Good morning pledgers, readers and others - today I'm doing a lot of sighing. Because I asked a politician a direct question...
First, though, something positive. Rink-Dink, the Royal Marine favourite of many in Tutu, rang to say that he had read the book, how much he loved being remembered so comprehensively and, now that these days he was quite the decorated Commando, might he ask me to take part in a gala he was planning for Armed Forces' Day, 2018?
Where might it be held? He suggested Gloucester Rugby Club, near where he lives, and I suggested Thorpeness, actually where I live. Here is a golf club, a beautiful intimate room in the Alms Houses Tower, and the Meare - just can he and his fellow Marines please not go Naked Pedaloing? Rink-Dink promised and signed off with a recent photo of himself captioned Time has taken its toll. I replied, 'No, when we were in Kabul together in 2006 you were Di Caprio as Romeo, now you're Di Caprio in the Revenant.'
I emailed my local MP to invite her to my Aldeburgh Book Launch, attached my book's press release - asked would she please get behind it? - and, apropos, told her about Rink-Dink's planned event: where it might be held locally and what it would entail.
She wrote back not responding to my invitation - not even mentioning the book - and said that she would pass my email on to the councillor who was putting on an Armed Forces' event in Felixstowe.
You see? This is one clear reason why grass roots, first consumers, early devotees (might be kidding myself there) need to be behind my book - and, indeed, all of Unbound's books. (Did you know, Unbound has just been shortlisted for Independent Publisher of the Year?) So, please tweet, insta, facebook, email, write letters - all with full use of: 'love', 'wow', 'sob', 'roll on floor laughing', 'applause', 'prize cup awarded' - even, as someone did yesterday, the toadstool emoji.
And as for my local MP...let's bring in the big gun from the book, Stacks himself. When he went borderline berserk at me for playing to the gallery of his Commando peers onstage - if you read the book you'll know - he bawled, 'They weren't actually meant to be at the gig at all, the f-cks. Twenty-two miles away, their base. But they'd been on patrol and seen the poster advertising the Combined Services gig. With you on it in your feathers and six dozen sewn together doilies. And expecting Royal Marines Commandos to stay away from a show with drag in it, is a bit like expecting a politician to go for a colonic and not get a doggy bag!'
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