I always do this.  

Half way into the book, I’m writing a review.

What’s the urgency you ask?

I felt compelled to read this guy. 

He gets under your skin.

You’ll know what is good for you by reading him. 

It’s as if he’s writing these books for me. 

I shave change my underwear and hit the dirty part of town. 

A bit of Dutch courage at the pub then I pop across the road to the strip joint. 

And a half an hour later I’m propositioned by a big titted Philippine whore. 

Whoops, this is from a book which hasn’t even been written. 

It will be a matter of time before Mark Rogers is discovered. 

You’ll have Sean Penn and Johnny Depp fawning over him. 

 ('Why couldn't we write this shit', they say in chorus as they bang their heads on the bar in frustration.' Because we are failed writers, that's all actors are'' says Sean. 'You got that right', replies Johnny.) 

I’d like to think that I discovered him long before they do. 

I intend to finish this book tonight. 

Then I’ll hound Mark for a glimpse of his latest memoir. 

As they say, he’s living the writer’s dream. 

He might make a few pennies out of it but it won’t stop him doing what he loves. 

The words are on the table. 

What have you got?

Read him.

He’s a national treasure and deserves the occasional tip of the hat. 

Now don’t blush when you read this. 

If you like a trip down to the dirty part of town, even roses bloom. 

Flashbacks. 

I’m flirting with a shag.

I want it but don’t want to take the plunge. 

I’ll have a few beers and work my way into it. 

There’s no way out. You’ll get shagged tonight. 

Night Within Night, give it a try. The local knock shop is just around the corner. 

Written in the '80s,  this book sets a blistering pace into the Korean massage parlors of New York.

Having fucked my first Asian whores in inner Sydney, it's a book I can relate to.

It's a book I should have written.

Maybe I will.

Don't go gentle into the night, fuck yourself stupid ( while you can). 

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