Meet my ghastly alter ego
Still don’t feel like you’ve been properly introduced to my ghastly alter ego, Jamie Prattlock?
Now - to business. As a journalist and writer, I like to think the best of every single piece of writing that I read.
I strive not to look at the weaknesses, the faults, the bland cliches, but instead to concentrate on what is good and worthy of praise.
I know that writing is hard. And that is why, in the past, I have always tried to be positive about any piece that came my way.
At least up until now.
But sometimes, you know, you have to make an exception. Sometimes you come across a piece of writing that is so excruciatingly bad, so painful, that it just sets your teeth on edge. You can try as hard as you like, but there is not one single good word to be said about it.
Have I ever mentioned, by the way, my publisher Idle Tom?
"Well here it is!" said Idle Tom, full as ever of manly publishing cheer. "Jamie Prattlock’s riposte to all this nasty stuff that Daisy Dooley has been writing about him in the Mail!"
My soul was filled with an inexpressible gloom. "I can’t wait."
"I know you can’t! Well hang onto your seat Billyboy, because you’re in for a treat! Now, because there’s a copyright problem, we might have to call him Davy Prattcock -"
"Or even Davy Dooley."
"I LOVE IT! Davy Dooley Does Divorce! It’s inspired! Genius!"
"Get on with it." Ever had a root canal? I’ve had three - and believe me, I’d take the dentist any time over Idle Tom’s prattling.
"Ahem!" He cleared his throat, and started to speak in an awful sing-song voice. "Hi! My name’s Davy - but you probably know me as "The Bastard", "The Tosser" or even possibly "The Loser". These are some of the more affectionate sobriquets by which my ex-wife Daisy Prattlock likes to refer to me -"
"Sobriquets!" I said. "Where the hell did you get that one from?"
"The Thesaurus. To continue, Ahem! "Now daffy old Daisy has had a lot of fun over the past three years washing our marital laundry in public.
"Now I feel it’s time for me to have a little go at washing a little laundry of my own.
"It might be painful. It might be hard. But what I can promise is that we’re going to have a whole load of fun along the way -"
Somehow I had to stop him. "Tell me, Tommy, just before you carry on. Where, exactly, do you see this story appearing?"
"Mail on Sunday again?" he said like the cavalier he is. "Sunday Telegraph? Observer perhaps?"
"You haven’t done much journalism before, have you Tom?"
"Not much, no. In fact! None at all! Is that going to be a problem?"