Well, at long last John 'Spanky' Rickards has finished reading BROKEN SKIN. And right away I can see the kind of reaction this book is going to get when it comes out in May: shameless tittering and low-brow innuendo. Pah! Pah! And thrice more, Pah! I say.
It's my own fault for writing about bondage, I suppose. And mentioning bottoms a lot. And all that sex... Hmm, maybe not the best of mixes for a quiet life when it comes to getting the book reviewed.
I can pretty much see the kind of thing that's going to hit the papers (should any deign to review such a smutty book) -- it'll either be 'puerile, filled with toilet humour and tasteless gags', or... Actually, I think that'll probably be about it. And then everyone will make the magic assumption that far from being the nice, wholesome beardy boy that I am, I'm actually a sexual degenerate who likes to get tied up and spanked. Which just isn't true, I'm a model of propriety me. Made of sexy, sexy Plasticine...
This is the problem with writing about 'bumping uglies'. You can kill people in any number of bizarre ways in your books and no one will look at you funny. But have two of them bonking and everyone goes, "Oooh, I never knew he was into that kind of thing!"
Bah. Can you say "Career suicide"? Stuart can.
Still, Mr Rickards (blessed be his tiny wee hairy chin) did proffer the following blurbitude:
And don't worry if you only have clean, or even moderately grubby money -- you can easily turn it into the filthiest of filthies by rubbing it into the hairy gunk that collects underneath your sink! Or sellotape it to the underside of your extractor fan then fry a lot of bacon. Stick it in your underpants and wear the same pair without washing them for about a month. Or staple it to your dog -- that'll get it nice and filthy. Or even better: hand it to a politician. You might never get it back, but if you do it'll never feel clean again.
See: we're all about the practical advice here at Casa Del Halfhead.
Labels: Broken Skin, writing