Tag: rub-a-dub-dub

This funny cartoon by fine artist and producer of post office tat David Shrigley has strong Mister Bob vibes.

This just in:

I finished Rub-A-Dub-Dub today. It has been a most treasured summer read for me. Brilliant and funny (I think I averaged one chortle per page). Hit me in the way the best Kurt Vonnegut books do: a humane portrait of the absurd, futile and grotesquely beautiful enterprise of being human.

So fuck this guy.

One chortle per page is good whack, by the way. The book is 281 pages, making it better for your abs than any kind of workout.

And this is the sort of thing I like to see:

Thanks to a Rub-A-Dub-Dub reader for telling me about the Society of Fat Mermaids. Fantastic.

There’s a moment of phone scrolling in the novel where Mister Bob plausibly stumbled upon this. Let’s choose to believe he did.

AJ sends me this picture he’s seen online because it looks like the character from my novel, especially in the book’s second act.

“The dude,” says a comment, “looks unbothered, moisturized, happy, in his lane. Thriving.”

“hot” says another.

“+1 on that dude,” says a third, “like, goddamn, hot.”

They’re not wrong. The artwork is a self portrait, so the praise leaves the artist blushing. The thread is nothing but a delight.

As it happens, Mac, the my novel’s cover artist based the canonical Mister Bob on himself too.

The overwhelming reaction to this artist’s sexiness made me think of that crappy review someone left about the book. How could anyone not love Mister Bob? Look at him. Clearly they didn’t stick around for the arc.

“Shimmering” is the word I used in the book trailer. Mister Bob is shimmering.

Some fan mail arrives for Mister Bob.

“I just wanted to pass on my thanks,” they write, “to Mister Bob for bringing Stendhal’s Scarlet and Black to my attention.”

To which I respond: “you’re very welcome. I will pass your message on to Mister Bob.”

I mean, he’s dead in 2024. But thanks to the magic of books, I have access to him through time.

Which is true.

*

Another recent mention of Mister Bob in real life.

Friend J is going to Portobello. “Look out for Mister Bob,” I say.

“Oh yeah,” he says, “I’m more concerned that I’ll be mistaken for him.”

*

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, here’s the book you need to buy.

I just got a rejection letter (yes, by post) for a novel I published over a year ago.

The novel is almost at the end of its life cycle. It’s been read, reviewed, reprinted, won a prize, and I’m halfway through writing the next one.

Nice going, publishers.

Little plot, plenty grot.

I obeyed the rule in Rub-A-Dub-Dub and I’m doing it again in the secret next thing.