Scotland’s Jesus: The Only Officially Non-racist Comedian

Scotland’s Jesus: The Only Officially Non-racist Comedian
Frankie Boyle

Reading Scotland's Jesus should be like being called into the living room by your child shouting that they see a little red dot on the head of a TV newscaster, then riding the white hot bullet through the propaganda circuitry of his or her exploding brain.It's a funny book about the news, partly because it was decided that a pornographic book about Scottish Independence wouldn't really sell. In chapters ranging from International Politics to the Animal World, ‘Scotland's Jesus’ is allowed the opportunity to showcase his increasingly unsympathetic worldview and disintegrating psyche.A torrent of jokes about recent events provide the framework for a broader philosophical despair. Frankie Boyle uses the stories of the popular press as a springboard to explain the nature of reality and the details of our enslavement to mirthless corporate Warlocks.

COPYRIGHT (#u6f9e84ee-2fba-5712-ac9a-da09a5ff112a)

HarperCollinsPublishers 77-85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2013

FIRST EDITION

© Frankie Boyle 2013

Frankie Boyle asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

This book contains material previously published elsewhere, including in Frankie Boyle’s Sun columns

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2013 cover design by Lynn McGowan cover photographs © Chris McAndrew/Camera Press (portrait); Shutterstock.com (http://Shutterstock.com) (skyline).

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Source ISBN: 9780007426836

Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2013 ISBN: 9780007426867

Version: 2014-07-18

CONTENTS

Cover (#u345c9a46-7f9e-57b7-8a40-5fbd962e7f37)

Title Page (#ua8aff696-a4b1-50f3-84d8-aec2397d6cca)

Copyright

Introduction

1 Royals

2 Politics

3 Transport

4 War on Terror

5 Europe

6 Sport

7 TV

8 Animals

9 Economy

10 Celebs

11 Press

12 Science

13 Crime

14 Education and Kids, Yo!

15 Health

16 Internet

17 Relationships

18 Scotland

19 Religion

Endgame

Also By Frankie Boyle

About the Publisher

INTRODUCTION (#u6f9e84ee-2fba-5712-ac9a-da09a5ff112a)

There are many reasons why an author chooses to write a book. Perhaps, like me, they’re being paid a lot of money to write it. Or perhaps . . . nope, that’s all I can think of. The good people at HarperCollins did gently hint that I should make this book more commercial, so I had to ask myself about the nature of what’s popular in our culture. What do people really want? What would we hope to be offered by a book if we were being completely honest? Which is why I started writing the book you now hold in your hands. A crime porno.

The appeal for me was simple. How hard can it be to write a thousand words of porn every day? I probably text a thousand words of porn a day. The real problem was not only writing porn and letting the whole thing descend into a kaleidoscope of mouths and limbs and cocks and mouths and cocks. Cocks. And tits.

Hence crime. I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like a little vicarious contact with crime: from teenagers killing prostitutes in Grand Theft Auto as a bit of light-hearted escapism from their actual sex lives, to the talcum-powder market foaming their knickers at Daily Mail headlines. The appeal is complex but, for whatever reason, it excites us to hear about some cunt getting killed.

My teenage sexual awakening happened long before the internet. I used to hang out at my local library and scour thrillers for sex. I’d skim the sort of doorstoppers you’d find on your uncle’s bookshelf for words like ‘grasped’ and ‘thrust’. Occasionally looking up to stare slack mouthed at real women trying to borrow books, I rejected the opportunity for precocious learning and memorised reams of disjointed encounters between guilt-ridden adulterers, mercenaries and whores, and even the desperate couplings of a Southern slave plantation. Perhaps this has affected my adult life. I’ve spent this speeding disinterestedly through the bits central to the narrative, desperately looking forward to the occasional sexual episodes, which I haven’t fully understood.

So part of me imagines this book hitting the Scottish library system, and some wee Wifi-less schoolboy in Penicuik having his aching balls blown off by this filthy lightning bolt of premeditated degradation. Or some guy getting his teenage daughter it as a present, because he remembers me from Mock of the Week. Merry Christmas, love!