THIS IS THE KINDLE EDITION OF ROBERT RANKIN’S 1999 BOOK, “SNUFF FICTION”. NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH TERRY PRATCHETT’S 2011 BOOK “SNUFF”.
He was the tender blender with the blinder grinder.
The master blaster with the louder powder.
The geezer with the sneezer that’s a real crowd pleaser.
He was The Sultan of Snuff.
He was known as The Doveston and this is his story.
Return with us now to another age.
Tune in to the first ever teenage party, held in Brentford in 1963, a party that set the standard for all teenage parties to come.
Turn on to Brentstock, the free love music festival held on the local allotments that became the inspiration for Woodstock.
Drop out as Rankin predicts that smoking will be banned in public places, years before this comes to pass. Then smirk as he also predicts that snuff-snorting will take its place.
Watch society collapsing into chaos, with a smile on its face and a finger up its nose. While this book goes on to answer the BIG QUESTIONS.
Is there really a Secret World Government?
Did Michael Jackson really die in Bramfield, Sussex. in1999, at a New Year’s Eve party?
Does painting things with opaque ultra-violet paint really make them invisible to the human eye?
Did Norman the Brentford shopkeeper’s electric Peacock Suit really make him irresistible to women?
Did Uncle Jon Peru Joans really create a man-eating hybrid of sprout and basilisk, which walks abroad upon the Sussex Downs?
Was this book an accurate prediction of future events, or just the rabid rantings of a snuff-crazed technophobe?
The latter!
SNUFF FICTION is the biography of The Doveston, the shuffling lad, who would go on to become an entrepreneur, snuff baron, media mogul, mover and shaker and shaper of future society Any resemblance between him and any member of the Murdoch family is purely coincidential. Much of the book is based upon fact, chronicling as it does a number of Rankin’s childhood experiences. The Doveston is David Doveston, the author’s best friend during his teenage years and considering some of the strokes the two of them got up to, it is a wonder they stayed out of prison!
He was the tender blender with the blinder grinder.
The master blaster with the louder powder.
The geezer with the sneezer that’s a real crowd pleaser.
He was The Sultan of Snuff.
He was known as The Doveston and this is his story.
Return with us now to another age.
Tune in to the first ever teenage party, held in Brentford in 1963, a party that set the standard for all teenage parties to come.
Turn on to Brentstock, the free love music festival held on the local allotments that became the inspiration for Woodstock.
Drop out as Rankin predicts that smoking will be banned in public places, years before this comes to pass. Then smirk as he also predicts that snuff-snorting will take its place.
Watch society collapsing into chaos, with a smile on its face and a finger up its nose. While this book goes on to answer the BIG QUESTIONS.
Is there really a Secret World Government?
Did Michael Jackson really die in Bramfield, Sussex. in1999, at a New Year’s Eve party?
Does painting things with opaque ultra-violet paint really make them invisible to the human eye?
Did Norman the Brentford shopkeeper’s electric Peacock Suit really make him irresistible to women?
Did Uncle Jon Peru Joans really create a man-eating hybrid of sprout and basilisk, which walks abroad upon the Sussex Downs?
Was this book an accurate prediction of future events, or just the rabid rantings of a snuff-crazed technophobe?
The latter!
SNUFF FICTION is the biography of The Doveston, the shuffling lad, who would go on to become an entrepreneur, snuff baron, media mogul, mover and shaker and shaper of future society Any resemblance between him and any member of the Murdoch family is purely coincidential. Much of the book is based upon fact, chronicling as it does a number of Rankin’s childhood experiences. The Doveston is David Doveston, the author’s best friend during his teenage years and considering some of the strokes the two of them got up to, it is a wonder they stayed out of prison!
