Fanny Love and the Crack of Doom

I'm giving my singing career a rest (my 12 and a half octave voice has recently been strained because of performing too much oral sex) so in the interim, I've turned my hand to writing.  As many of you know, I published my first book, Fanny Love and the Crack of Doom, back in the 1990s.  

It was an immediate best-seller.

Well, it's been re-released by Penguin Poo Books and has just been voted "Number One Bodice-Ripper" by readers of the Daily Mail.   The Daily Mail is a type of comic which is used at fish n chip shops up and down this island to wrap fried fish in.


Nonetheless, I was literally titillated to get such a literary accolade from the University degree-educated readers of Britain's best newspaper/comic.  

What's my novel about?   Fanny Love and the Crack of Doom is a classic soft porn novel about a very famous and very beautiful transvestite who gets eaten by a transvestite-eating venus fly trap plant that escapes from London zoo and goes on the rampage.    It sold over 200 million billion trillion copies when it was first printed in the early 1990s.  Rumour has it that much of the vast de-forestation in the Amazonian rainforest was directly caused by the book publisher's incessant needs to source enough paper to print my book.   Demand for my book led to a severe global paper shortage, you see.

 Sadly, the entire Amazon Rainforest was almost completely stripped of trees, in order to provide enough paper to print all the required copies of my book, such was the huge demand.  Bah humbug.

Maybe this year I'll be knighted and accept the title of poet laureate?  I'm waiting with baited breasts for that one!  I've already bought a yellow ostrich feather hat in nervous anticipation for the occasion.

Here is an excerpt from the book, a particularly romantic section.  I hope you enjoy:

Sister Honey screamed out loud in pure ecstacy as the fat Bishop, his gargantuan butterball frame almost filling the alcove below the church's stained glass window, forced his humungous, engorged purple love-pole into her tiny, vermillion peep-hole and bellowed at the top of his voice 'take it like a bitch'.  Meanwhile, the assembled congregation in front of them broke out in verse, singing All Things Bright and Beautiful, whilst Sister Honey's moans of "please frig my twat harder" were only heard by the Bishop.

Rare and elusive Wombles can often be spotted late at night on London's Hampstead Heath.

Meanwhile, in another part of London, celebrated authoress Fanny Love - wearing a seal-skin dress, purple stilettos made from quartz that made a seductive clacking sound when she walked over marble - was waltzing across the marshy tract of Hampstead Heath looking for Uncle Vulgaria, one of her favourite Wombles of all time.  "Stop right there" shouted Fanny, her scarlet whore's mouth spitting out the words with venom, as she caught sight of a large, furry, brown object up ahead, bent over a log.  "Oh hello George Michael, I didn't realise it was you.  Have you seen Uncle Vulgaria?".

 
Move over Ernest Hemingball, Charles Dicket and Jeffrey Archer, celebrated author and poet Fanny Love is back with a writing vengeance! x