I’m writing a book. It’s called “The Squatters”. That’s not a working title. That’s what it’s called. It’s loosely, erm, no, tightly based upon one summer of my childhood. Except that all of the facts have been exchanged for other ones. It’s about a rite of passage from childhood to adolescence, and everything that is lost along the way. I’m not sure whether it’s a childrens’ book or an adult’s book. Probably a childrens’ book with long words (only not like the interminable Artemis Fowl) or an adult’s book with short ideas. And it will be fucking excellent. You might say “you would say that”, only I wouldn’t say that. I would have said it would be very mediocre, only for some reason it won’t.
Anyway, all that is irrelevant seeing as I’ll never finish it. I haven’t even started it yet. Just had a long walk where lots of memories merged with ideas. I’m depending upon you, my audience, to hassle me into actually doing it.
Do it NOW or I shove a ten feet wooden pole up your arse. This “its a great book but its not even materialized yet” nonsense makes me nervous.
Before you make idle threats, you should consider that I may _enjoy_ having a ten foot wooden pole up my arse.
If it’s this great before it’s even materialised, just imagine how great it’ll be once it has!
Stop faffing about and “Do It!”
… or me and Jan will shove something up your arse that you _won’t_ like!
Just DO it.
… or I will shove both Jan & Phil up your arse.