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Authormonitoringometer and why I've Just Got Up
The time is 12.40 and I’ve only just got up. ‘Great Scott, ‘I hear you ejaculate. ‘Martha, give in my notice at the bank and sign me up to be an author. Talk about money for old rope.’ The reason I’ve only just peeled myself from between the sheets is that: I’m ill. My agent has just telephoned. Between the two of them it’s hard to say which is the bigger disaster. Illness brings sinuses the size of engorged elephants, a nose like Niagara Falls, the weight of a Blue Whale pressing on my chest and the sort of cough...