Perhaps if I had a boob job…

That would get me top billing in the Daily Mail and I wouldn’t have to bother editing my first-draft rambles. I could just blurt out any old nonsense, write a book with no concerns about fact-checking or error-correction, take no notice of grammar or spelling rules, and have it in the shops by Christmas.

Would anyone buy it? I wouldn’t, but the Mail will hype it up as the most appalling waste of paper since the Great Repeal Bill and drones will buy it by the ton to see what all the fuss is about.

Then they will fill the comments sections of the Mail with moans about how they wasted their money on a book the Mail had already told them was not even useful as toilet paper. If you use it to line your hamster’s cage, the hamster will soon develop a drink and drugs habit, hide a gun in his cheek, shave gang symbols into his head and change his name to ‘Little Hairy Bastard’. I once had a hamster by that name. He didn’t like me, but then he didn’t like anyone. He once saw off a sheepdog. It’s a great pity they only live a couple of years, or he’d have his own ‘Grumpy Hamster’ page on YouTube by now.

More drones will see those ‘what a shite book’ comments and more copies of ‘A Dreadful and Pointless Ramble’ will sell.

I’d take the money, have the implants removed, gold-plated and mounted, then flee the country with a new name and a big bag of cash.

Then maybe become a proper writer at last.

I suspect this woman’s plan is somewhat different and is likely to involve spending the cash on flash crap and chav holidays while still expecting the taxpayer to cover her daily expenses.

But then, if a publishing house wants to give her a huge advance on royalties, that’s up to them. Maybe her book will earn out after all. There are plenty of idiots with money to waste.

I won’t help.

However, maybe I should see the doc about getting some chest-bumps fitted on the NHS. Then call the Daily Mail and say ‘Hey, you want to see these? You ought to, you paid for them’.

They will then search for something Outrageous or Terrible in all those stories and they will find it.

Even if it isn’t really there.

 

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19 thoughts on “Perhaps if I had a boob job…

  1. Just blaspheme against the peado prophet in one of the books and you too can become rich and famous. Although, you might need to keep out of sight.

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  2. Leggy – you could probably get a story anyway. You could be earning a fortune in your trained field, yet you choose to clean lavatories so as to pay as little income tax and N.I. as possible and to earn just enough money to pay the bills and buy inconceivable amounts of whisky while writing scary books by night and scaring gullible people with made-up stories by day.

    That’s more interesting than having a boob job. Ah, but there’s nothing much to get the Mail readers too uptight about (probably). You’d better get that boob job too.

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      • He went from being ‘Donald Potts’ (if memory serves), shovelling pig poo to having a chain of ‘Grot’ shops. Now it seems most retailers have taken to selling garbage as standard, but unintentionally.

        Is there an online gift retailer for buying presents for people you don’t like?

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  3. Here’s an idea for you to get your books in print: write an account of a visit, by a small child, to a future theme park about a now-defunct religion called Islam. Strange bunch of nutcases by all accounts, seemingly obsessed by hiding from the world (the men all had enormous beards, and maybe so did the women as they all used face veils). All dead and gone now, after the 21st century biotech revolution gifted them with cheap embryo sex determination, and they immediately only ever had male children and thus died out. The Great shirt-lifter plague, some called it.

    Alternatively, write a tale of alien invasion by particularly incompetent aliens who have hit upon a really neat way to hide in plain sight: pretend to be members of a particularly strange religion that nobody wants to offend, who all have really-easily faked beards or face veils. Only trouble is, in trying to emulate what is essentially complete nonsense, said aliens take it all a bit too far. Stuff like building a few bio-robots to go and commit acts of jihad (equipped with micro antimatter bombs, plus a load of hairspray and so on to muddy the waters a bit) and organising extremist preachers to shout at the local monkeys a bit. Said shouting makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, because the aliens in question simply do not understand religion and have little ability to dream up believable stories. They are in fact rather bemused by the entire concept of stories and fiction; they don’t lie to each other so make very, very bad liars and indeed tend to sound rather retarded to most humans…

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    • That would have to be self-published. No publisher would dare take it on.

      Unless the religion had a made-up name and forced women to wear a made-up silly outfit…

      I read somewhere (was tipsy and it was very, very late) that Catholic Potuguese used to make women wear a tent with eye-holes in. It’s nothing to do with any religion, it’s purely down to insanely jealous men. Might have been on The View form Cullingworth.

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  4. To improve on your idea, why not back-boobs? Then you would not only have notoriety but in addition you could complain about the unknown assailants who keep titty-twisting while your back is turned.

    If you let it be known that you suspected the ghost of that Savile fellow, your fortune would be pretty much guaranteed.

    The down side would be that, being in back and all, you couldn’t sit around and amuse yourself in idle moments. That’d be a pity. Just goes to show that every cunning plan has a silver lined cloud.

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