Rolls of barbed wire - check. Aerial reconnaisance craft - check. Full SAS troop at the ready on nearby buildings - check.
That's right, I'm doing a book signing. And no-one's getting out of that shop without a copy of Please Don't Stop the Music, even the ones who only wandered in to see if their copy of 'Accountancy without Tears (Except for the Client's, Obviously)' was in stock. I've got the doors set to Emergency Lock, the Science Fiction section will be swarming with My Men, there will be Stormtroopers in the Children's department and I've got a plant in the Gardening section. I think I'm good to go.
Of course, if I wear full camouflage gear no-one will be able to see me, so I'm going for the full Author look (which any writer will confirm consists of corset, kilt and clogs, it's almost a uniform in fact). If this doesn't make me noticeable enough (and it might not, I can blend in you know. I didn't spend years in MI5...no, actually, come to think of it, I didn't spend years in MI5) I shall be wearing underwear almost unparalleled in its oddness. Which may mean that I can't sit down, but that's not a bad thing, right? Who wants their authors sitting down anyway? People want their authors to look dynamic, go-getting sort of people, you wouldn't want to buy a book from someone who looks like they sit around in comfortable underwear all day, would you? NO. You would rather purchase from someone who looks as if they suffer for their art, someone for whom spiked underpants and a gusset made of nylon is merely the tip of the iceberg of discomfort.
I'm not promising anything, just saying.
So, it's been a busy week, all in all. What with Please Don't Stop the Music being released on Tuesday and then having to spend the rest of the week getting four Army units into position and training up my friends in hand to hand combat; buying really nasty underwear and finding clogs to fit...well, you can imagine.
Anyway. Waterstone's, York. 2pm Saturday 12th of February. Make a note. It won't be pretty, but then, who is, in PVC underwear?
Blog Tour: Merde at the Paris Olympics by Stephen Clarke
#MerdeAtTheParisOlympics
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I’m the closing ceremony, if you will, on the blog tour for Stephen
Clarke’s Merde at the Paris Olympics. This seventh book in Clarke’s
bestselling series ...
1 year ago
5 comments:
I always thought you walked funny, and could have sworn that sparks flew out from between your thighs as they rubbed together, now I know why.
I am very much looking forward to Saturday when I will have my book signed by Yorkshire's answer to lady gaga.
Oh my! I'm exhausted just reading about your week. It's a wonder you've had time to write.
I am sending Special Squirrel Squadrons to usher in the book-buying wildlife of York from all streets within a 30-mile radius around the bookstore and also to ensure that once inside the shop, they keep their grubby paws off your PVC. Have a successful signing and thank goodness it's not in summer or you'd be sweltering!
I am off to design my very own Author Attire, which will keep me from writing for at least a week, I should imagine. It obviously requires a lot of thought...
Right, you're coming with me the next time I do one! Good luck with the signing Jane, although I'm sure you won't need it - not with the PVC any way!
Tracy, that is not my PVC knickers, that is my sexual dynamism causing those sparks.
Kath, all help gratefully received, but don't sent Squizzey, he nibbles the pages.
Chris, between the push-up bra and the PVC underwear, I am sure I will wow the crowds. Well, I'll wow something, anyway.
PVC knickers! Gosh, you might scare them away - better not flash them straight away.
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