Wednesday, September 20, 2006
My Kind of Woman
I am indebted to the redoubtable Frank Wilson for drawing my attention to one Amanda McKittrick Ros. She is claimed to be the world's worst writer. I cannot agree. She described her critics as 'the auctioneering agents of Satan', a brilliant evasion of cliche and a sentiment I absolutely share. For no special reason, this reminds me that I must draw your attention to the fact that Jeffrey Archer's worrying silence persists. Nothing since September 14th.
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A blog about, among other things, imaginary ideas - What ifs? and Imagine thats. What if photographs looked nothing like what we see with our eyes? Imagine that the Berlin Wall had never come down. What if we were the punchline of an interminable joke? All contributions welcome.
Maybe our Jeffrey is rehearsing for his new daytime chat show? ...Well it's bound to happen isn't it?
ReplyDeleteNotif Richard and Judy have anything to do with it.
ReplyDeleteI imagine Jeffrey (accompanied by an adoring blonde bimbo) is on a top secret undercover mission of the utmost national importance. He will be unable to communicate anything about it, except in fictionalised form in another of his rattling good page-turners.
ReplyDeleteAnd now I' ve told you that much, I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill you.
I feel it encumbent upon me to offer myself as kind of substitute Jeffrey for those of us suffering from withdrawal.
ReplyDeleteI haven't made any blog posts in the last few days as I feel the wells of inspiration running dry. I hate to disappoint my legions of fans but damnit what's a few days of spiritual and literary impoverishment compared to the time I had to serve in the nick. Anyway I'm sure I'll be riding the crest of Inspiration's wave in the near future again.
But not yet. Still nothing from the Real Thing. I am convulsed with guilt, convulsed I tell you.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Bryan. I've always wanted to be called redoubtable.
ReplyDelete