Rem Agenting Chaps!

Can't blog about (not) finding an agent if nothing's happening, so I sent off about twelve emails today using the webpage Everyone Who Is Anyone for the addresses. This should stir up a bit of apathy surely!


Brian Wilson's flatulence problems were so bad yesterday that Poisonous and I were unable to get anywhere near him. We shouted at him from the gate of the castle he lives in down Portobello. He seems to think the French are going to invade from Fife and has a small nuclear device he obtained in Tennessee pointing in that direction. Chewing on the usual pig's face and swilling back a pint of the horrible pink stuff, he says he might eat the nuclear device if it doesn't go off first. Portobello tourist people should really know this! The back blast could reach Glasgow!

Lucy Luck of RCW literary agents actually clicked on my webpage. This is, I'm sure, the first agent who has ever visited it though it was put up to attract agents at the start of February. She says she's way too busy to bother with poor people like me, but it was good to see someone at least doing something asked for in the email!

So far at the end of the working day, I've had four responses to the emails. Everyone said they were too busy to be bothered, and one said he'd pretend to look if it meant I wouldn't report him to the animal cruelty people for doing bad things to a sheep. He should be so lucky.

Can't remember now why I want an agent again. Yes, it's for the poor starving orphans and so I can get to be rich and keep the flatheids away! I must say no going to work at all would be quite nice.

I've saved myself today for the digging tonight! If I'm lucky it'll rain and I can sit in the hut instead. Last night I thought I'd like to spend a night there this week. Retreat! Retreat!