“Declan Burke is his own genre. The Lammisters dazzles, beguiles and transcends. Virtuoso from start to finish.” – Eoin McNamee “This bourbon-smooth riot of jazz-age excess, high satire and Wodehouse flamboyance is a pitch-perfect bullseye of comic brilliance.” – Irish Independent Books of the Year 2019 “This rapid-fire novel deserves a place on any bookshelf that grants asylum to PG Wodehouse, Flann O’Brien or Kyril Bonfiglioli.” – Eoin Colfer, Guardian Best Books of the Year 2019 “The funniest book of the year.” – Sunday Independent “Declan Burke is one funny bastard. The Lammisters ... conducts a forensic analysis on the anatomy of a story.” – Liz Nugent “Burke’s exuberant prose takes centre stage … He plays with language like a jazz soloist stretching the boundaries of musical theory.” – Totally Dublin “A mega-meta smorgasbord of inventive language ... linguistic verve not just on every page but every line.Irish Times “Above all, The Lammisters gives the impression of a writer enjoying himself. And so, dear reader, should you.” – Sunday Times “A triumph of absurdity, which burlesques the literary canon from Shakespeare, Pope and Austen to Flann O’Brien … The Lammisters is very clever indeed.” – The Guardian

Thursday, August 2, 2007

“HR Pufnstuf / He’s Your Friend When Things Get Rough …”

… especially when we have to write those blummin’ trumpet-blowing puff-pieces. Happily for us, we keep the boy Pufnstuf chained up in the basement of Crime Always Pays Towers and force him to work his magical puffery for us, evil swine-elves that we are. Over to you, HR:
“Ahem. Thank you, evil swine-elves. Well, first off, the ever wonderful Critical Mick is hosting an interview with Chief Evil Swine-Elf Declan Burke, most of which seems to be a load of old cobblers about sharks, Spartans, Francis Wilson reading the Sky weather reports, trading karate kicks with Westlife, interviewing Leonard Cohen, the joys of DIY publishing and how his wife won’t let him have a cat because she’s secretly jealous of them. Then there’s Pulp Pusher, bless their cotton socks, who for some reason best known only to themselves have posted up a piece by the Chief Evil Swine-Elf where he talks a lot about toilet brushes and the difficulty in flushing rejection letters. I ask you, is this literature? Back in my day, we had real writers. And they didn’t talk about toilet brushes. Except maybe that DH Lawrence. And James Joyce liked poo-stains. But other than them, it was ….”
Erm, yes. Cheers, HR - now here’s a hookah, go away and do what you do best …

2 comments:

rkfinnell said...

I find it amusing that I used to watch this Saturday mornings as a kid. My children don't know the hell of no cable.

Peter Rozovsky said...

I thought Andrew Vachss' Burke was the one to be your friend when things got rough.
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Detectives Beyond Borders
"Because Murder Is More Fun Away From Home"
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