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Reminiscent of Barbara Cartland at her Best

by John Grant

My good friend J. Marie Knuckle (sister of my other good friend Dave, who is taking a brief respite in Folsom from the stresses of his business career) has recently been scathed by several days' attendance at the annual convention of the Romantic Writers' Association. In the wake of this she muttered something about my perhaps one day thinking of writing in the genre.

She should have known better. I'm always keen to seize on a good business opportunity.

I now proudly present my draft outline for what I believe to be the first full-blown romantic novel to be directed exclusively at the male market. I've done it under a pseudonym, of course, because I recently learned to spell that word and am using it everywhere I can.

World rights in this mind-numbing novel are available, so
PUBLISHERS!! — Hurry your offers of huge advances to my agent Leonie Strider (leoniestrider@aol.com)!


Draft outline for a male-interest romantic novel by

Dai S. "Bo" Ripper

[] SHE is Dolores, a fantastically beautiful, inordinately wealthy (mention Croesus here to display that romantic novels aren't just for thickoes but have a certain cultural cachet) sex maniac and belly dancer (stick in some stuff about her having an IQ, something like that). She has little to learn about the rules of the Game of Life, despite being only 18 (21 in some states) and a virgin. JADED by all her riches and maybe SATED by all the luxuries of the world, she takes a part-time job as a demure governess, even though her silly superficial friends laugh at her for it, preferring to pop each other's zits in time to their Britney Spears CDs instead.

[] HE is, er, Bo (I can change the name if the publisher so wishes), a somewhat scruffy, bearded, reclusive, plumpish 50something-year-old with no money and no apparent attractive features aside from his INTERNATIONALLY RENOWNED barbed-wire collection, about which he can talk at length and REALLY, REALLY INTERESTINGLY.

FEW CAN UNDERSTAND why DOLORES, with all the world to choose from, should be so interested in BO, but little do they know that he is also a wannabe romance writer of GREAT BUT HITHERTO UNDISCOVERED TALENT and a REAL TIGER IN BED (probably — I've still got to research this bit).

FROM PARIS TO LONDON TO BAHRAIN (sp?) the scene shifts, with all the GLITTER of extreme wealth and plenty of free booze and cigs for BO as DOLORES realizes she LOVES HIM ENTIRELY and lusts after him with AN EXCESSIVE LUST that can only be satisfied in 754 ways (I bought a manual on half.com so there should be plenty of verisimilitude here), including the expensive one with the RAVIOLI and the POTTED GERANIUM (first time round I accidentally bought a manual on indoor gardening; I was jolly pleased to discover it could be put to good use after all). And she doesn't mind him having other women on the side, either, because NYMPHETS are queuing up, like.

BUT THERE IS A SNAKE IN THE GRASS in the form of ALPHONSE, a dashingly handsome, unbelievably rich, talented, witty young screen idol and aristocrat and who once met George W. Bush (the self-styled Man Who Put the "W" in "President") and who's hung like a horse, the bastard. He threatens their IDYLL, but . . .


Chapter-by-Chapter Synopsis

Chapter One

DOLORES meets BO by the Budweiser machine at the bowling alley and immediately perceives his outward appearance of stultifying dullness is really a FASCINATING ENEMA. He QUITE DELIBERATELY, whatever any of his stupid, unpoetic bowling-mates from the International Barbed-Wire Appreciation Society (IBWAS) might say, trips over his feet, pours his Budweiser Lite into his right ear, and gets his tongue painfully lodged in the coin- return mechanism.

DOLORES invites BO back to her place, which proves to be the entire Trump International Hotel. She allows him to HAVE ANYTHING HE WANTS from room service and the mini-bar.

Chapter Two

Dramatic tension: The Trump International Hotel doesn't stock Budweiser Lite. Bo has to make do with Busch.

Chapter Three to Chapter Ten

They get it on a lot. Fortunately room service does an excellent ravioli.

Chapter Eleven

BO strangles ALPHONSE extremely slowly and painfully with a spare length of 1922 Chevrolet FenceSekure Trojan MasterKlamp (very rare!). But he does this with a sensitivity that melts both DOLORES' HEART and about four pounds of parmesan cheese.

Chapter Twelve to Chapter Twenty

BO gets it on a lot with DOLORES and PIPER PERABO and JENNIFER LOPEZ and ALL OF JOSIE AND THE PUSSYCATS AT ONCE and THAT BABE WHO WAS IN TITANIC WHAT'S HER NAME and BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER and the GIRLS IN FRIENDS and a few others, all of whom prove to like Budweiser Lite and join IBWAS and vote him President of IBWAS in an exciting run-off against the corpse of that bastard Alphonse Mullett who only got elected in the first place because of that time he met George W. Bush. They all, except George W. Bush who's too busy at the White House, have a REALLY FANTASTIC RAVIOLI PARTY TOGETHER and talk a lot about barbed wire and they don't miss Alphonse Mullett NOT EVEN A BIT.

The End