specialbrewrants

6.0 ABV - My up and coming new novel - exclusive extract

Scheduled for late '05, my latest novel, 6.0 ABV, tells the tale of two self employed government workers, Bruce and JPH, who develop a Lager Concept that is free of the strictures of civilization.

Union Jack lager takes the country by storm by sponsoring such events as: In Pub Boxing Rings, the Drink and Drive Grand Prix and Live Lesbian floor shows in your Local.

In this exclusive extract ONLY available in specialbrewrants we take a look at the advertising strategy used to promote the U-J brand.

The scene setter clearly shows the famous BBC flagship program that claimed to offer a balanced view of politics, but subtly promoted a leftist/feminist/greeny pinko view of the world. The density of dungareed fuckers in the audience immediately makes it clear. You can almost smell the bum gland fluid soaked into trouser material smell of crusties just from the image alone.

“And it’s on to the next question to the girl with purple hair and the double nose ring…” drones the actor playing Dimblebore.

Pluta, spitroast champion, had demanded her acting break in recompense for services rendered.

“How do the panel feel about the demand that householders should have the right to kill burglars who enter their homes?”

"Over to Hilary Heston of the Lobor Party, one of the latest intake of Blur’s Babes."

“I actually find burglars quite sexy. Rough and ready men like them who don’t mind taking a risk turn me on. I kind of imagine him with a little goatee beard and a stripey shirt. If I found one in my nightie on the stairs - well, I can think of something else I’d rather do than shoot him."

The focus switches to a new harridan. It is clearly meant to be the Wicked Witch, Toby’s bitch, with her squiggle lipped mouth.

“It’s a question that needs to be resolved at vast taxpayer’s expense by the European Law Lords. My firm does a great deal of this kind of work and my advice to any burglar out there who’s suffered at the hands of a householder is to apply for legal aid and give my offices a call the number is on the BBC website.”

“…and what do you think JPH?”

JPH takes another swig of U-J Gold.

“I’ll tell you what I ferkin’ think.”

A hand held camera follows JPH as he traipses his way out of the ‘Time for a Question’ studio, down brick lined corridors. The fire door is pushed open to let in the daylight. Bruce is waiting outside at the controls of a Harrier Jump Jet drinking a chilled can of U-J.

JPH straps himself into the weapons officer position. They exchange a look that says there is no reasoning with these bitches. Finger meets button and the whirr of the jet engines is heard.
Back to the panel: they are interrupted in mid flow of bullshit as the Harrier crashes through the roof and hovers in front of the panel.

“Sorry to do this, but I’m probably a misunderstood product of my environment.” JPH muses, as he pushes the trigger.

The Gatling gun spat lines of death into the panel. The amount of special effects blood bags used must have been at an all time high. The whirring gun head spat out spent cartridges a la Matrix, but they were all painted to look like mini cans of U-J Gold.

The camera lingered as the Wicked Witch is butchered by the onslaught into stew sized chunks of meat.

JPH is not sure that would be enough. He devoutly wished that the electrons be removed from the nuclei of her atoms in the hope that evolution would never come up with such a monstrosity ever again.

Bruce span the Harrier on its nozzle jets. JPH took out the top row with the gun.
“This whole shelf seems suspect” he surmised a la Falling Down.

Falling Down was a great film, but the producers had lacked the guts to provide the ending that it warranted. The Michael Douglas character should have drilled the fuckin’ whore who divorced him through the brain before walking off into the sunset with his daughter. Bruce and JPH’s huge pile of cash had made sure the director of this commercial would never violate his sense of artistic integrity in the same way.

JPH readies the finger over the firing button for another burst, but Bruce flies up and away.
A whole row of NHS manageresses heave a collective sigh of relief as they are reprieved. Every one of the them was that kind of Bossy bitch who couldn’t wait to sue when they became pregnant, though why anyone would want to make them pregnant was another question.

Bruce has emergency boosted the Harrier to 30,000 feet. He corrects JPH.
“I think this whole city looks suspect.”

The mushroom burst took the entire city out a la Sodom and Gomorrah.

Cut to end scene

“Cheers mate.”

Shot of an arm handing JPH a pint of U-J, nicely chilled. Pan backwards. It is a severed arm in a nuclear wasteland.

Cue Slogan:
NO U-J. NO ANYTHING.

posted by gruad @ 9:17 pm