BTW I have received a memo from the author. He thinks I’m rushing things. Simon for instance spent a lot of time in a mews in Chelsea during the Swinging Sixties. That was before he settled down. I’m supposed to say something about that. I’m also supposed to inject a few more subplots including meetings with my old mates Oscar and Chuck Woww.
So I’m scanning the horizon one day and along comes this bloody great black schooner, black sails, skull and crossbones, the lot. Hallo I think, someone thinks he’s Johnny Depp. So I get the binoculars out and there’s this big bloke in the cockpit. Looks like some kind of mutant, some biker must off had it off with a sasquatch. Bald, huge gut on him and a big black beard down to his whatsit. Sort of bloke who keeps pythons for pets.
There’s something that looks like a cannon up the sharp end and a nude woman stowing a jib sail. Bloody hell! It’s Pamela Anderson! What’s she doing here?
Should I mention I’ve decided to go to BVI and have a look at Oscar’s treasure island? Just waiting for the right wind conditions. Might stop in at Haiti. Dominica’s sort of on the way too. The Dominican Republic I should say. Or Dominatrix as Oscar likes to call it. Nasty old sod. He likes being whipped by black girls.
That bit for instance is part of a sub-plot about pirates which may never be used. I put it in without the author’s permission because I’m bored. Let me know if you like it and I’ll try to sneak some more in.
You probably think all this is coming to some kind of climax right? Well maybe it is but the climax could be delayed for a long time. How am I supposed to narrate this stuff when they keep making changes? It’s the bloody author’s fault. And the Editor. We’re dealing with several interconnected lives here…lots of situations and characters and places…it’s one bloody thing after another. Starting to wonder why I took this job.
Right where was I? Ah yes…Arthur. Talk about boring. He married Lorraine and she had a baby that they named Cynthia. Lorraine’s father, Ernie, died soon after and Lorraine inherited the tobacconist shop. Which is why we find Arthur now sorting through boxes of Mars Bars and Golden Virginia. India is already fading into memory. It’s not a very exciting life but he doesn’t complain. Not good old Arthur. He pops up to London occasionally to see Simon other than that he knuckles down and keeps his nose to the grindstone, does a bit of reading. They have the odd day out in the Morris Minor on Bank Holidays and that’s about it.
So I’m scanning the horizon one day and along comes this bloody great black schooner, black sails, skull and crossbones, the lot. Hallo I think, someone thinks he’s Johnny Depp. So I get the binoculars out and there’s this big bloke in the cockpit. Looks like some kind of mutant, some biker must off had it off with a sasquatch. Bald, huge gut on him and a big black beard down to his whatsit. Sort of bloke who keeps pythons for pets.
There’s something that looks like a cannon up the sharp end and a nude woman stowing a jib sail. Bloody hell! It’s Pamela Anderson! What’s she doing here?
Should I mention I’ve decided to go to BVI and have a look at Oscar’s treasure island? Just waiting for the right wind conditions. Might stop in at Haiti. Dominica’s sort of on the way too. The Dominican Republic I should say. Or Dominatrix as Oscar likes to call it. Nasty old sod. He likes being whipped by black girls.
That bit for instance is part of a sub-plot about pirates which may never be used. I put it in without the author’s permission because I’m bored. Let me know if you like it and I’ll try to sneak some more in.
You probably think all this is coming to some kind of climax right? Well maybe it is but the climax could be delayed for a long time. How am I supposed to narrate this stuff when they keep making changes? It’s the bloody author’s fault. And the Editor. We’re dealing with several interconnected lives here…lots of situations and characters and places…it’s one bloody thing after another. Starting to wonder why I took this job.
Right where was I? Ah yes…Arthur. Talk about boring. He married Lorraine and she had a baby that they named Cynthia. Lorraine’s father, Ernie, died soon after and Lorraine inherited the tobacconist shop. Which is why we find Arthur now sorting through boxes of Mars Bars and Golden Virginia. India is already fading into memory. It’s not a very exciting life but he doesn’t complain. Not good old Arthur. He pops up to London occasionally to see Simon other than that he knuckles down and keeps his nose to the grindstone, does a bit of reading. They have the odd day out in the Morris Minor on Bank Holidays and that’s about it.
No comments:
Post a Comment