I did a bit more work on ‘transgressionata’ this afternoon. Created a dossier for my mmc and laid out a dossier template for all the places in the story.
I’ve also created a prologue – just a way into the story and the reader’s first introduction to the mmc (who still doesn’t have a name!)
The world’s getting crazier, though, one day at a time. Last week, two nutcases beheaded a complete stranger in the street then stood around yittering until the police arrived to shoot them.
And a goodly chunk of the great brutish public swallowed everything they said without question. If they’d said Justin Beiber told them to do it, no doubt Tommy Robinson and Nigel Farage would be calling for the expulsion and destruction of all the little girls in this country. And we’d be reading about arson attacks on schools – because that’s where the bastards congregate.
Believe it or not, both Farage and Robinson have agendas. And, since all human life originated in Africa, the sooner we get these fucking homo sapiens out of this beloved land of ours the better.
Rights for whites, yeah?
Woolwich has proved one thing – that there are no depths political pros will not sink to if they think it’ll gain them one more imbecile’s vote.
I can’t imagine what outliving one of my kids – or grandkids – would feel like. And to lose a child to a couple of fruitcakes who didn’t like her or his t-shirt is utterly mind-crushing. It makes no sense whatsoever.
But if I survived that, the sight of fascists capitalising on my private hell, trivialising my child’s death to push a twisted agenda, that’s enough to make me strap on a rucksack full of semtex and agree to address a big rally of nazis, nut-jobs and sunken foreheads.
now, why not read the novel that started it all? 1919 (inside)
Guaranteed – absolutely NO traces of horse DNA anywhere in this novel. And that’s the truth – or my name’s not David Cameron.