I hate when I’m reading someone’s blog, and they start off by apologising for not having updated it in a while. Like anyone even noticed, bitch! It’s up there with Jedward using the phrase ‘our fans’, the second time they appeared on television; or celebrities from twenty years ago having a comeback, but saying ‘Well to be honest, Terry: I never went away.’ Yeah, David Van Day from 80s pop titans ‘Dollar’; you were always Top Five in my myspace friends.
I’ve been busy; apparentz. I just made up ‘apparentz’. It’s okay for me to do that; Tim Burgess from The Charlatans is about fifty, and he pretended to invent ‘Totes Amazeballs’ this week. Possibly in reaction to the Stone Roses reunion. Anywhich, I han’t been blogging, ’cause I was actually writing the book. Yes, I know it’s usually the other way round. I’m often doing anything but writing the book. I say ‘anything’, but most of it comes under the broad umbrella of ‘wanking’. I have also been wanking into an umbrella. And by ‘umbrella’, I mean ‘The Qur’an’. See? Bit of politics; for the dads.
The book is flowing so smoothly now, that the inevitable has happened: the later chapters are so good, they’re making the first one look like it was written in crayon. In the dark. On a roller coaster. By Michael J. Fox. We’ve picked out the perfect agent, and I’m very keen to impress. So I’m going to gut the first chapter, and chuck out the chintz. I have actually used the word ‘chintz’ more than seventeen times, so that will be the first thing I chuck out. Apart from all the times I used the N word. As a verb.
I am writing this on a bus, which is running late, because the driver seems to have eschewed our archaic Twentieth Century methods of telling time; preferring instead, his own method of cutting open the belly of a live swan and bathing (trouser-less) in the blood and entrails. Hence the three minute delay. And the smell of colon.