I luv a bit o the old Fight Club. Chuck Wasshisface caight that postmillennial vibe jus right, the crisis of masculinity collidin wiv vague anti-capitalist aggression. Ee's written sum ova stuff - baht chokin an that - an ee's back wiv a scathing satire on tha fashion fer BDSM books. Neva sure wevver Chuck's bein proper sexist ors makin a point abaht ow women get the shitty end of the stick most o tha time.
Beautiful You is abaht this geeza oos a scientific and sexual genius. Ee's rich and desired, like him off Fifty Shades. Turns out ee likes to pump women not fer fun but ta learn abaht their desires. Then ee goes on to exploit is fantastic facts, and turns all the women in the ole world into zombies frew is sex toys. Then them Promise Keepas get into it, make a big bonfire out of the toys, which explode and NYC becomes like a war zone.
Anyway, the plot ain't important - is all a bit silly, wiv mystic burds up in the ills knawing abaht sex magic, science and crappy sex scenes. The writing is well sloppy in places - wat's a 'clipboard shaped bruise, FFS - but Chuck's more into the absurd than the narrative. He's avin a laff takin pot-shots at boy bands, vampire novels and the inability of men to please their wives wivaht shovin plastic up em.
Mad Cyril is avin this one... easy to read, plenty of jokes, bit of nawty action an Chuck's distinctive fast-paced style. Gets a bit radio-rental at the end, mind. Still, took ma mind off the drubbin Chealsea jus started givin the orns.
Theatre and Culture from Scotland, starring The List's Theatre Editor, his performance persona and occasional guest stars. Experimental writings, cod-academic critiques and all his opinions, stolen or original.
Sunday, 4 January 2015
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