Only one week left until The Caitiff is released on Amazon – I’ve gotta say, I’m pretty excited, even though I know the real work of grovelling for reviews and feedback and all manner of other necessary things only begins after it has been released. Ah well, I’m going to ignore that for the minute and just focus on the fact that I completed the damn thing.
The advertisements seemed to breed, and grew to occupy an even greater stretch of the city, with great banners tumbling from the taller buildings; huge things of heavy plastic sheeting and blinding colours. Half-naked women and smart-looking men stared down into the streets with gently mocking expressions of superiority. I am here, they seemed to say, because you are uglier than I, because I am an ideal to strive towards, a goal; they were Britain’s answer to the American Dream, tuxedoed conservatives with oily black hair and perfect teeth, slim women with lingerie clinging to their bodies like badly-painted tumours and pale children with spotless shirts and knitted jumpers, smiling severely at their parents, any innocence replaced by a knowledge of manipulation. Above it all, in the white clouds of a summer skyline severed with man-made intersections, the pale hand of the Money-God stirred the breeze; that such banners would flutter against the buildings to which they were tied. They were sails, I thought once, like Manchester was the next Ark and the disciples of Money were the chosen passengers. Who needs two of every animal to create a new world, when one has two of every demographic?