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Murder Most Fab
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- Nombre de pages368
- FormatePub
- ISBN978-1-4070-2243-7
- EAN9781407022437
- Date de parution04/09/2008
- Protection num.Adobe DRM
- Infos supplémentairesepub
- ÉditeurEbury Digital
Résumé
Hello, I'm Johnny Debonair and this is my book - Murder Most Fab. Buy it. You won't regret it. Everything that has happened so publicly is explained. Of course, I'd prefer it if you remember me as I was at my height, before the past caught up with me so spectacularly - TV's Mr Friday Night with an enviable lifestyle and the nation at my feet. My fame might have looked easy to you at the time, but getting to the top of the celebrity ladder is hard work.
It took talent, beauty, commitment and, uniquely in my case, a number of unfortunate deaths. If we were being picky you might describe me as a serial killer, but I really don't see myself that way. It sounds trite to say 'one thing led to another' but it's true. As you'll discover I owe something of my rise and my fall to three individuals: my mother, an eccentric country girl who taught me exhibitionism by hanging naked from the clocktower of Hythe town hall; Catherine, my best friend, then partner in business - a devil in red heels, who, in her clear Essex accent, taught me how to 'look after number one'; and Timothy, who broke my heart and caused me to seek refuge in sex, money and celebrity.
But in the end you have to take responsibility for your own actions. No one was forcing me, were they? I hope you, the public, can forgive me and enjoy this sordid tale for what it is - my final entertainment for you.
It took talent, beauty, commitment and, uniquely in my case, a number of unfortunate deaths. If we were being picky you might describe me as a serial killer, but I really don't see myself that way. It sounds trite to say 'one thing led to another' but it's true. As you'll discover I owe something of my rise and my fall to three individuals: my mother, an eccentric country girl who taught me exhibitionism by hanging naked from the clocktower of Hythe town hall; Catherine, my best friend, then partner in business - a devil in red heels, who, in her clear Essex accent, taught me how to 'look after number one'; and Timothy, who broke my heart and caused me to seek refuge in sex, money and celebrity.
But in the end you have to take responsibility for your own actions. No one was forcing me, were they? I hope you, the public, can forgive me and enjoy this sordid tale for what it is - my final entertainment for you.
