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'He'd worked on the footplate for forty long years, he remembered the sweat and he remembered the tears, And he remembered the thrill of just being alive, with a full head of steam on an old Black Five;'

As their eyes got used to the dim violet light Wendy screamed. Patrick simply froze. ....They were in a large cargo hold. Just a few feet in front of them was the largest most terrifying creature they could ever imagine. It was looking right at them, and opened its fearsome mouth wide. Just then Grat's voice came through a speaker set in the wall. "Have no fear of the Sea Dragon; it is held secure inside a magna-cage. If you reach out you can feel the cage. It is like a one-way mirror. You can see inside, but the Dragon cannot see out. He carried on speaking and sounded as if he was working,

Be warned: It is absolutely raw. It is a 'no punches pulled' and 'just as it happened' frank record of one man's life. (And what a man). It is in no way reading suitable for minors, prudes, or the faint-hearted. Whilst the early pages mostly give an illuminating historical insight into life in England during the 1930's and 1940's for those country kids born into poverty, do not be lulled into any sense of security. As the story unfolds, the many explicit sex situations are so graphically described in some profusion, that the combined contents of the Karma Sutra, Marquis de Sade, James Joyce, and Arthur Miller's works pale into insignificance. This is 'hands on' and unexpurgated. The first part - 'Book One' ' is what many will consider a catalogue of evil. It is the biography of a youth hell bent on monetary gain and sexual self-gratification. And of the mostly teenage nymphomaniacs who formed his stable of call-girls, whores, and adult-show performers. He made the girls rich, and in doing so amassed a fortune of his own whilst still a teenager.

Another ugly Duckling I'm sure you all know about the little ugly duckling that grew to be a beautiful swan; well this is about a little girl all the other children thought was ugly:

Click. Click. Knock.

I'm unhappy. But why? This ... I do not know

You turn me over slow as a clam surfacing and for air between my thighs,

I could straddle the streets always forcing forwards with my left foot and not notice the closed curtains the lack of cats and the smell of gas with no fire. It could combust like a sofa in the middle of the night

He's facing the old man down soon as the car door slams. This is it. He graciously tolerated her howler monkey housemate, his 'Whojoo thinkyoowar's and the needly-fingered local doubled over the bar