Does anyone want Big Sam's autobiography when I've finished with it?

It doesn't start very promisingly.

Quite crude and lumpen and reliant on the long sentence game. He unceremoniously lumps each story subject into touch.

You get the impression that he's grinding out each chapter. It's not pretty to watch.

But then, as the book progresses, the writing gets tighter. His prose seems to exude confidence and the link up play between some of the metaphors is quite impressive.

But then, just as I was beginning to enjoy it, I've decided to throw it away and quit.

So if you want it, I'm going to put it in the Cancer Research charity book shop.

Did he write it after walking in and discovering the amateurishness of self adoring Alan? Would love to read the truths regarding that.

COYP

Good grief, if you're going to slag me off with a cynical comment, at least think up something original.

It doesn't say much for your wit that you're repeating a cliche that's at least 50 years old. That's a heckle that dates back to music hall, George Formby and black and white television.

Why not modernise a bit and say something like, "I don't think much of yours Love" or "where's me washboard?"

Those are a bit newer.

Or you could even think up something on your own!