In a couple of weeks time I am off on holiday. It’s a true “forget about culture, just enjoy the sun”, kind of holiday.
It’ll be a week of the Blackberry left out of arm’s reach – in the knowledge that any email I send after a few rum punches is probably best left un-sent.
And I have a confession to make.
My only reading when I am at the beach (oh hell, let me confess properly, my only reading most of the time) is thrillers that deserve the description “trashy”.
I mean the kind of thriller specifically edited and designed to jump out at you from the shelves of an airport bookstore.
In fact, the covers are so heavy with embossed lettering, and the straplines so over-blown in their claims (“A conspiracy born before the dawn of man threatens the most powerful man on earth…”, that sort of thing) that no self respecting bookstore farther than 500 metres from a runway would ever stock it.
But this time, I have “The Donald” (you know, the uniquely coiffured, business “guru”, new Presidential aspirant Mr Donald Trump) to thank for broadening my holiday reading.
For in a few weeks, I will be able to enjoy the beaches of Cobblers Cove while clutching his recent statements and speeches.
And Dan Brown eat your heart out; they are a much better read for a trash thriller aficionado like me than anything you have produced for years.
Allow me licence to pretend for a moment that I am both the reader and, for a moment, the Private Eye style editor of this new super thriller and describe it to you….
Read about the adventures of a plucky billionaire, heroically investigating a conspiracy that started in 1961.
For in that year, the Hawaii Department of Health’s Bureau of Vital Statistics came together with the Honolulu Star-Advertiser, the Honolulu Star-Bulletin and the family of Mr And Mrs Barack H Obama to plot the corruption of a Presidential election then 47 years in their future.
They conspired to describe his actual birth in Indonesia/Kenya/somewhere else as a birth in Hawaii (Surely it would have been easier for the conspirators to just actually have him born in the USA? – Ed.)
They knew that plotting to get a black man into the White House would be a dead cert (really? – Ed.)
All they had to do give him a tragic, difficult childhood, which would surely see him effortlessly fight his way to Harvard, become a community organiser, fight a seemingly hopeless Senate seat which comes good because a former Star Trek actress accuses his opponent of abuse, deliver a landmark speech, defeat the dynastic front-runner of the Democratic Party by a whisper, win the general election against popular war hero, be sworn in by a Chief Justice who can’t even get the oath of office right and so slip seamlessly into the Oval Office. (A bit over-complicated? – Ed.)
Now Leader of the Free World, he will implement the secret plan to deliver the USA to socialism. (But didn’t the Democrats just lose an election to the Republicans? – Ed.)
But then, at the last moment, our Billionaire detective rips the mask off this evil plan, ejects the interloper from the Lincoln Bedroom, banishing his socialism and his wife’s pinko healthy eating initiatives for good, and returns the good old USA to the path, of truth, justice and freedom.
I can see it now, in fact, I want to bid for the film rights.
Denzel Washington is Barack, Samuel L Jackson is Barack Sr, Oprah Winfrey is Michelle, Will Smith, the young Barack and, of course, a be-wigged Tom Hanks playing our plucky Billionaire.
Anyone know the phone number for Paramount Pictures?
But before that, at the very least, my beach plans for 2011. Sorted.