Genuine book reviews

These book reviews of Eccles's new book How to be a saved pusson were written by the people indicated, and no sockpuppets were used. Honest.

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Job

1. And the Lord spake unto Job, saying, "Job, my good servant, thou hast suffered many tribulations. Here is a wondrous book by Eccles, that thou mayest read. Hopefully it will comfort thee in thy woe."

2. And Job took the book and said unto himself "Lo! It is a jolly good read. I shall tell all my friends in the Old Testament, that they may also profit from it."

3. But, as he was reading the wise words of Eccles, an angel knocked at the door, and caused Job to drop the book. It fell out of his hands and landed on his toe.

4. And the toe of Job swelled up, and caused unto him grievous pain. Yeah, it was ready to fall off completely.

5. And Job cursed, saying, "It goeth to be one of those days again, doth it not?"

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Dr Samuel Johnson

I [Boswell] shewed unto Dr Johnson a new book that had arrived that very day, penned by the hand of one Eccles. "I know not the writer," said the Doctor. "Read me some of his words."

I read to him the passage in which Eccles told the story of his Australian aunt, she who had complained about possums knocking over a pile of tin cans in her garden.

"This Eccles is indeed a wise writer," said the Doctor. "He sayeth non possum, while his aunt says possum. But she sayeth I can while her very cans are disordered."

We all laughed merrily at the doctor's brilliant remarks, and I undertook to publish them on my blog.

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St John the Evangelist

1. And this is the testimony of Eccles, when the Jews sent from Jerusalem priests and Levites to him, to ask him: Who art thou?

2. And he confessed, and did not deny: and he confessed: I am not the Christ.

3.And they asked him: What then? Art thou Damian Thompson? And he said: I am not. Art thou Pope Benedict? And he answered: No.

4. They said therefore unto him: Who art thou, that we may give an answer to them that sent us? What sayest thou of thyself?

5. He said: I am the voice of a saved person blogging in the wilderness. And all who read my blog shall be slightly saved too.

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William Shakespeare

From This one's a waste of time as well

KING: Tell me, fool, of what manner is this book of Eccles?

FOOL: Sire, it like unto the apple tree that grew in the Garden of Eden. For it contains all the knowledge of good and evil. Then again, it seemeth to me to resemble the golden hippopotamus of legend, that which floated on the breezes of the Hesperides and which led Orlando to destruction in the Pass of Roncesvalles.

KING: Which legend is that, fool? I know it not.

FOOL: Me neither, Sire, I was just testing thee. Still, 'tis an excellent goodly book, and containeth great wisdom.

We is comin to Enggland

We was rellaxin in Anti Moly's huose in Stickybeak Street one evenin. I was queitly readin Damain Thopmson's blogg and wonderin whevver UKIP was saved, and Anti Moly was watchin her favuorite programm on de telly, which is Benny Hill cos he does de Yakety-Sax music at de end where he gets chased by lotsa girls. She fuond it much more soothin dan de prevviuos programm, which was an interveiw wiv Cradinal Pell abuot de menttal probblems dat old ladies suffer - when she saw him she screemed "Woeful!" and frew her flase teeth at de telly.

We gotta knock on de door and a strangley familair cosstume lawman was standin there.

"G'day, g'day, g'day!" he said, dis bein wot Austrialan police is trained to say. "Molly Badnite alias Judy Headache, we has been gettin dozens of compliants about you bein a  public niusance. Why doesnt you go away for a while, so dat we aint forced to arrest you?"

So my dere Anti decided dat we wuold vissit Enggland, which is where Anti's ancesstors came from until dey was sent off to Bottany Bay. We made a list of all de poeple we wuold try and visit, dat Moly has said she reely admires, such as Damain Thopmson, St Cuttley, Richard Dakwins, Tina Beattie, de Duchess Camila, Tom Chivvers, and so on. We got a good range of celebritties dere, includdin de devuot and saintly like Cuttley and Thopmson, de loonies like Beattie and Dakwins, and de braney types like Chivvers and Camila.

However, Anti gave me a warnin about Enggland, as we walked down de street to de shops: "Dem Pommie bastards is all racists, Eccles. Dey aint multicultured and tollerant like we is." Kickin a passin abboriginal wot had strayed onto de pavement, she continnued: "Look at dere spellin, for instance. Dey is racist cos dey tells off Americans for spellin baddly." Pussonally, I aint never had a probblem wiv spellin, so I didnt reely understand wot she was gettin at.

Dat's a pitcher of my Anti Moly in a bad mood, some poeple says dat she ressembles Dr Jonhson slightly. Sometimes I feels like Boswell takin down de immotral words of Jonhson, cos my Anti never reely stops producin purls of wissdom, like de epiggrams above. I admits dat dey is a bit repettitive, like when she says "ROFL" half a dozen times. I don't fink Jonhson said "ROFL" except on specail occasoins. Also dere is a limmit to how many times you can prettend dat "Such is life" is a new and strikin obversation on de humman conditoin. De way of a boigrapher aint so easy.

Our freind Damain Thopmson have got a new book out soon, which Bosco and me helped him write when he visitted us in Lost Angels. Anti Moly finks we mihgt go and see him sing coppies of it, but she promissed she wont take a few locks of his hair as souvennirs, like she did wiv poor old Cuttley.

In Enggland dey got a delickacy called an Eccles cake. I hopes it is better dan de Austrialan delickacy known as de Moly cake, which is pretty repullsive, frankly. Eatin dem widgety grubbs is an acquirred taste.