Much like how all of my attempts at a #1 smash hit sound suspiciously like fuckingProdigy , I've resigned myself to the fact that every time I try to write my disaster of a book I end up accidentally writing the first quarter of Slaughterhouse-Five.
Unfortunately the only other career possibilities my qualifications leave me with is as some sort of maudlin hippie vicar who reads Eliot in parks like a twat.
