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| another pink un? |
After almost a decade spent basking on the shelves, downwritefiction's Summer Book Bitch is back with six all new titles compulsory spooling on the Musk Implant Reader©. Plus extras…
Also Rans in the Artificial Cheese Award:
by
Chicken O’Hooligan
Another stunning topographic romp along the contours of cartographic suspense, this time taking the reader (sic) on perilous dives from their garden's end to the undergrowth of Simpleton’s Crotch. In the franchise that never stoops to Googleplex, one wonders just how long the bot can go on delivering geographic intelligence of this calibre. Digital text includes the option to Autoread with freak ribs, pop-up spoilers, and GoTo Cheese buttons. Complete with choice of seven weird and five nonsense endings, eleven Sex and Violence settings and an Ex Midlands vintage holiday coupon.
The Soxicologist
by
Snerpy Doodah MP
Further poisonous snacks from the stubby pencil of Constable Doodah, The Soxicologist is a three course novella with bald sexism, coy nudity and a wondrous digestive tract. Unsuitable for teenage environmental terrorists, featherweight politicians and blatant squares of all shape and size. Come and vomit with us under the bridge in the dark. Contains a free Palace of Westminster security pass.
By
Ricco Shea
Not a very catholic book, written on the back seat of a London cab during two world wars, printed in North East and South West Looe, published by Albie Dammed, sold down the market in Nu d’Orleans, publicity by Predictable, cover photograph by Telly Kenesis, blurb by Slurdis Wurtz, sponsored by The British Crime Safety League, and taxed by the US Gov. Other than that, it’s a fairly standard foot-shooting tome which will appeal to most lovers of the genre.
by
Penguin Bucks
A sweltering heatwave typeset in Cobalt Crude, it relates the fable of Neville Shutt, an unassuming doorman from Dorchester, who is roped in by his nemesis/false friend Peter The Saint. Together they stagger across the dried up bed of the South Atlantic towards the Great Antarctic Plateau with little more than a few tins of pilchards and a sixpack of huskies. Will they ever reach the summit of their goal, or Go To Gaol without stopping for a Jimmy? Don’t read this book! It’s not a book. It’s the collected betting slips of a demented doorman on MDF. Gateway to the pearls of Mars. Exit straight into the jigger. Black hole of nearby Cluster Galaxy XXXIVa.
by
Klint Sadvocation
You won’t find Sausage Water on the Moon, or posted under Main Battle Tanks of WWII, nor caught sleeping on a bench in the Shoreditch Old DHSS Office. The Sausage Water is truly elusive, though only offensive to true Russian oilygarchs. Running through the usual suspects takes time, but tedium is avoided by a frequent guzzling of cocktails and always having herds of cows to milk. Nor can you claim this is a book about nothing without the risk of being sued by AN Author, which is part of its bleeding charm. No need to lie on a bed of nails or indeed to darn your smelly foot-sex. Intelligent, artificial, surreal, porridge with gravy, what more do you want on a Tuesday morning in the rain?
Disposable Housewives
by
Zantium Tcheaze
Augmented insanity minus the Pope’s official opinion on everything from the curse of winter tyres to debt celebration clocks. With gogo-stop-stop-go animations and a soundtrack by The Steelyard Boos, plus Pippa Plughole on flags and plaques, Disposable Housewives rocks but never rolls. For gods shaken not shared, chapter by chapter each episode slightly differs from the frames of a Moron’s Glamour Frieze: peeling wallpaper, screeching axles, and all the fun of falling off the planet. Comes with Green Dustbin Stamps.
Extra Extra Extras…
Last Year’s Winner of the Artificial Cheese Award
by
Cowboy Jane
The Deadwood Stage it ain’t, tho’ no calamity there, for what constitutes the film parallel, two-tone text on canvas? Show not your ignorance of The Great Unknown by reeling in this old canal bicycle with algae & testimonies of other summers wasted on the beach. Ho hum, so you’ve been here/there/everywhere before. So what? Haven’t we all. No? Read it again to understand less, fool. But this time, try the hardback.
And in throwbacks:
The Canton Pizzas
of
Zerox Quid
Published here for the first time in a single two-page volume, seven and a half recipes for pure water-chestnut-fed buffalo crap.
The Worst Land
by
TS Idiot
Connecticut or Maine is not the point. Martha’s Vineyard or Nantucket, who gives a peeking duck? Stick it up your sweat lodge, Babe. All the fun of the unfair to penguins brigade. And what’s more, there IS no Waste with this one; when you’re through, just throw it away.
Forthcoming Titles:
Sir Jimmy Riddle
is life by
P Sorff
From Ray to Ryan Gosling
A survey of Celebrity by
A Nonimus
Finger’s Cave
self-help (manual) by
Feelicks Meddlesome
and…
The Silly Isles
or Genealogy v. Geology
by your very own Zonk Pifflesquate
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| Not AI, then? |
