Apathy Jack writes:
Listen up, Internet: I’ve already been to the Coal Works and got your Christmas present, so it’s time you got mine.
Nicole Richie has just released her first novel, The Truth About Diamonds – a fictional tale about the daughter of a popular musician from the seventies and eighties.
Also, Pamela Anderson has released Star Struck, the sequel to her novel Star, the adventures of a blonde, large-breasted television actress. The sequel continues the fictional tale as the leggy blonde stars in a show about lifeguards and marries a bad boy rocker.
However, I can’t justify spending money on these things – If for no other reason than that I’d have to explain their presence to my flatmates. (And no, hiding them isn’t an option for two reasons: Firstly, they would doubtlessly be found during one of Ben’s regular “stocktakes” of my belongings, which he assures me are necessary for reasons of Homeland Security. Secondly, shutting the door, listening to make sure my flatmates aren’t coming down the hall, looking from side to side just in case and furtively pulling a copy of Pamela Anderson’s book out from under my mattress... I don’t want to be that guy.)
However, if The Internet got them for me as Christmas presents, then you’d be the weird ones. I wouldn’t be reading them because I was a literary pervert – I’d be reading them because you all are literary perverts.
Send my new books to the following address:
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