Monday, 2 December 2013

Sleuthwitch Franchise - NO DEAL

$9m plus for the
Sleuthwitch franchise?
Chicken feed!” says Lee.
Carlo Marx Bingo Club
Arnie Goy and The Sock Puppet at the Carlo Marx Bingo Club, Lune Press
After a three-cornered bidding war, the Sock Puppet has been informed, Lee turns down a book/TV serial deal worth $9m (six-of-large English). The sock puppet spoke to Arnold Goy (of Shiksa & Goy), who headed up the bidders' consortium.

Carlo Marx Bingo Club, London.

Waiter: What'll it be, then?

Goy: A large single malt, neat and without ice, please.

Waiter: And for the broad? I mean... for the snake?

The Sock Puppet: I'll have a DocMarten's.

Waiter: Boot or shoe?

TSP: A shoe, please.

Waiter: Black or ox-blood?

TSP: Ox-blood.

Waiter: What size?

TSP: A 9½.

Waiter: Laced or slip-on?

Goy: For pity's sake!

TSP: Laced, please.

Waiter: Left or right foot?

Goy: Just bring the bloody pair!

Waiter: With or without Odor-Eaters?

Goy: Will you clear off? Right, now I'm ready to answer your questions.

TSP: OK, you offered Lee $9m for a book he hasn't even finished? You're on the weed again, aren't you?

Goy: Clean as a whistle, Squire! 'Struth is, Lee hasn't had much free time of late, but his idea is a total smasher. A real blinder. A Bobby Dazzler. A Jammy Riddler!

TSP: Oh, aye? Who else was bidding?

Goy: Little Brown Jug was in there, as were Random Plot. On the TV side, we had interest from FocksTales and heXTV.

TSP: heXTV, the witchy porn channel?

Goy: Well, there exists some scope for kissing, cuddles and a bum smack or two in the book.

TSP: You were turning Lee's latest tome into a piece of Satan Smut?

Goy: Begging your honour's pardon, there was nothing smutty about the deal. Largely tasteful, it was, and suitable for persons of severable dispositions.

TSP: Severable, eh? I'm not surprised the author turned you down. How could he live up to himself?

Goy: Worse things have happened in space!

TSP: Lee's not a fizzled out comet, man! Not one of your flipping cheese graters, either; he'd rather leave his work on the back seat of a trolleybus than have it turned into someone's slush fund. What would he do with that kind of money anyway? Buy himself a tractor?

Goy: He could do with a new tractor, yes; and a decent pair of reading glasses.

TSP: You leave him alone. He's quite happy as he is.

Goy: Exactly how many copies of his first novel has he sold exactly?

TSP: Exactly? There's no need to be starkers!

Goy: Come on, how many is it, after eighteen months on sale?

TSP: I'd have to check the website.

Goy: I'll save you the trouble. In eighteen months he has sold a grand total of one book.

TSP: An achievement in itself! But sales have been slow with your world economic crisis. People don't like shelving out, see, rather spare their cutter for cheap sex and booze.

Goy: He's a flipping dreamer.

TSP: The man's a hartist.

Goy: You mean he's wasting the hair he breathes. He should pull over and leave some other schmuck ago.

TSP: Who's stopping them?

Goy: There should be a law against it.

Waiter: Here's your order, gentle... z.

Goy: Did I say I wanted ice?

Waiter: That's not ice, sir; those are shards of broken glass.

TSP: Well these shoes are a lovely fit, both of them! Just smell that leather! Cheers, Big Ears!

Goy: Up yours, Pussy Foot!
Socket Puppet Master
Never Sign!

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