Book lovers: have some of the authors you have admired for so many years started to show unmistakeable signs that their heads have adjoured to a warm, sunny place up their own arses; have you heard muffled, lazily-constructed sentences from these exalted recesses to the effect that they like what they see and don’t care to withdraw any time in the forseeable future?
You are not alone! But wouldn’t you love to give them a piece of your mind, perhaps even – faint hope – penetrate the thick layer of self-regard that has fattened their heads, and just maybe shake them a little from their slough of complacency? Not from the comfortable redoubt of a book review or (god forbid) the sinecure of a literary column, but to their faces?
Hail
PolishBobStupak, making the literary world a better place, two writers at a time.
BONUS: Nastiest. Review. Ever. Forget who forwarded this to me; it was some time last year. When someone begins “This is the worst thing I’ve ever read” and still has 1,339 words of elaboration left in him, you know you are in the presence of pure, burning hatred.
1,400 words of bile. OMG, I can't wait!
Jesus BK, that picture of you creeps me out!
I know, it's fuking grouse, isn't it?
I read through the nastiest review EVER and really felt the reviewer's pain, then laughed myself sick.
I spotted the book in question on display in a shop the other day, and had to restrain myself running through the place shouting, "Look! It's a million pieces of shit!"