It seems that anyone can write a best selling novel these days.
All you need is a boy wizard, a vampire and/or a bit of smut and you have a sure fire hit on your hands.
With that in mind here is part of the first chapter of my half-hearted attempt to join the ranks of people who have done the least amount of work to gain notoriety in their field and free tickets to the latest box office smash.
I expect my invitation to appear on This Morning with Philip Schofield any day now…
50 lampshades of Grime.
Ada had been on her knees for most of the afternoon. Being a scrubber was no laughing matter for her as she was often found pounding away on all fours, working up a sweat and getting all breathy.
Her ample bosom heaved to and fro in an almost hypnotic fashion that stood Mr Chumley-Horton-Weaverly by surprise as he entered the bedroom chambers.
“Good grief!” he exclaimed.
Ada stopped cleaning the carpet and pushed herself up to meet Mr Chumley-Horton-Weaverly’s eyes.
“Cor Mr Chumley-Horton-Weaverley. Oi never not even sawed you comin’ in that there door and no mistake.” Ada was a very badly written cockney.
“Forgive me Ada, I had no idea that this room was currently occupied.” Spoke Mr Chumley-Horton-Weaverley in a manner of somebody who was also very badly written indeed but spoke in a manner more accustomed to that of gentry.
Ada found her eyes wandering from his gaze.
“Ah.” Said Mr Chumley-Horton-Wearverley. “I see you have spotted my massive sausage.”
“It is a huge piece of meat and no mistake sur.” Gasped the innocent yet somehow mucky minded serf.
“It is isn’t it.” Replied the man of the house who was not very good at innuendo or chatting up the ladies.
“hmm. I’m going to ask cook to heat it up for my tea.”
A very large and uncomfortable silence entered the room.
Neither of them could exactly remember what happened next but there was some undressing of clothes followed by fondling, some heavy petting and rather a lot of apologies and uncertainties. At one point Ada lit a woodbine she always kept handy for these situations whilst Mr Chumley-Horton-Weaverley exited himself after a rather clumsy moment of over excitedness followed by a brief and completely unnecessary amount of mashing of flesh.
“My my Ada. That was a thing without a doubt.” He said in place of anything dramatic or romantic.
“Suppose it was sur.” She mumbled. “looks like I’ll have to scrub that bit of the carpet again.”
“yes.” Mr Chumley-Horton-Weaverley blushed. “Sorry about that. It’s never happened to me before.” He quickly added.
Ada shrugged and got back down on her knees and
continued to clean the floor.
Mr Chumley-Whateverhescalled walked out and was never seen again… because…. Um… he was eaten by a wimpy vampire? Or an evil wizard cast a spell on him or whatever.
I can’t believe you are still reading this rubbish.