Today, we have three things to get out of the way.
Here's the second extract from Exit Through The Wound. I'm posting a video of me reading the first few paragraphs of chapter 17 and also copying the actual piece below, because you will probably not understand my accent. I sure don't.
On Tuesday I decide to go to work (trying out something new I guess), so I find myself on the tube listening to my iPod, and when ‘That’s When I Reach For My Revolver’ by Mission Of Burma turns into ‘Suicide Is Painless’ by the Manic Street Preachers on shuffle, I pretend this did not just happen, this is not just another sign telling me to fling myself under the eastbound Central Line train and, undeterred, I continue my journey into the office.
After a week away my inbox is full of client emails asking me to panic about inconsequential things so I duly ignore them and read the most recent message from Danny instead, which arrived only a few minutes ago: ‘Oh I see you made it in. You’ve been away for so long that I thought I’d never see you again. I won’t lie to you, I was starting to panic, especially as this is also Harper’s last week. In fact, I was so convinced I’d be left alone in this office that I spent most of yesterday writing obituaries for the two of you. Would you like to see yours?’
‘Maine Giannopoulos was born to a man and a woman on the 8th December 1985. He never knew his parents as they lived in a different wing of his house. His best friends growing up were Mehmet, a Turkish servant- boy, and Angelos, a friend visible to Maine and Maine only. Mehmet and Angelos took turns humouring Maine and his already nonsensical whims. Maine spent the early part of his adolescence performing stereotypical Greek activities such as growing facial hair by age 10, buggery and being the mooching scumbuckets of Europe. Maine’s life was transformed in his mid-teens with the discovery of ‘Britpop’, which turned a previously happy-go-lucky individual into a sullen manic-depressive. It was here that his Anglophilia began. On his 17th birthday, Maine met his parents for the first time and informed them of his plans to move to England. There, he transformed from a socially awkward, skinny sour-faced, asexual brat into a socially awkward, well-built, sour-faced drug addict. Other changes included metamorphosis of his name. On the day of his death (caused by a misunderstanding between him and squeeze ‘Sadie’ over the correct safe word, resulting in Maine’s suffocation inside a gimp mask), Alexandros Maine Giannopoulos (as his Greek family knew him) was officially known as Alexandros Maine Blake Hudson. Maine was never professionally fulfilled: he pursued a fruitless career in business consultancy when his real life aim was to work on a street corner in Lower Manhattan dealing hallucinogenics.’
‘That was hilarious, congratulations. You’re wasted here, although I suppose it’s not bad going getting paid – even the miniscule amount that you do – to sit at your desk and type gratuitous fantasy. Now tell me, what else did I miss?’
Here come the pre-order links. I’m signing all copies pre-ordered from the links below. (If you want. If you don’t…go crazy, I’ll leave yours unsigned).
Pre-order for the UK (£6 + &2.50 for p&p):
Pre-order for rest of the world (£6 + £4.50 for p&p):
We’re having a launch party for the book on Thursday the 8th September in London. You know what? You can come if you like. It’s at Charterhouse Bar (38 Charterhouse Street, Farringdon, London) at 1830.