Footballers & authors…

Posted: May 26, 2012 in Publishing

It’s been a funny week. I got asked for a copy of my book by a premiership footballer. He said “I have heard a lot about your book and it is very funny. Sand me a copy and I will say I have read it and loved it.” So, let’s just get this straight. Someone who gets paid 1000’s of pounds a week, for kicking a ball around a field, wants me to send him my book… for free? Like I don’t have bills that need paying? Fuck that. So I replied, “Thank you. Unlike you, people don’t give me free shit. Until they do, you can fucking go buy one like everyone else.”  Why do these motherfuckers think they should get stuff for free?
It was pointed out that this was a mistake, good marketing opportunity wasted. A footballer that reads? Really? Nobody’d believe that.
However, there are some in the literary world who are quite relieved that ‘Malice in Blunderland’ hasn’t done a ’50 Shades of Gray’ and gone stratospheric. There are plenty of haters of me and my book, but it’s not them. It’s the people who make good money, getting celebrity endorsements, author forwards and reviews contacting me in the droves. You can buy your way into the important reviews and score column inches in the best websites and magazines. Fuck that. One sent me a review by a celebrity, who hasn’t even read or probably even heard of my book. I hate that fake shit. What was worse is it said: “The funniest book I have ever read, I literally laughed my head off!” I thought about sending them the book and paying the huge fee. Then going up with a hack saw and cutting that cunts head off. As I have it in writing that the book made his wank-head fall off!  I have an alibi.
I hate it when someone says ‘Literally’ and the follows it up with something figurative. ‘I literally laughed my head off’’ – utter wank.
“He literally jumped at the chance.”
“Did he? How far did he jump?”
“Well he didn’t actually jump…”
“Well don’t say literally then you fucking moron – that’s what literally means!”
The buying love isn’t what ‘Malice in Blunderland’ is about. It’s not what I’m about. Obviously, I’d love the book to be a success, but I don’t want to buy it! If I wanted mainstream rewards I’d have written a more mainstream book, but I’m not a mainstream person. What I wanted was people to laugh. And they have. Job done. For some reason comedy books get a shitty old time. Especially ones with content like mine. However I’m not going to buy or bullshit peoples love for it. It’s just a fucking book. It’s a bit like when people do things for charity. Don’t get me wrong, I love charity and do a lot myself on the animal front. What burns my toast is when people do something they have always wanted to do, and get you to pay for it, in the name of charity. ‘Yahh, I’m doing a skydive in Arizona for deaf kids’ Fuck off, you just wanted to go sky dive and couldn’t afford it. I’d rather they be honest. I’m having a threesome in the playboy mansion with two Brazilian models for breast cancer’ by the way.

I’ve been having so much fun with the book. The people making the film with me are fucking epically cool. This May I have been giving my book away. Hidden in places with instructions: Read it, laugh, then email me a picture of you with it and give it to someone else. Laughter is still free. As I write this, I’ve been reading Jonathan Franzen in the Guardian, shitting on, again, as to how tough being an author is? He did a question and answer session, and then complained about being asked questions! Then does a long article he called a ‘lecture’ about how and why he hates questions. Don’t fucking do Q&A’s then you drippy cock. Fuck me. You don’t have to read one of his books to want to kill yourself. Reading his article I found myself taping a plastic bag over my head. It is a little known fact, you can get time of work for depression as a result of reading his shit. Complaining of how he was a bit broke and in a shitty marrige. Yeah – my fucking nose bleeds for you. That is normal, not hard. Try going without food for days and eating out of bins, cos your homeless at the age of 14. Wife? At one point, the only relationship I had was wanking over the guy in a kilt on the front of a box of Quaker oats, cos if you squinted – it looked like a chick. Pretty much my life has been about as pleasant as a cock flavored lolly. I still find shit to laugh at. I feel privileged that anyone would want to ask me a question, and blessed if they love my book. Someone tell that Franzen motherfucker to cheer the fuck up.

If the literary world worships that kind of self loathing, fuck em. Honestly, I’d rather be unsuccessful and make some folk laugh, than a successful whiney fuck like that.

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Comments
  1. You mean it isn’t a bird on the front of the Quaker oats box…FUUUUUUUUU!!!

    And here’s me thinking I couldn’t hate footballers anymore! What a twat! (The footballer not me, although it has been mentioned from time to time).

    Cracking post, I literally shit my pants reading it…literally.

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