LOST THIS PLACE At least you went out laughing In my last book I amazed myself at my ability to communicate the very, very extra-ordinary to people who appreciate car-crash TV, gossiping quite a lot, not-wondering-much what the hell is happening on planet earth and where exactly the G-spot is. I know exactly where the G-spot is, it is at Calvary. Calvary, which is not an armed force on horseback but the place where my mate got murdered because He understood what most ordinary folk don't thereby challenging the status quo and upsetting an awful lot of people, who were co-incidentally, waiting for the promised Messiah, is somewhere in the middle-east, but I'm not quite sure where. For those poor unfortunates who managed to get through my last book without the help of any opiates at all, I excitedly welcome you to my next book, which should be every bit as challenging, and possibly worrying, as my last and first attempt to be mocked thoroughly by all and sundry. But then I do bring it on myself, don't I? Having not read "Fifty Shades of Grey" because I have been there, done that, I decided to nick the authors idea, to some extent only, which is actually only part-plagiarism and should only get me in a bit of trouble, simple because Spirit is so damn sexy. But you probably don't know much about three shades of anything let alone spirit, or sexual domination, and I know quite a bit about both. The author makes no apologies for his thoroughly tried and tested experience. It rarely fails him. So, here is my second offering, gracefully but erratically constructed with the approval of my best buddy, JTC, who is really pushing me these days to keep on humiliating myself to all and sundry, even the religious, despite the personal pain it causes me. Several Shades of God it is, pre-titled to Lost This Place purely for commercial gain as the word God is bound to put you off. Isn't it? And 'Cos spirit is so damn sexy......enjoy the challenge or fear it if you are the least bit phobic as that has, and always will be, your own choice. For my alter-ego, and for Ryan Mark and Rory John, that you may both forever avoid ending up as Barbers and multi-divorcees. For my sisters and Jeff, all of whom I quietly miss, for my very cool nephews and nieces, all of whom I quietly miss, and for all the little new souls now appearing on earth and the joy they bring to me even at such a distance. For you all, quite literally, forever. Eternal thanks to my son, Lee, who knows I'm OK really, Ali, my guardian Angel in this life and most likely the next, Anna, who I quietly miss and can't afford to visit yet although I'm working on it and Bruce Springsteen for all the great gigs. I have read, in my last book actually, some pretty ego-centric promises to reveal to my growing fan-base and many persecutors, my countless disappointments with girlfriends, my many other unearthly experiences, a tale of two very real Angels on earth whose grace under terrible suffering knows no bounds and my many out-of-body experiences I have, well, experienced, while trying to recoup several hundred pounds from a woman who lives in Berlin, stitched me up rotten because she is a bit-of-a-tight-arse, and one who should really have known better, especially at her age. I cannot emphasise enough how erratic it will be, how dissolute but determined it may turn out or the amount of indignation and/or humour my readers may, or may not, feel upon reading it, but that is their problem, not mine. Isn't it? If you too, are a bit-of-tight-arse you will be offended for sure. I'd even bet on it and actually do. Buy my books for the Laugh of this life.