The Shambling Horde in question is the great British public, possibly the great publics of other nations, should other authors join me.
Here's an example of something I've had to face in a 'retail capacity'. This is a true story, I wish it wasn't.
A customer, women in her mid-forties, came into the bookshop I work in, and asked me for any books we had by Enoch Powell. I was, as ever, staggeringly professional and did not punch her in the throat at all. "No, I'm afraid we don't." I said, "We may have books about Powell, but we've certainly nothing by him."
"Oh no, I'm afraid that won't do. You see, it's for my father's bithday. He's quite elderly, and he likes that sort of thing. You know - racism."
I've never heard of racism described as a hobby before.
2 comments:
That reminds me of the time the genial elderly man asked me if I had under the desk, in order to help him carry his books home, "a little black boy"
I can't beat that, but I can offer instead:
"Have you got a copy of Little black Sambo? You may not. It's banned in some places because [sarcastic intonation] it's offensive to some."
Oh, so there's a fine line between me laughing at that, and the dolts trying to get ,Tintin in the Congo pulled off the shelves, I know, but I will wager a shiny penny that the customer in question amnbled out of the building mumbling somethink very much like 'dem bliks...'
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