The Post Where I Consider Having Sex With a Tree. Or a Bit of Pavement.

If I encounter any more upheaval and heartache over the next couple of days I think I’m going to explode. Or thrive. Probably thrive. I found out yesterday that my wife is pregnant. Now, I understand that we are going through a divorce and I am genuinely pleased and touched that she’s pregnant but it is still quite a thing to discover that your wife – your own wife – is pregnant with another man’s child. Quite a thing. Such a thing, in fact, that as soon as I heard the news I thought, “Right, I’ll show her. I’m going to go and get someone pregnant. And maybe not just someone, but loads of someones. I might go and get ten people pregnant. That’ll show her.”

So I went off to the beach and smoked loads of cigarettes and tried to look all sexy and French but there wasn’t really anyone about, certainly not anyone who looked like they might want to get pregnant. “Fuck this,” I thought, “Fuck getting someone pregnant. Everyone gets someone pregnant – how about getting something pregnant. I could get a dog pregnant or a bear pregnant. That’ll show her. It would also help with the writing of College Dog-Bear in about eighteen years time when my half boy/half dog-bear is ready to pursue higher education.”

But the thought of having sex with a dog or a bear didn’t really appeal. “I could get a tree pregnant,” I thought. “Could I fuck a tree? Probably. Or a bush? Hippies apparently used to hug trees and bushes, why not bang one? Why not become a super-hippy? Or a pavement? Or a bin? Could I sink that low that I could actually have sex with a bin? Yeah, definitely.”

Well, yes, of course I’m going slowly mad and, yes, there may well be a point in the future where I do try and settle down with a tree or a bit of pavement or a bin but that day isn’t upon us quite yet. When it does happen though, it’s going to be spectacular.

In other news, someone on Twitter said about this award-winning blog and my pitches that they found the “whole oh-so-self deprecating thing wildly annoying” and that “nobody should try that hard to be funny.” Well I’ve got news for you sunshine: the pitches sent out at the end of last week were splendidly received and I thought they were ace. How’s that for self-deprecation? Not very good, I reckon. Out of the six sent, four have been replied to and all favourably; two with pretty much definite offers of work. And of the two editors who are yet to reply, one of them, Mike Rampton, is definitely going to reply and offer me work because he reads this blog, is the most talented writer I know, and responds well to flattery.

I don’t know whether I should post up the replies though. Should I post up the replies? It feels wrong. But of course I should. The monster that is Pitching the World has been rumbling along for a year and a half and I really should be putting up replies from editors. I will then, but not yet.

In the meantime I was looking over my archives (yes, I do have archives) at the weekend (yes, I do have weekends) and came across (yes, I do come across stuff) this ‘introductory’ letter from an editor who used to oversee a couple of magazines that I wrote columns and features for. I found it pretty annoying and it made me want to give up journalism. The stuff about his supreme skill set nearly had me smashing up my office and I feel that in his sign-off he is trying too hard to be funny. Nobody should try that hard to be funny.

Peace out.

From: Redacted

To: Pitching the World

Date: 29 May 2008 14:12

Subject: SOLDOUT MYSTERY SHOPPER 

Hi Pitching the World,

I will be dealing with you from now on.

Firstly I would like to say that I enjoy your writing and I think you are extremely funny! Now that rapport has been developed I will move on to the business side of things.

I was the assistant editor before Kimberly arrived and I aided her through the process while she was here. I am however part of the sales team, but I specialise in media and writing and was furiously multi tasking. I will be moving to the editorial side of things once we have secured sufficient sales people to replace my supreme skill set.

We are focusing on Reading this month and I have selected out 5 estate agents that I hope will be a good bet. I have attached them in a word doc. The sooner you can crack on with these the better, I will keep you posted on the cover stories and features for Sold-Out and TIA.

All the best Pitching the World, and lay off the pints!

Ed


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19 responses to “The Post Where I Consider Having Sex With a Tree. Or a Bit of Pavement.

  1. Put up this twatter’s twatting twitter name and I’ll twat him!

  2. I can imagine that was shocking news to hear about your ex-wife. So sorry Pitchy, it’s incredible how fast things move on. Good about the work though, very good!

  3. Bin bags? They make for better lovers than actual bins, I found.

    I once had sex with a blow-up doll in the woods and then afterwards dug a hole and buried it in a bin liner. Some would say that’s sick, and they’d be right, but it was also the only practical thing to do. I offer you this as a potential way out of your conundrum.

  4. OMFG C is preggers?!?!?! for reals?? shit. I need to have more contact with people in real life and find out less info about people via blogs. Maybe I should actually return home and have conversations with people instead of habitually checking friends’ blogs from afar.

    …..But since I can’t return home for a couple of weeks (hopefully no delays, pretty please Icelandic volcanos!) please do post those replies Pitchy! Will just have to pretend you’re relaying the info over a pint rather than in cyberspace.

  5. Thanks everyone. Yeah, she’s preggers for reals CB. And are you suggesting, Fandango, that a way out of my conundrum (if that’s what it is) is to make love to a blow-up doll, put it in a bin liner afterwards, then bury it? Because if you are (and you are) then that’s what’s going to happen.

  6. I was recently at a friend’s house for tea. We were quietly nattering to her Mum about bathroom décor. As you do with tea. Suddenly her father who had been silent for the last hour watching golf said ‘Does the bathroom have a blow-up doll in it?’ then he went back to his shortbread. I turned my head so fast in shock, to look at him that I hurt my neck. No one knows why he said it. Least of all his wife who looked quite upset. I thought he was the coolest, smiling to myself – sipping away. I have no idea why I have told you this, Sorry Pitchy.

  7. Thanks Marge. I think “Does the bathroom have a blow-up doll in it?” could become my new catchphrase.

  8. And today’s search terms so far:

    crack house 8
    frank mcgrath 6
    forearm 3
    forearms 2
    pitching the world 2
    what is national express coaches like 1
    pitching hte world 1
    pitching ht ewolrd 1
    ticket for eating toast 1
    pitchigthe world 1
    hallucinated mouse 1
    pitching th eworld 1
    pitching to the world 1

    What the hell is a “ticket for eating toast”? Please let me know – I want one.

  9. Aren’t you more worried about crack house?

  10. Crack house I can understand Lisa, tickets for eating toast I can’t.

  11. Lisa and Pitchy, why don’t you get tog3ether and have toasted crack (or is that the same thing?) Or toast in a crack? or be Irish and have da Craic. My flatmate Tom says finish the fucking book you pillock.

  12. get marge up da duff why dont u shakespeare

  13. moderate please

  14. Gosh, isn’t this rather spicy, full of humour, realism, emotional turmoil and matter of fact life. Firstly, dear author, I effect my apologies immediately for such turmoil by all accounts. Where does one begin? Velvet red wine, an intensely sunny day, cut green grass, the whisp of a sheer skirt as it brushes past while I stand at the bar. All these things make me and hopefully you, dear author remember that love and beauty can indeed be found when you chose to look and that what is right for you will indeed take occur (the blow-up doll?). Bon chance!

  15. I don’t moderate for nuttin’ Tom. Gregory, you’re a flowery little bundle of fun aren’t you. Please stick around – I’ll send you a fiver in a card if you do.

  16. Marge thanks for the idea; however I don’t do toast, craic or drink. I am sure Pitchy and I will meet one day.

  17. Indeed Hugh. Shall I tell you who isn’t a twat? You, that’s who.

  18. Is he trying to be friendly by being sarcastic at the end, or is he being serious and therefore just full of shit?
    Great post! Sorry about the news.

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