And The Doughnut Eaters Shall Inherit The Girth
15 September 2010
Work continues here at Long Midnight Publishing Headquarters, in our new executive office suite high above Central Park in the very heart of Manhattan's publishing district, on getting the next book in the Barney Thomson series ready for e-publication. The King Was In His Counting House should be dusted off and ready to go by the beginning of next week, such is the speed with which this latest electronic venture is coming together.
In general, excitement is mounting in the book trade at what some are seeing as the potential explosion in sales that will result from the release of the Barney Thomson series into the electronic ether. After just four days, sales of the first three electronic barbershop death junky titles from Amazon.uk's Kindle Store are currently running at 0, although that number is changing all the time.
Head of Long Midnight Publishing, Asia Directorate, Elvis Shackleton, is bullishly confident about the company's potential breakthrough into the stratospheric elite group of Big Four British publishing houses, which currently comprises Random House, Hachette, the Beano and HarperCollins. "We're utterly confident that the Big Four of British publishing will pretty soon be the Big Five. Things are very exciting when you consider these early sales figures. With just three titles on sale for less than a week, we already have zero sales; and once the remainder of the series is out there, you're talking about doubling those kinds of numbers. That's when it starts to get pretty giddy. It's extraordinary."
Meanwhile, moves are afoot to have lines from The King Was In His Counting House - considered by many, including the author - to be the finest of all seven Barney Thomson titles, included in the forthcoming New London Like Totally Awesome Lines From Books Init. Currently under consideration are the following literary one-liners from this most excellent publication:
And the doughnut eaters shall inherit the girth
He was the human equivalent of a flight on Easyjet
She's the political equivalent of a mild dose of feminine itching
The morning was bright and the pale summer curtains – the woman in the shop had described their colour as supreme of August beige, as if they might be something you had served to you with broccoli and sautéed potatoes – barely kept out the light.
"The sun is shining, and I thought I was in continental Europe. At least, until I saw the rubbish in the streets and all the young girls pushing prams."