I`ve decided this grimy office needs brightening up. Tarquin`s been off to Laura Ashleys and left his bum chum Quinten behind, The young lad`s got an interior design diploma from Goldsmiths. You couldn`t get any more talent under one roof.
I hear writers say the could wallpaper their rooms in rejection slips. Shouldn`t that be telling you something? Do me a favour and decorate. All the time you`re arsing around with a pritt stick the less time you`ll spend putting pen to paper. Consequently this means my office wouldn`t be constantly awash with cerebral diarrhoea. Some times think I might as well nail up the letterbox
I make my fortune from past lists. I`ve no intention of taking on a financial gamble on an aspiring fresh writer. (Even if you were one!) No, no no. Like most businessmen I`m extremely cautious. I told them that Philosophers`s Stone nonsense would amount to nothing. You see I live in the world of mediocrity and responsibility. I cannot afford to loose my investments in a futures market. So you lot can carry on buzzing your lives away in a continual line of dots and dashes which outlines your existence. What you envious bastards don`t understand is that I create dreams, you are the ones who shatter them.
"Quinten! Are you wearing Tarquin`s Kimono?