Master Of Masteries

Writers! Roll up! There are still some titles up for grabs!
So you can't be the Master of the Techno-Thriller like Michael
Crichton. Never mind!
And Haruki Murakami has beaten you to Master of the Ordinary. So
what?
Louie Giglio's already the a Master of Poetic and Pithy
One-Liners,
and Master of Subtle Irony and Humour has gone too.
It might look, to the inimaginative, that there is nothing left to be
claimed.

Not so!
Please!
Observe my catalogue! Take your time and choose from:

Master of shaping the moment into a flower.
Master of the literary Jenga tower.
Master of bio-linguistic schadenfreude,
Master of making a mountain out of a void.

Master of phallic imagery.
Master of lack-of-irony.
Master of cocked-up symmetry.
Master of post-modern Zionry.

Master of masturbatory sourcery.
Master of all that is shallow and cursory.
Master of Buddhist angst.
Master of firing blanks.
Master of books made entirely from arse-hair.
Master of ripping off Byron's The Corsair.
Master of poems with only one adjective.
Master of using the scenery of Ottawa.
Master of the imitative, stale and derivative.
Master of contemporary children's erotica.

Master of using the phrase 'If the thong fits...'
Master of being good mates with the critics.
Master of haikus involving crickets.
Master of taking the piss out of rickets.
Master of abstention.
Master of prentention.
Master of suspens i o n bridge related fiction
Master of the genre's hidden Stalinist dimension.

Master of pointless and inaccurate use of the phrase,
"Orwell must be spinning in his grave."
Master of villainous protagonists called Dave
or Maive
or Mable.
Master of fiction that props up the table.
Master of Texan bestial sex scenes.
Master of ex-cop versus T-Rex scenes.
Master of the understated cliche.
Master of the blunderous plot-hole.
Master of disasters that outstrip Pompeii.
Master of drippy and meaningless wordplay.
Master of pages that plagiarise Dante.
Master of thousand-page bogroll.