And so, with the first prequel nearing its final read-through, I recalled an ‘interview’ I conducted a with my new protagonist back in the summer (of 1973) …
Shaun:
Hi, [Redacted]. Glad you could join me.
[Redacted]:
Wish I could say the feeling was mutual.
Shaun:
Look, I know you’re a busy man, I won’t keep you long.
[Redacted]:
I was just off to the beach.
Shaun:
I know. I wondered if you’d like to tell me a bit about yourself.
[Redacted]:
You want to know a bit about me? Are you serious?
Shaun:
Very much. Oh, and if you could refrain from swearing, I’d be grateful.
[Redacted]:
You invented me, you idiot! Anyway, after what you’re putting me through, why I should talk to you?
Shaun:
I could make you life worse.
[Redacted]:
How, exactly?
Shaun:
Fair point. I could make your life better.
[Redacted]:
Stick and carrot, eh? All right, I’ll play along. What do you want to know?
Shaun:
I’m intrigued to know what you think of your new female lead. I know everyone finds her a bit of mystery, but what’s your gut feeling?
[Redacted]:
I’m still married, remember? My wife walked out on me nine months ago and you’re thrusting this maniac into my arms.
Shaun:
I thought you liked her.
[Redacted]:
Like? Yes. Trust? Well, what do you think? It’s one of your books. No one trusts anyone, do they?
Shaun:
You have to trust someone.
[Redacted]:
I trust myself. And half the time I don’t even do that. You’re doing my liver no favours, by the way. And you seem to relish making my life as complicated as possible. I can’t keep up! I have to write things down on tiny scraps of paper using abbreviations only I know the meaning of — thanks to you, I’ve invented my own shorthand when all I want to do is get my own place, get my wife back and get on with life. Oh, and possibly a car, if I can scrimp up enough to buy second-hand. Why is it I can’t get a council house again?
Shaun:
I’m sure it’s coming, [Redacted]. Well, thank you for your time. I know you’re anxious to get back to your holiday.
[Redacted]:
Cheers. Oh, I notice you’ve made them all alkies, too. And smokers.
Shaun:
The old chap doesn’t smoke.
[Redacted]:
But I used to. Till you made me give up. Now all I hear is, ‘Cigarette, anyone?’ Talk about rubbing my nose in it. Why is it you hate me so much?
Shaun:
It’s hard love, [Redacted]. Anyway, smoking’s bad for you.
[Redacted]:
And booze isn’t?
Shaun:
Wait till you try the old bloke’s home-brew. Now that is bad for you.
[Redacted]:
There you go again! You just can’t help yourself, can you?
Shaun:
Well, I won’t keep you any longer. And thanks again for your time.
[Redacted]:
Yeah. Love you too.
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