Robert McCluskey

McCluskey was born and raised in the mill towns of East Lancashire, back when the chimneys still coughed out smoke and the rain had a personal vendetta. Shaped by red-brick terraces, chip shop tea, and the stubborn optimism that comes from generations of people getting on with it, his writing is soaked in the dry humour and heartfelt honesty of his roots.

A father of three (all still claiming to be his), Rob is a writer who dances with the daft, flirts with the profound, and occasionally trips over the serious. His work mainly focuses on the quirks of everyday life — the tiny, inexplicable details that most people walk past without noticing. Whether it's the mysterious appearance of odd socks, the laws of toast that always lands butter-side down, or the sheer human absurdity of assembling flat-pack furniture while sober, Rob has a knack for finding comedy, pathos, and truth in life’s overlooked corners.

Much of his non-fiction output is powered by the endless patience (and occasional sarcasm) of his long-suffering researcher, Emma Sterling. Together, they’ve created a bestselling series of irreverent books that serve as part journal, part social commentary, part accidental therapy session.

While best known for this wry and sideways take on the world, Rob is also knee-deep in a new creative challenge: a series of young adult novels set to be released in 2026 and 2027. These works blend science fiction, emotional depth, and speculative technology with the same warmth and wit that characterise his non-fiction — but with fewer fart jokes. (Not none. Just fewer.)

A self-described "committed but not very good" Christian, Rob’s faith bubbles gently in the background of his writing — never preachy, often confused, and occasionally shouted at the sky while sitting on a wet camping chair at 2am. He believes in kindness, grace, and forgiving yourself for being a bit crap now and again.

When not writing, Rob is known to "play" guitar, which largely involves holding it while talking to people and occasionally strumming in the wrong key. He’s an enthusiastic supporter of extended nights under canvas, ideally beneath a sky full of stars, surrounded by half-cooked sausages, whispering foxes, and the lingering scent of damp socks. It’s there, in those quiet hours between the last campfire spark and the first dew, that he comes up with his most inspired (and most irritating) ideas.

Happily divorced and living with a highly opinionated cat, Rob remains a keen observer of human behaviour. His home doubles as an office, studio, laundry, and battlefield of thoughts, with one half occupied by semi-respectable grown-up tasks, and the other half colonised by posters, books, late-night scribbles, and enough coffee to panic a small village.

He is fond of curry that tries to kill him, old music that still knows how to cry, and conversations that start with "I’ve got a weird question..." His friends — and his readers — describe him as brutally honest, uncomfortably funny, and, occasionally, annoyingly right about things.

Rob McCluskey writes because he can't not.

It's either this or shouting at clouds.

And they never write back.