When I first started this blog I
was adamant that I would force myself to keep it up to date, and would write
regular pieces to slap onto the net to maintain my profile in the world of
smut. So much for good intentions; it’s probably three months since I bothered
to post anything. This blog has become something like an exercise bike – you
start off doing thirty miles a day, but before long it’s in the attic gathering
dust with all your other crap.
So, what news is there to report?
Obviously it would be inexcusable on my part to fail to mention that our Prime
Minister once fucked a pig. It isn’t relative to anything, but it is a topic
that I feel should be regularly raised - right up until the day that dirty pig
fucker leaves office. And the next time the hypocritical son of a bitch passes
legislation outlawing the depiction of sexual practices in British pornography,
he should be reminded of his pork poking past, and told in no uncertain terms
that anyone who sticks his rod in a hog has no business whatsoever telling other
people what they can and can’t do with their genitals.
There’s finally a leftie in charge
of the Labour Party, and Wales are smashing it in the World Cup, but what I’m
really supposed to be writing about here is the release schedule for my upcoming
works, rather than Cameron’s predilection for slamming the ham. I should
therefore stop with the pig fucking puns and talk business.
I’ve just approved the final galley
for a short story entitled ‘Office Politics’, which is set to release on Nov 6th,
through MuseItHot publishing. It will be a quick read, consumable in roughly
the same amount of time as it takes a dignified statesman to slide his erect
penis into the waiting mouth of a hog roast. Oops, sorry, I mentioned pig
fucking again. I promise I’ll stop it now.
After Office Politics comes out
I’ll be concentrating on the build up to the release of my second novel –
Leisure – which will hopefully hit the digital shelves before the end of the
year. I’m tentatively labelling Leisure as an erotic farce; publishers and
retailers love to pigeonhole books into genres, and anything that they aren’t
able to neatly compartmentalise gives them sleepless nights. Peeper caused
consternation among advertisers because it didn’t fit rigidly into any of their
tick boxes, but I’m hoping my next book will be a little more straight forward.
I can guarantee that there will be absolutely no pig fucking contained within.
Moving toward next year, I’m hoping
to have my fingers in a couple more pies (not pork pies). More news on that
score if and when it happens.
Oink oink.
