Cuntingly Stupid, Volume Three
Four Funerals & My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding (what? What?), or, Manni Nix Kekker Rokke:
Roman à clef (or should that be Roma à clef? No? Suit yourself) following a frantic, comic & entirely stereotype-free six months in the life of {trying not to name one of my actual cousins}, a failing writer, as he shares the ups, the downs, & the, er, in-betweens of life as a Rom in Modern Britain (TM).
Thrill! As his teenage cousin's wedding is on, then off, then on, then off... Then on again, except now they're only going to give everyone seventy-two hours notice, in case the little shit she's marrying has another change of heart!
Laugh! As {insert name here} tries to chat up someone at aforementioned wedding!
Squirm! As he realises that the person he's chatting up, is, in fact, his first cousin!
Cringe! As he tries to fuck her anyway!
Sigh! As the protagonist's modern values (he's over thirty! & doesn't have twelve kids! & aspires to a white-collar job!) rub up against the Old Ways of his family, causing much embarrassment, emotional pain & distress to all!
Cry! As his massively aged relatives drop dead one by one, & the massive clan slowly dwindles...
Will the protagonist come to his senses, move back into a vardo, marry one of his teenage cousins, & start the job of repopulating his race? Or will he find some way to squirm out of it? Find out, in Four Funerals & My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding, coming 2012 from Hodder & Stoughton.
PS: Richard Curtis, you can have the film rights, but it'll cost you your bollocks. Not a euphemism for a load of cash, Richard, but really: your bollocks. Both of them. On a plate. With a nice side salad.
Roman à clef (or should that be Roma à clef? No? Suit yourself) following a frantic, comic & entirely stereotype-free six months in the life of {trying not to name one of my actual cousins}, a failing writer, as he shares the ups, the downs, & the, er, in-betweens of life as a Rom in Modern Britain (TM).
Thrill! As his teenage cousin's wedding is on, then off, then on, then off... Then on again, except now they're only going to give everyone seventy-two hours notice, in case the little shit she's marrying has another change of heart!
Laugh! As {insert name here} tries to chat up someone at aforementioned wedding!
Squirm! As he realises that the person he's chatting up, is, in fact, his first cousin!
Cringe! As he tries to fuck her anyway!
Sigh! As the protagonist's modern values (he's over thirty! & doesn't have twelve kids! & aspires to a white-collar job!) rub up against the Old Ways of his family, causing much embarrassment, emotional pain & distress to all!
Cry! As his massively aged relatives drop dead one by one, & the massive clan slowly dwindles...
Will the protagonist come to his senses, move back into a vardo, marry one of his teenage cousins, & start the job of repopulating his race? Or will he find some way to squirm out of it? Find out, in Four Funerals & My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding, coming 2012 from Hodder & Stoughton.
PS: Richard Curtis, you can have the film rights, but it'll cost you your bollocks. Not a euphemism for a load of cash, Richard, but really: your bollocks. Both of them. On a plate. With a nice side salad.