Monday, 22 September 2008

Chapter Four

I woke up from a dream in warm water with the magazine soppy over my wrinkled penis. I had been eating lunch with Jeffrey Archer. He salted potatoes and told me his ‘golden rules’. ‘No distractions’, he barked, continuing to salt the potatoes. He ignored my questions on ideas, character and setting, vigorously salting.
‘Jeffrey,’ I said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. ‘There has to be more to it than that. Tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.’
‘No distractions!’ he shouted and slammed the salt shaker down on the table.

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