“Stanley. Where the hell’s my tea?”
Stanley flinched, but couldn’t tear his eyes from the glowing screen in front of him. The excitement of realising that someone had posted a review of his book, the book that had taken him ten years to write, had been quenched when he saw the single lonely star, and read the scathing words.
From George Witherall
Not only do I regret ever laying eyes on this appalling book, I also regret looking at this author’s profile to see what manner of fool could write so badly, and coming face to face with the ugliest man alive. Load of rubbish. The only recommendation that I could give for this trash would be incineration.
“Yes Mother. I’m coming!”
The cold shock of reading his very first book review had rendered him incapable of movement. The rage that now filled him as he clicked…
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