Tag Archives: Mark E Smith


WHERE ARE THE THINKERS? is the latest item to be published by Post-Nearly Press.

SOLD OUT – but please see here

The fifth book in the Post-Nearly Press conversations series is STEWART LEE – Where Are The Thinkers? The item is original, print-only, and limited edition.

Stewart Lee gives an engrossing and strikingly open account of his stand-up and writing career, his craft, and his cultural influences — with discussion on Alan Moore, Andrew Kötting, Iain Sinclair, Mark E Smith, Derek Bailey and others.

26 double sided pages of original content; stab-stapled; mixed texture paper; original colour cover; cut short of A4.

If you’d like to order, email postnearlypress@gmail.com or go straight on to a transaction described below

UK: PayPal GBP 8.75 to postnearlypress@gmail.com (includes postage). Please include the delivery address on your transaction details.

Not in UK: please email postnearlypress@gmail.com  for postage costs.

Alternative payments such as a direct bank transfer or a UK bank cheque can be arranged – please email to enquire.





Thrilled and delighted to announce that the fourth edition in the Post-Nearly Press conversations series will be the great ALAN MOORE and Cometh The Moment, Cometh The Mandrill. As usual it’s from a live, face-to-face conversation, and will be a print-only, limited edition item. Scheduled for January 2017 release.

The range of work covered by Alan is vast and utterly compelling, from St Pancras Panda to Jerusalem via topics as diverse as Mark E Smith; Ballard; Moorcock; a journey from the Arts Lab to Apollo, by way of The Boroughs.

Huge thanks to all those who have taken such a great interest in the series so far. Below is a brief, slightly edited extract from this new edition, with Alan discussing a recent performance as our titular mandrill…


We’ve all got our apocalypses in our heads haven’t we? And in times of a political vacuum, that’s when you get monsters emerging. Tyrants. Dictators. So if it’s a cultural vacuum, maybe you can have some sort of totalitarian art fascist emerge. And it would probably be a mandrill. The mandrill is the most beautiful and terrifying thing in creation; a baboon with a devil mask. I saw some footage of a leopard stalking in the long grass, creeping up on a mandrill that was sitting with its back to camera. The leopard must have made a noise. The mandrill suddenly turned round, and you could see the moment when the leopard realised it had made a really huge mistake. The mandrill was after it, with those beautiful blue flashes on its face, the teeth bared. So the dictator I imagined would be a mandrill. At the end of the gig, the compere is about to introduce the next act when a bunch of black-clad paramilitaries get onto the stage, cut the throat of the presenter, and announce we are now under mandrill law. At which point a siren goes off; the lights flash, and I enter – I’ve been hiding upstairs the entire gig – wearing a beautiful three-quarter length satin frock coat, with golden boots with wings on the heel. My strategy was to have different costumes and eventually accumulate a brilliant wardrobe. So I took to the stage as a mandrill. Fully made up. It worked pretty well, I have to say. I was a pretty good mandrill.