or her characters’. “I...
Manifesto The Great comes from a dynasty of leaders who treat women like breeding machines. When his forefather dies, he must take over as leader, but will he be able to control the women?
Planet Hy Man is a planet as pure as a baby’s belly button until a spaceship arrives full of celibate men and women hungry for all things ‘earthy’.
Manifesto The Great rules Planet Hy Man, a Planet where meat is as toxic as nuclear waste. Faced with an uprising, Manifesto The Great turns to the only person he can trust----his mother; but she has days to live.
With an army of malfunctioning Mae West robots and a committee as innovative as a sock puppet, Manifesto The Great loses control. And...
Planet Hy Man’s future lay in the hands of two women as ruthless as a cock in a cockfight, but only one can rule.
Bette, an ex-cleaner with a love for order, is grimly hanging onto her leadership. Champing at her heels, rewriting history is Beryl, a woman so ambitious she has rewritten Planet Hy Man’s Geographic——Manifesto the Great’s legacy....
Pete is a robot who spent some time on Earth his diaries are as indescribable as Trump but hopefully, make more sense.
Men In Overalls
An overall is like a strapless handbag, there is a pocket for everything.
Thanks to a bump on the ferry from a van driven by (as Don put it) a geriatric reversing with her reading glasses on Don’s car had been bashed within an inch of its life.
And Don, swearing like Bunnie on the wrong side of a hangover, insisted on visiting the ‘lads’- a squad of mechanics who...
A five-part comedy-saga of three elderly men and the women who inspired them to strip down to their Long Johns.
The Three Amigos
The Three Amigos were three seventy-something men who fed up with bingo, lunch clubs with piss-weak tea, and queues at the Co-op had decided they wanted more.
What that more was they had no idea until they, under the influence of a pretty decent malt spied The Back Street Boys on TV.
It was back in the good ole days, when blogs were still read, kindle books were a mere...
Peering at me through a downpour with a ‘let me in’ look. Like that’s going to happen.
I started pulling faces at him when Hubby was at work, fell asleep, and woke to three faces scowling at me. Was I dreaming? Am I paranoid? I don’t know but lets just say my car was covered in bird shit…
And I just had it washed.
Pete’s Memoirs
Join me in looking at the world through the eyes of an android called Pete, and discover his past along the way.
That’s five hours of driving — long enough to make arguing over the TV remote as remote as he is. I’ve done the trip so many times I know every decent coffee shop and loo with toilet paper stop.
It’s the sort of distance where the thrill of conjugal rights rises, then falls somewhere around Crianlarich (a third of the way in). By the time I’ve made it halfway through the latest P.G. Woodhouse audiobook, I’m lucky if I’m up for a walk, let alone anything else.
The May sunshine has given me a heat rash, more freckles than necessary and a spurt of weeds that require the digging of an archaeologist; not to mention bird shit. There is enough on my car to fertilise a few pots and enough on the window to make me get out cleaning equipment, which haven’t seen the light of day since lockdown.
As I write this I am staring out of my loft window at an elderly seagull staring back at me, like it is my fault there is bugger all to eat. He has been there for...
