The Well-Tempered Clavier

And finally … for my last posting before I go on hols, I have a remarkable spat-ette to reveal.

Last week The Well-Tempered Clavier was appearing in The Wall Street Journal.

This week, it’s the page lead in the Axegrinder column Press Gazette - read by hacks all over the country. Obviously a highly influential mag.

And the page lead all stemmed from … this blog.

A month or so back, I mentioned en passant that my

old boss Jonathan Ashby used to drink his own piss.

Now this was not some figment of imagination - as at least half my colleagues at the World Entertainment News Network remember it too. (Well - it’s not something you easily forget.)

The Press Gazette asked Ashby for his views, and Ashby … gave them. (Though frankly he was always so spaced out of his eye-balls on dope, that I’m staggered he can remember anything at all from his days on this agency.)

Here’s Axegrinder’s page lead:

Showbiz hack Jonathan Ashby was this week distracted from his current project - writing a biography of Camden warbler Amy Winehouse - by a former colleague’s claim that he once had a taste for a most unusual beverage.

 

Let’s just say the non-alcoholic "drink" resembles apple juice, but is more pungent and cannot be bought in shops.

 

According to Edinburgh-based freelance and former Sun reporter Bill Coles, who twice worked with Ashby at the World Entertainment News Network (or, as he dubs it, "The Reuters of the dustbin"), he would drink a pint of this every morning in the office.

 

On his blog, he explains, "I remember how he would traipse round the newsroom in his bare, Hobbit-like feet, slopping the contents of his pint glass all over the carpet."

 

Axegrinder asked if perhaps he was taking the, er, mick.

 

"No, it’s all true," insists Coles, who has just signed a deal to write a second book for Legend Press, following last year’s publication of the romantic novel The Well-Tempered Clavier.

 

"I think the drink was supposed to lift his mood. Pretty disgusting though, slopping it everywhere. Ugh."

 

Quite. Ashby is outraged by the suggestion. He tells me, "Sorry to spoil Bill’s fun, it’s totally untrue. Perhaps you are unaware that Bill is an Old Etonian. This is public schoolboy humour, which, sadly for Bill, he has never grown out of.

 

  "I suspect this is a desperate attempt to get some publicity for that awful novel he wrote last year, which barely saw the light of day before it was consigned to the remainder bin."

 

Might it perhaps have been REAL apple juice and Coles was simply mistaken?

 

"I’ve never ever drunk apple juice," replies Ashby. "During my 10-year term in Fleet Street, before becoming the founder and editor of the World Entertainment News Network, I never ever touched the staple fare of many other showbiz journalists, which was alcohol and cocaine, choosing instead to begin my working day at 6am every morning with a big mug of coffee and a spliff while I read through all of the latest editions of Britain’s plethora of broadsheet and tabloid newspapers."

 

For good measure, he adds he was landing exclusives when "Bill, the oldest son of a millionaire pig farmer, would have been at Cambridge University studying theology before starting his career at the Cambridge Evening News."

 

Coffee and a spliff for breakfast? Ashby is surely the perfect choice to pen Amy’s life story.

 

* Back in a month - around July 28 - with tales of Tom’s blind-dates, Project X, and all the other extraordinary goings-on of The Clavier. Should you feel the need for a personal update, do please get in touch via the website, and I’ll do my best to give you a quick briefing.

Some time ago, a reader told me that The Well-Tempered Clavier was not just on sale in the Waterstone’s in Horsham - it was on their "Recommended" Shelves

To be on the "Recommended" list is gold dust! Even though your front cover may look like a total dog’s dinner, sales can go through the roof.

Naturally I was keen to ascertain if Horsham had indeed put The Clavier on its recommended pile. It was going to be a first. I was really excited. Maybe they could tell me how, precisely, they’d come across the book in the first place, and just what it was that had led them to put it on their "Most Wanted" list.

So yesterday I called them up. Got hold of a very charming woman.

"Hi!" I said. "This is going to sound a little bizarre, but I’m an author and I’ve just been told that my book is on your Recommended pile."

"Oh?" she said. "That’s jolly good."

"It is jolly good!" I said. "Well at least it would be jolly good if the book really was amongst your personal recommendations."

"What’s its name then?"

So I told her. And she clicked away on her computer for a minute or so.

"Hmmm," she said. "Well we’ve definitely got it here."

"Wonderful! That’s just what I want to hear. And … and is it on your recommended shelves?"

"Hmmm," she said. "No. No it’s not. But we do have seven copies in stock."

"Hmmm." I said. Dreams of going down to Horsham for a signing-session were beginning to fade. I mean if I’d been on their Most Wanted list, I’d have been feted! Sort of feted. At least slightly more feted than I was in Glasgow.

"But we do have seven copies here! That’s good isn’t it?"

"Indeed it is," I said. "Thank you so much."

Yet more extraordinary news on the dating front! Somebody else wants to have a date with Idle Tom the Publisher!

Or …

At least her son thinks she might …

Turns out that Susan very much enjoyed reading The Well-Tempered Clavier.

And, as her son Damian reveals, she is open to the idea of new love.

Damian, who’s just finished doing his A’levels, wrote thus:

"Hi. My mum liked your book. She’s single."

Damian - that sounds more than good enough for me.

"Tom!" I said during my daily news briefing to Argentina. "You better get back quick!"

"What?" he said. Tetchy like. "What now?"

"There’s quite a back-log of blind-dates for you. Should I should start charging for this dating service that I’m providing?"

"You are charging! Or if you’re not charging, then I’m certainly paying! These calls are costing a fiver a minute! And why do you always have to call at peak time? Haven’t you heard of e-mail?"

"Calm down dear," I said. "I only call if I’ve got something really tasty. Susan sounds terrific. She’s 37 and she’s single."

"Is that it?"

"No! Don’t you get it? Guys reach their sexual peak when they’re 21, while women reach their sexual peak much, much later - at round about, just off the top of my head, the age of 37 -"

"So what’s your point then?"

"You’re a match made in heaven!"

* LADIES! Don’t be shy now! Do you also fancy a date with that hunk of manhood that is known as Idle Tom? Drop me a line and I’ll forward your details on to one of London’s most eligible bachelors …

It looks like our visit to Eton College’s parents day may have paid off.

Admittedly, we did sell a few books - a record number of books,  actually, in Legend Press history.

But now it looks like we’ve landed the big one.

I called up Idle Tom the Publisher, currently of Argentina, to tell him the news.

"Tom!" I said. "Great news!"

"Well it better be," he said. "These calls of yours are costing me an arm and a leg."

"I know very well this is costing you a fiver a minute, but listen to this! I’m going to back to Eton on October 1! I’m going to be talking to the literary society!"

"Umm. OK." I could hear the publisher’s cogs ticking. "Is that a big deal?"

"It’s a great deal! I’m going to be pitching The Well-Tempered Clavier in the actual school where the book is set!"

"Yeah. And? Am I missing something?"

"You certainly are, my little friend! At the end of the evening, they’ll have a few of my books on sale -"

"But last time we went, none of the Etonians ever had any money -"

"That’s the point! They don’t need any money! At the literary society, they can just sign a chit and get the thing put on the bill."

"Cooo," said Tom. [Haven’t heard that expression for a while. Slightly old-fashioned. Almost quaint.] "Cooo! So if they can put the books on a chit, maybe they might buy more than one?"

"Maybe they might like to buy a few for their friends!"

"Corn in Egypt!" That’s a phrase my dear old dad likes to use after some unbelievable miracle.

For it turns out that we’ve had another extraordinary offer to go out on a date with Idle Tom the Publisher. It seems that Saskia (Alert! This is not her real name! I made it up - in order to protect The Guilty) read The Well-Tempered Clavier and for some reason has come to transfer all her good positive vibes from the book onto my publisher.

Bizarre - but that’s how it is.

Now … I have to say that Saskia, from the look of her photo, is absolutely gorgeous. She is - and I  can well believe it - "a part-time model". Would have fair old Tom a’drooling if he could get within 50 yards of her. What she does in the rest of her time, I don’t rightly know, but she does appear to have spent a lot of it fantasizing over Tommy.

Now Saskia comes from the London area, which is a little closer than Sly from Dunfermline (Tom’s first date for when he gets back from Argentina).

Here’s what Saskia says:

"Tom sounds great. I’ve read his blog at Legend Press and I’ve read yours too, and I’m not quite sure how much to believe. But if Tom’s truly available, then I’d love to meet him. I think it’d be fun!"

 

Well. I don’t know about the "fun" bit. I guess it’s all a matter of taste. It must be some sort of generational thing.

"Tom!" I said. "I hope these calls to your mobile in Argentina are costing you a fortune!"

"They are," he said. A bit grumpy. "You’re costing me about a fiver a minute."

"Good!" I said. "Then maybe you’ll pay attention to what I’m telling you! Every word that I utter must be worth about ten pence!"

"What do you want, anyway? Why are you pestering me?"

"Oh yes! I’ve got another date for you!"

"OK. Great. But can’t all this wait till I get back?"

"Just thought you’d like to be kept posted on the goings-on back in Blighty -"

"This is getting really expensive. Is there anything else?"

"Nope - that’s it. Any luck with finding a US publisher in Argentina?"

"I’d rather talk about my dates back in Britain -"

* LADEEEEEZ! Do you fancy a date with Idle Tom the Publisher, shortlisted to be Britain’s Youngest Publisher of the Year for an astonishing FIVE YEARS in a row?

Just contact me, and I’ll forward your details. Not a problem at all if you live in Australia, Antarctica, Iceland or even Pitcairn Island … my desperado publisher is more than happy to travel …

Could you stomach a date with this man? Contact me now!

A phone-call - an uplifting Transatlantic phone-call -from my publisher Idle Tom.

"Tommmyyyy!" I said. "Good to hear you! How are all those deals going? You chowing down into lots of burgers and ten-inch steaks?"

"Nope," he said. "Though they are very big on their beef here."

"Well of course they’re big on their beef. The Americans can’t enough of the stuff can they?"

"Well I’m not in the US of A. am I?"

"You’re not in America??" It’s surprising that, even though I’ve known Tom for a year, he still has the ability to surprise me. Generally I’d thought I’d seen it all from him. Yet always he has a new turn up his sleeve. "Where are you then?"

"I’m in Argentina! It’s great! Have you ever been here? The women are just beautiful! Every time I walk down the street, I fall in love ten times over -"

"But, umm, but I thought you were supposed to be in New York making deals -"

"Deals - schmeals!"

"Deals-schmeals?? What the hell have you been taking?"

"And Heyy!" he said. "You’ve got a date for me too! That woman in Dunfermline - Sly you’ve called her. And she really wants to meet me?"

"Well, she was last week. But doubtless you’ll have about ten Argentine girlfriends by Friday."

"Oh no no no!" he said. "Look but don’t touch."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah - that’s right. I can’t speak the language - they can’t speak English …"

"But Tom," I said. "They sound just perfect for you!"

I thought of Idle Tom the Publisher last night, when I saw this year’s funniest film: "A Complete History of My Sexual Failures".

It’s by a mate, Chris Waitt, who spent six months tracking down his exes to find out why he was such a loser. Check out his site here.

The film had done pretty well at the Sundance Festival - but I had no idea it was going to be quite so hilarious.

In one scene, Waitt goes to a dominatrix as a way of apologising to all the girls he’s mistreated.

She laid in to him with a will - and to hear him howling with pain was the funniest thing I’ve seen this year. The cameraman was laughing so much that a lot of the footage was useless because the lens was shaking so much.

Anyway - a great, great flick.

But it did, I’m afraid, put me in mind of one other guy who happens to be a sexual disaster zone.

"Tom," I said. "Great film I’ve seen. About a guy who visits all his exes to pick up tips on where he went wrong - "

"Yeah? Is this going anywhere?"

"Of course it’s going somewhere. Every girl who dates him dumps him. He’s a sad loner and no woman wants to go near him -"

"So what’s your point?"

"He’s looking for some clue, some little pointer, about how he might improve his act -"

"Whereupon?"

"He even goes into therapy - because he’s realised that maybe it’s not the women who are the problem. Maybe it’s him."

"And?"

"And maybe you should see it."

"But you’re not saying this guy is me are you?"

"No! No, no, no! Of course I’m not saying that! This guy is a complete failure with women - they won’t touch him with a bargepole, whereas you … you …"

"Go on."

"Well … well … I’m sure that although you’re technically single, you’ve got just tons and tons of dates lined up -"

Finally - a request comes through for a date with Idle Tom the Publisher.

A week ago, I put it out there that undesirable Tom was hankering for a girlfriend. But would anyone be prepared to take him on? His looks … well they’re sort of unusual; his sense of humour … well I’d describe it as "vexing"; his dress sense … mildly challenging; his hair … smothered in goose-grease.

But, as it happens, we’ve had a hit, a palpable hit, from a very attractive sounding lady from Dunfermline. Her name is going to have to be changed - to protect the guilty - and so for the purposes of this blog, we shall call her … Sly.

Very alluring name Sly isn’t it? It speaks of vixens and 007 girls - though I guess there is also Sly Stallone, and although Stallone was pretty useful in the ring, he’s not exactly vixen-like or alluring.

To continue. Here’s what Sly says: "Hi Bill - I came across your blog a few weeks ago, after it was recommended to me by a friend.

"I don’t really know whether all these things you’re saying about Tom the Publisher are true or not. [They are, I assure you] I’m not even really sure if he is single and wants to be dated.

"But just in case it’s not a joke, I’d like to meet him.

"I think he looks lovely, and to have got his publishing firm going at such a young age is a great achievement.

"Tom sounds like fun. I think we might hit it off …"

Sly, apparently, has just graduated and is wondering what to do next.

Could it be that the bright lights of London city are beckoning? Tom tells me that the streets are paved with gold.

So, Sly, it will be my very great pleasure to match-make the pair of you. Idle Tom is currently in the States, but I’m sure he will be chomping at the bit to return to Blighty once he realises that there’s a hot-date waiting for him in Dunfermline …