Welcome to Castle Royenstein


Plate I: Not a selfie, but taken by my faithful, and entirely real, butler Igor.

About Me

As a writer, I am an author of fantastic multi-genre fiction, and a journalist working the pop culture and technology beat.

I am also the presenter of the splendid show known throughout the multiverse as Roy’s Rocket Radio: THE UK podcast for the pop culture geek, technology nerd, and creative media wizard.

About this Site

As well as being my blog, this site exists as a backup of all the stuff I wish to remain in the public eye; in case of death, or disaster. Yes, I do remember when the Dot-com Bubble burst, and yes, of course I get the irony of that last doomsday scenario if WordPress.com itself goes down. Hil-lar-ious.


I am a nomadic author, journalist, and presenter hatched in Saaf London, and warped by a steady diet of sherbet lemons, medically prescribed comic books (true), dirty grey rain, and chips.

During an eternity in higher education, I cobbled together a peculiar mixture of skills and a bewildering array of impressive certificates, diplomas, and licenses. I eventually left with a Masters Degree in computery related stuff, and transferable credits and research experience in robotics, natural science, archaeology, and… let’s just say that it’s the tip of an iceberg size mound of certification I keep in a steel filing cabinet to prevent conflagration. Quite honestly, we’d be here all night if I listed the bizarre mixture of things I can do. In fact, you could write an academic paper about my spaghetti-like educational trajectory.

Before turning Sith (writing), I worked a longish stint in IT and later the heritage industry. I have been a proper “have you tried turning it off and on again” techie, a pointy-headed boss, and even a museum curator. This employment, however, was not contiguous, but sandwiched between periods of working in every conceivable job you care to mention, and quite a few you would not, except astronaut, as my application was rejected by NASA, damn it (again true).

The only cool thing about my weird skill-set, is that I’m about this far (you’d need an electron microscope to see how far apart I’m holding my fingers) from being a bona fide sciencey time traveller. (Though admittedly, a daydreaming armchair time traveller with a highly developed sense of self-preservation).

As for writing; I have been a weekly columnist in a national broadsheet newspaper, and have written features, news articles, and opinion pieces for newspapers and magazines. As an author, I write genre fiction, which is ironic really because I started doing that a very, very long time ago. Ouroboros style career planning or wot? Other creative media things I do include script writing, copywriting, developing computer games, radio presenting, and podcasting.

As well as having extremely eclectic, not to mention esoteric (possibly even eccentric), tastes in music, film, literature etc., my spare time is occupied both above and below water, tinkering, and occasionally attempting the ascension to rockstardom.

Descent Diabolic & The Name of the Roy

I was born in England of Indo-Mauritian, Hindu Brahmin parents. I’ve also moved around a bit and have accumulated extra citizenships in Mauritius and Canada. Mars next?

But why, pray tell, you may ask, does a hindu chap possess the Anglo-Gaelic-Frankish-Norman derived forename Roy? Dad’s forename was supposed to be a “Rohit”, but the idiotic British colonial registrar’s ears couldn’t deal with something quite so Indian and just wrote “Roy” on his birth certificate. When I was born, Mum and Dad simply named me after Dad.

Regarding my surname “Mathur“, although my surname is not an English name, it is made up of two very simple syllables common to the English language, and is spelled phonetically. So, if you mispronounce it, that’s your problem. Don’t expect me to help you either, because I love watching people squirm. Go on, squirm. Ahahahahahahahahaha!

A Scanner Nerdly

Here are a few of my favourite things (and yes, I actually sang that line out loud):

  • Toob? Star Trek, Blake’s 7, Doctor Who, Babylon 5, Thunderbirds.
  • Flicks? 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976), Star Wars (1977), The Empire Strikes Back (1980), Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981), Blade Runner (1982), Big Trouble in Little China (1986), Inception (2010).
  • Jedi or Sith? Hmmm… Neither. Probably Solo, but without the smugness.
  • Empire or Republic? Republic!
  • Kirk or Picard? Kirk!
  • Doctor and Companion? Doctor? Tom Baker. Companion? Ace or… Leela? Hmmm… I’m conflicted, but I’ll say Ace, after all who can argue with Nitro 9?
  • Time Lord or…? Timelord? Pah! Let’s just leave it at “or” puny human.
  • Sartorial Inspirations? Throw Marc Bolan, Jon Finch’s Jerry Cornelius, and Boba Fett into a washing machine and spin. Vigorously.
  • Description of Self? “A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma”, encased in a conundrum, stuffed into a walnut. (Take that Churchill).
  • Superheroes? Spider-Man, Batman, Indiana Jones, Han Solo, The Question, Green Arrow, Garth, Vanth Dreadstar, Flash Gordon.
  • Supervillains? The Penguin, Ernst Stavro Blofeld, Ming the Merciless, The Mekon.
  • Anti-Heroes? Kerr Avon, Catwoman, Captain Nemo, Kane the Mystic Swordsman, Mister X, Elektra, Harry Palmer.
  • Tech? The personal computer is the best invention since the wheel.
  • Code? Loads, but right now C, Lua/LÖVE.
  • Martial Arts? Many, though currently Grand Ultimate Fist, and the terribly effective Way of the Spider. My special move is running away.
  • Acronym? KBN.
  • Lit? The Lord of the Rings, Dune, The Stars My Destination, Neuromancer, The Man Who Japed.
  • Tunes? Anything loud or weird and, of course, Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor—the admittedly clichéd choice of the discerning supervillain.
  • Yums? Ethiopian or Indonesian Arabica coffee, or Mauritian caramelised coffee, Roquefort in croissants, and Parisian chocolate ganache truffles heavily dusted with fine cocoa.
  • Alignment? Chaotic Neutral.
  • Peeves? Don’t get me started.
  • Faults? Massive, and completely justified, superiority complex.
  • Places? Curepipe, Mauritius, Mauritian beaches, the pyramids at Giza, and here.
  • Utopias? Iain M. Banks’s Culture.
  • Dystopias? The one where I rule you puny humans.
  • Dinosaurs? Triceratops.
  • HQs? An unnamed castle on the summit of Hell Mountain, in the Himalayan Kingdom of Garudastan (now a peripatetic Micronation claimed by the current location of my hat), a ruined mansion in Grand Cabaret, Mauritius, and a series of vessels all named Utopia.
  • Alias? I categorically deny that I am the tentacled, cybernetic, supervillain, rockstar from Dimension 27 known as “The Captain!
  • Location? Right behind you, sucker!


This grimoire was cerebrally concocted, cunningly crafted, and inspired by the unsurpassed elvish carvings of Far Away. Thence were these words hewn mightily from stone by these very sorcerous hands; wielding the finest, enchanted, dwarven-wrought instruments forged in hell-fire! Acknowledgements are grudgingly granted to the varied and sundry legion of humans, gnomes, trolls, ogres, giants, the great and terrible Roc, rakshasa, satyrs, nymphs, djinn, a couple of skin walkers, a really angry centaur and diverse other magical creatures and cryptids too numerous to mention who have, under a terrible geas cast beyond the mists of time immemorial, unwillingly toiled in this villainous endeavour.

And Just Before You Go…

That is as much as I can tell you without boring your pants off, but buy me a Betelgeusian Brain Buster and I’ll talk the hind pods off an Arcturan zingbat. If you can’t wait that long, feel free to rummage, but please mind the cabling, the carnivorous plants, and the giant wingèd thing.

You did read this far? Congratulations! When next we meet, you shall be rewarded with a scrumptious sherbet lemon.