It’s better to be honest. I’m not really Dominic Penhale. The book was written by a team of award-winning chimpanzees, who laboured long and hard under the theoretical pretence that they could recreate the Complete Works of Shakespeare by bashing frantically on their 1950’s Hermes 3000 typewriters, day and night, banana or no banana. Using the infinity principle of Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity, only death could prevent success.
In the end, death couldn’t come soon enough, but they did thrash out Looking for Eden in the meantime, which was a half decent first stab – though it does lack the passion of Romeo and Juliet, the heroic battles of Richard III Part One, and the ass of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
But what it lacks in literary prowess it makes up for in profanities. In this respect it is a truly prodigious force.
For example, after our lead character, Jack, has a particularly harrowing dream, his tender and kindly girlfriend Carol, winces:
“You screamed ‘CLUSTER FUCK’,”
Profound words I know, but that’s what happens when you put your life in the hands of a few hand-picked apes.
That “oh” at the end there, by the way – well, a word that is that well positioned and nuanced doesn’t just happen by chance. It’s what Hollywood writing teams get up and go to work for every day.
I truly don’t know what more I can add. I think I may already have said too much. I suppose I could sign off by saying that I have a team of Bonobos writing the sequel ‘The Iron Age Man’ – a sex fuelled romp through the shires of middle England – as befits a troop of bonobos.
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