Booky Wook 2. [antikvár]

'Chapter / LIKE \ ROLLII\G STOKE Fame was bequeathed to me by the lips of an angel After all my years of rancid endeavour, I was granted fame by Kate Moss's kiss. I was born to be famous, but it took decades for me to convey this entitlement to an indifferent world and suspicious job centres - both presumed me a nitwit, possibly with good reason as I was brilliantly disguised as a scruff-bag. Being anonymous was an inconvenience to me. My well-meaning chum John Rogers would offer kindly, useless consolations - "Do you think you'll like famei* You won't be able to go to supermarkets." "Oh, please!" I mockingly responded. "No more supermarkets? Next you'll be telling me I'll be incessantly pestered by sex-thirsty harlots yearning to massage me out of my agony. That vainglorious sycophants will clamour to yawp odes of awe and wonder into my wealthy fizzog while fertile accolades and praise will avalanche the fields of my barren esteem, where now only bedraggled ravens hungrily drum the wretched dirt." I really wanted recognition.