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Sick days in the heart of London: a soldier butchered by home-grown thugs citing religion as a way to make their cowardice appear noble. The media, already spittle lipped over every gory detail, have turned into salivating beasts now they have film of one of the killers with his hands red with his victim's lifeblood. The far right are already stirring beneath their bed sheets stained yellow with their septic filth and bile. Politicians, those feral bastards, are already making political capital by claiming that they're not going to make political capital… These are bad times all around and I find myself not wanting to look out at the world today. Yet I thought I could do something. Perhaps raise a few smiles despite all this grim news. I've therefore decided to pirate an ebook, which is itself a sordid business to be into. However, in this case there is a modicum of decency because I also wrote the damn thing. For a limited time, you can download my last book from here. If it makes you laugh enough times, perhaps you'd consider supporting me by buying it from here (Amazon) or here (Dashwords). Either way, if you like it (or even if you don't like it), give it your friends, family, and random strangers. I'd even be grateful if you'd go stick it on some ebook piracy websites and Bittorrent it at your leisure. Hell, I'm not going to come after you. I'm just happy to be read. I must warn you that the book I'm giving away is high class erotica and I say that fully aware that I'm also lying to you even as I look you in the eye. It's actually five short stories written as parodies of high class erotica, with a deliberately 'bad' style, trying to imitate some of those awful books you see topping the Amazon charts with some bloke on the cover with muscles like the coast of Norway. The whole thing is meant to hang comically on the ear, with very poorly chosen comic metaphors to describe those heightened moments of sensuality. You'll quickly get the idea. I liked it enough to publish it as an ebook but after my week of rejections by 'Private Eye' and 'The Guardian's 'Comment is Free' (or, as I like to think of it, 'Comment is Unwanted'), I'm discovering that my sense of humour is probably a minority interest. So, if you like the book, perhaps you could even go out of your way and wave in my direction and say 'thanks David, I enjoyed that'. Today, I feel like I need it… As to the name: I'm obviously not called Felicity and I'm really in no mood to be groped. Perhaps later… The name was probably a bad choice, laden with sexual misconduct, and it's already attracted the hostility of some . I don't know why I've written yet another book under a false name except that I've always detested the cult of personality. Russell Brand, in my eyes, is perfectly named. That's what it all comes down to: logos, branding, promotion, marketing, TV. I've probably not done enough of that kind of things to make anything I'd done even a little bit successful but what kind of writer really cares about that kind of thing? Oh, right! A successful writer, you say… Well, that explains everything. I guess I'm too much in love the work and with the writing of men like William Donaldson, a much forgotten literary maverick, who created (among many others) the character of Henry Root, who wrote the famous Root letters back in the 1970s. He wrote other things under other guises and I've always admired writers to allow their work to stand on their own, devoid of attachment to some face. So, there you have it. Today's gift to you: a 30,000 word book. I hope it helps you get over these dark days. And if you liked any of it, please tell me. It's the small things that, to paraphrase the words of the great Ron Mael, 'keep me doing what I do in slightly askew ways...'