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Homo Not-So-Sapiens –  EdZilla Rules for a start

Life goes on. In between planning the downfall of Homo Not-So-Sapiens, or at least his trousers, EdZilla continues to treat me like a slightly backward, albeit possibly gifted, nine year old.

She might even laugh at my pathetic jokes before she slips the knife into yet another of my pure-dead-brilliant hot sex/wild violence scenarios. Yeah. Right. We’re just getting down to it with homo erectus,(more of an erectione than erectus if you get my drift). The bit where the hero shags the gerbil stays; maybe…

My vacuum sucks … (for Scotland)

Flushed with my recent triumph over the Dyson (I can open the rubbish trap now!), I was labouring under the illusion that I knew how to work the stupid computer thing. Until it didn’t. Then Mac turns up, presses a few tits, and the whole shebang starts to work. Even unto the printer who, up until then was doing a bloody good line in Trappist Monk impersonations. Bastard! [Mac or the machine? or both? EdZ]
But when not grappling with Turd Millennia technology I am working out the details of the sixteenth book, ‘The Quick and the Dead’, which involves an asteroid – of which I know half of bugger all, divided by two. So, for verisimilitude, I started looking on the web thing for things spacey. And found everything needed – ‘The Sky at Night’ meets ‘Pigs in Space’. Except the printer refused to work – even after threats of some fairly excessive violence – so I had to take notes. But at least it’s all there … unlike my gonads if Edzilla gets her hands on me after reading my latest work.

libidinis in libris multa gratis

All my books may involve mindless violence and casual sex, but that doesn’t mean it’s gratuitous. Oh dear me no. It’s integral to the plot. No. Honestly. And, it’s aimed at both a male and female audience. 

Nowadays there are more than enough women who have the balls to admit they actually enjoy strong stuff; in between shedding the odd tear for the tragic hero still haunted by his ghost, ‘Maggie’. Or do real men not have ghosts who creep up on them just when they think they’ve got it all together again?

Fluffy toys and older men

But Edzilla may have had a point about the vulnerable mid-forties divorcee with the radio on all night and the collection of fluffy toys in the spare bedroom. Apparently they’re not actually there to provide light relief for older men. And, obviously, I never suggested that anyway, since if I did, she’d have felt duty bound to carry out a goolyectomy without anaesthetic.  Sick cow.
And, she says, can I please f******-well stop banging on about the size of their bosoms? [See you do, and stop misquoting. EdZ]
by John J McCabe
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