My arse

I'm going to show my arse. Well, not strictly speaking my arse, but the arse of one of my books.

That's what I'm peddling today, a book. The hardback version of "Bitter!". A book that proves the wonderful value of self-publishing the Lulu way.

It's all about what I want. I didn't start collecting my blog posts out of the goodness of my heart. When I realised what a nightmare it was finding stuff I'd posted on the blog, I stared collecting it. Thematically. That's the motivation behind my books. Pure selfishness. A way of finding stuff.

I'm a bit weird with books. I hate turned-down corners or bends. I unconsciously straighten them. Soft covers are so easily damaged. Dust jackets - don't get me started on them. Unless you wrap them in plastic, threat of a tear at any touch.

Hardcover, no dust jacket. That's what I want to own. With my name in extra large letters.

Shit. I have to get off to Keith's. No time to get an image of the book's rear. Apologies about that.

If it's anything like my other intended-just-for-me editions, I'll be the only taker.

Buy it now!. I have to get off.