Written by dulcie gabbani
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Wednesday, 4 July 2012

image for 50 Shades of Grey or 10 Shades of S**t

50 Shades of Grey by E L James

V

10 Shades of Shit by Chantelle Battersby

50 Shades of grey is the book of the moment. Everybody is trying to get their hands on a copy of this book of "Mummy Porn". But is it as good as all the hype makes it out to be. ?
A local first time author, Chantelle Battersby from Miles Platting Manchester, claims that author E L James had stolen her idea for the steamy novel. Chantelle insists that her book would have been on sale first, if she could have found a publisher, and if there hadnt been so many spelling mistakes to correct. She says she got the title for her book, 10 Shades of Shit, from the playful punches her boyfriend would sometimes deliver when she was late getting his tea ready.

To show that her book is close to her rivals in content, we have been given permission to reprint a section, so you may judge for yourselves....


An extract from 10 Shades of Shit by Chantelle Battersby


"As he approached with those pasty white arms hanging out of his Henley's vest, his smile told me it was benefit day and I knew my velour tracky bottoms would be hanging off the lamp shade tonight."

"It was Dwayne's birthday. I was preparing his special tea of Findus Crispy Pancakes and Pot Noodle. I would let him take me any way he wanted tonight. His favourite position was what he called....The Dogs of War. Where he takes me from behind and plays Call of Duty at the same time."

"Our 6 week anniversary was approaching. This would be my longest relationship without becoming pregnant. I thought of this as he lay on top of me making love. His skinny arms straddled my salon tanned face, like breadsticks either side of an orange. As I rubbed his whiter than white back I imagined every mole and spot I felt, was spelling out "I love you", in Braille"

"As I stood in line at the Job Centre thinking of reasons why I couldn't work, a sweet smell drifted past my pig like nostrils. It was a mixture of weed, B.O and Lynx Africa. I turned around and there was Dwayne. Our eyes met and he was soon lifting me onto the wheelie bins behind the Iceland shop. He had tied up his Staffy to block the alley way so we wouldn't be disturbed. There was a tramp watching but it just added to the mystery.

"I knew it was love and my life would never be the same." "My mum had told me to leave Dwayne many times due to the violence but I knew he loved me and treated me like a lady, as he always took his rings off before he hit me. Tonight though he was in a foul mood, I had fucked up his tea after failing to defrost the prawn ring I'd nicked from Farm Foods.

He picked up the power lead from my kids mega drive and whipped it across my flabby arse. It stung but I liked it. I shouted again and again so he carried on. I thought my shell suit would rip into a million pieces. As I looked over my shoulder I saw his Weetabix toothed smile. He even had a semi on, which was rare, as the heroin normally plays havoc with his erections...

Book critic Brian Sewage comments, " Well, what a delightfully gritty piece of northern fiction this is. My reaction was similar to the time I first saw Botticelli's Venus de Milo and I thought my senses would burst. We have here wonderfully rounded characters combined with scenic descriptions of the most ethereal quality. It's as if the author has combined the effulgence of Shakespeare with the celestial grandeur of Mickey Spillane. You are there in the living room or alley way and as though living alongside them in all the vicissitudes of their domestic existence. As an ordinary person might describe it 'a real page-turner' - it is supreme among one-handed reading material. Read it, dear friends".

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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