conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide a description for a book titled The Fathom Flies Again about Wink, Hailing, Great with the genre: Literature & Fiction, British & Irish.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Hailing from the mystical isle of Great Britain, the author is an author who prefers his reality banana shaped. His debut novel, The Forty First Wink, released through Ragnarok Publications in 2014, scuttles gleefully into this bracket, with a blend of humour, fantasy and the unusual. A clutch of follow up work, both short and long (including books two and three in the Wink trilogy) are in the offing, and have a similar demented flavour. When not writing, James is partial to a spot of singing, the odd horror movie or ten, and is a circus-trained juggler.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Fathom Flies Again
  Wrinkles clapped his hands approvingly. "Good for you, pitching in and helping the war effort." He beamed, a smile that would have given any dentist within a ten mile radius nightmares for weeks. "I'll show you where the troops are converging, but you'll have to leave your...friends here." He eyed Kate and Marty cautiously, apparently offended by their lack of outlandish colors and greasepaint.
  Perhaps once in a lifetime, when the planets are in alignment, and the words in his head formed a magically relevant sentence, did Oaf pull a blinder, and this was that moment. he basked in the glow of this crystalizing miracle, as several eyes turned to add to the glow with a mixture of surprise and awe.
  The crew stared after the departing clown blankly. "Should we...should we go after him?" Whipstaff ventured.
  Timbers was already trotting away in pursuit. "What else are we going to do? Stand around looking like the lost and found box at Chuck-E-Cheese?"
  Whipstaff glanced down at himself. He had forgotten for a moment that they were decked out in clothes that would make a seventies glam rock star embarrassed. He motioned to Oaf to follow, and scampered off after his captain.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: With another gushing whoosh, the lifeboat arced up into the heavens, and angled out of sight beyond the thin light that the moon was casting.
  Back on deck, Kate resumed her pacing, and Marty joined her. "We should be getting in there." She motioned towards the imposing tent before them. "Oaf lent me his mallet, and I think it's time I got to using it." She was already moving towards the gangplank as she outlined her vengeful intentions. "Let's get moving."
  It was only a short scamper to the edge of the tree line, and beyond that, the vast canopy of the big top plumed up into the air, blocking out most of the thin moonlight that peeped through the clouds.
  Marty squinted out into the gloom, scanning for any sign of snapping teeth or errant juggling balls. "I don't think that'd help us very much, Timbers," he whispered. "We're not trying to get away from them this time, remember?"
  Kate was growing noticeably restless beside them. "Come on, you two. There's no time for munchies." Timbers raised a cloth hand to his mouth, shock pouring from his face.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last five paragraphs.. End with the sentence ' Since there was no available qualification in talking lion taming or ice sculpture, he settled for a much more humdrum degree in something vague but practical, and set out to find a talking lion to make an ice sculpture of.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Marty was slightly disconcerted by the monotone emptiness of Timbers' words, but jumped aboard the creaky bed nonetheless. Clown beds seemed to be no more than a plank of wood with a sheet over them, but they served a purpose, and that purpose soon arrived under cloak of night.
  Timbers looked up at Marty, who was also jostling with an unseen limb. He winked, and familiar pirate mojo sprang forth from his tiny face. Timbers had a plan, and an even bigger purpose. "What is it we want?" he echoed to Marty, already knowing the answer.
  Marty released his grip on whatever the hell he was holding, and it slithered under the bed. He fixed Timbers with a look, which told the little pirate everything he needed to know.
  The crew dove beneath the frame of the makeshift bed, and vanished from sight. Marty took one last look at reality, and scrambled after his crewmates. He wasn't sure if Timbers had realized the other intention which flashed out from him, brighter than any evil koala could have mustered.
  Arriving in the rainy isle of Great Britain in the late '70s, James quickly became an enthusiast of all things askew. Whilst growing up in a quaint little one horse town that was one horse short, a steady diet of movies, '50s sci-fi and fantasy fiction finally convinced him to up sticks and move to Narnia - also known to the layman as Wales. Since there was no available qualification in talking lion taming or ice sculpture, he settled for a much more humdrum degree in something vague but practical, and set out to find a talking lion to make an ice sculpture of.