Harry Zapper’s Book of Revelations is a work of darkly comic fiction; a parody of today’s production-line, celebrity “autobiography”.
In a world overflowing with immature, mediocre talent and wildly inflated egos; a world where mortality rates dwarf those of the garlic-munching aristocracy at the time of the French Revolution (and rightly so), Harry Zapper views himself as crown prince to, and saviour of, the undeserving and inferior masses.
Would-be educator and literary messiah, Harry wallows in an ocean of vanity matched only by the jaw-dropping expanse of un-common sense and bigotry he displays on an almost daily basis. But Harry is an optimist and an unlikely survivor, and this fictional life story of a deluded and narrow-minded D-lister recounts the troubled rise, fall and desperate scrabbling of a man blighted by material greed and the misguided belief that he is both intellectual genius and irresistible Don Juan.
With his star approaching its grubby, yet twinkling zenith (a feat seemingly less likely than a Tory council laying on tea and biscuits for a caravan of Romanian gypsies), Harry’s world is everything he knew it would be. A bachelor pad and a penchant for the fuller-figured woman can be easily catered for if, like Harry, you have money to burn and are as gullible as a performing seal upwind of a bucket of herring. But like his self-professed sexual prowess, happiness for Harry is insincere and short-lived.
Public outrage, a heavy brush with the law, internet and tabloid smear campaigns, silicon-enhanced trophy girlfriends, sex tapes, extortion and blackmail: all are ushered perilously into his path by Harry himself.
In this subconscious search for love, praise and acceptance; this unwitting and near-suicidal exposé, it is unclear if Harry’s poisoned heart can ever be rescued; can ever be given the kiss of life and pulled from the dark abyss into which it has sunk. But there is hope, if only Harry can see beyond his prejudices in time to grasp it. His sight, however, is all-too-often distorted by visions of double-J and K cups, and timing has never been one of Harry’s stronger suits….
In a world overflowing with immature, mediocre talent and wildly inflated egos; a world where mortality rates dwarf those of the garlic-munching aristocracy at the time of the French Revolution (and rightly so), Harry Zapper views himself as crown prince to, and saviour of, the undeserving and inferior masses.
Would-be educator and literary messiah, Harry wallows in an ocean of vanity matched only by the jaw-dropping expanse of un-common sense and bigotry he displays on an almost daily basis. But Harry is an optimist and an unlikely survivor, and this fictional life story of a deluded and narrow-minded D-lister recounts the troubled rise, fall and desperate scrabbling of a man blighted by material greed and the misguided belief that he is both intellectual genius and irresistible Don Juan.
With his star approaching its grubby, yet twinkling zenith (a feat seemingly less likely than a Tory council laying on tea and biscuits for a caravan of Romanian gypsies), Harry’s world is everything he knew it would be. A bachelor pad and a penchant for the fuller-figured woman can be easily catered for if, like Harry, you have money to burn and are as gullible as a performing seal upwind of a bucket of herring. But like his self-professed sexual prowess, happiness for Harry is insincere and short-lived.
Public outrage, a heavy brush with the law, internet and tabloid smear campaigns, silicon-enhanced trophy girlfriends, sex tapes, extortion and blackmail: all are ushered perilously into his path by Harry himself.
In this subconscious search for love, praise and acceptance; this unwitting and near-suicidal exposé, it is unclear if Harry’s poisoned heart can ever be rescued; can ever be given the kiss of life and pulled from the dark abyss into which it has sunk. But there is hope, if only Harry can see beyond his prejudices in time to grasp it. His sight, however, is all-too-often distorted by visions of double-J and K cups, and timing has never been one of Harry’s stronger suits….
