After much parping around, I’ve finally released my first novella Prezident Scumbag! It’s basically one giant eat shit and die to the last year in current affairs and a tough contender for the most anti-Trump work of fiction to be released thus far. Hopefully it’ll hit the cannon and I’ll become a hate figure for goats. I’m anticipating at least one death threat this year. With any luck it’ll be penned by a member of the FBI who takes his job too seriously.
Here’s the blurb:
While kicking about their squat a community of crust punks from the north of England learn all about the newly elected President of the World. Turns out this president happens to be their worst nightmare in a shirt and tie. He is, in their words, a corporate swine who promises to make things do stuff tomorrow. Nobody has a fucking clue what he’s talking about.
The punks soon figure that the only sensible response to the madness happening all across the world is to fly the band over to America and put on the protest show to end all protest shows. But shortly after landing in Los Angeles, they quickly find themselves in trouble with just about everyone…
American presidential nightmares, Tory filth, Brexit bollocks, post-truth nonsense, alt-right gobshites; Prezident Scumbag! takes a pop at all of these and more in the crustiest, filthiest, angriest narrative of the last ten years. At a time when culture is begging for alternatives, Rupert Dreyfus continues to fill that void by taking his two middle fingers and ramming them down the collective throat of the mainstream.
If you’re sick and tired of right-wing populist bell-ends pretending they’re the new anti-establishment then this story will provide you with reassurance that you’re not going completely mental.
This story would’ve been ready for inauguration day but I had too much going on. Then it never nearly happened because I’m a mentalist. Then I’ve decided to put it out now just for a laff.
Meanwhile keep sticking your middle finger up at the world.