Emerald Bile

Despite not liking Avid Readers, and finding books in general pretty fucking dull, I try my hardest to be invited to join Book Clubs. I never normally read the book, I cannot be fucked to, but there are usually crisps on offer at the Book Club venue, and maybe some type of deep fried cheese ball, and a general sense of bonhomie at the beginning that quickly gets clobbered by an arsenal of pretension. It's a cracking night out.

I would never go to a book club with men in, because it would be terribly boring. Men never have anything to say, really, at all, unless they are talking about sport, and the type of man who would have something meaningful to say about a book? Well, wouldn't he be a big cunt! No I couldn't have men about, if they weren't being awful cunts, then they would change the dynamic and there would be sideways glances and giggling and flirting and all the men desperate to scratch their balls, but just too polite and literary to go ahead and do it. Mixed Book clubs would be shite.

When there are only women, a book club becomes a full on intelligent cat fight, with each specky whore trying to out-bright the next. The choice of the book is key, and whichever woman chooses it, makes sure that it "Says Something" about what a fascinating individual she is. They might pick out a Greek Tragedy so they can harp on about the witch fantasy, or choose one of those interminable Chinese books about downtrodden people in factories triumphing over their terrible circumstances and becoming eminent academics. Or they force everyone to read that fucking book: "The Kite Runner", which is all about Afghanistan and anal rape. I just don't see why anyone would want to read that shit, I really don't. The sick weirdo bastards. I am not remotely interested in Afghanistan, not since they blew up all the nice Buddha things, it sounds like all sorts of a shithole, and as for anal rape, well that is just a way for the author to distract his well-meaning, middle class readers' attention from the miserable yawny fest that is the protagonist's relationship with his tedious father and some old servants, and shock you out of the dreadful stupor created by the author's mediocre prose and boring imagery. If you are going to write about unpleasant things outside the realm of most Times' readers personal experience, then write better, you fucking lazy cunt. And what about the name? The Kite runner. Ripped arseholes in Kabul more like.
Noreen