Here is the first paragraph of the first chapter of my first book. I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to comment on anything. I´ll be posting some more samples to give you a flavour of how I´ve approached such a delicate subject with the all the tact of a bull in a china shop.
Jehovah’s Witnesses, who the Devil are they?
On the 30th of July 1964 in the brightly lit delivery ward of a crumbly old pre-war hospital, I found myself struggling through my Mother’s birth canal with all the grace of a fat man swimming through tapioca. After much desperate pushing by Mum from one end and lots of optimistic pulling by the mid-wife, at the other, I finally emerged from the whole torrid episode, bloodied, knackered, and above all, absolutely furious. As I’m often reminded, I appeared that day as a little ball of fury, screaming blue murder. I cried, as all babies do, at the shock of having been forcefully evicted from my perfectly good home without any prior consultation, for having had my bottom slapped unnecessarily hard by a nurse who was obviously angry with me for having given her such a difficult morning, and because now I was in the real world, where emotions and pain took centre stage. I know now that in that moment, as I took my first greedy breaths of sanitised hospital air, if I’d been able to see what the following twenty years held in store for me, it’s likely that I would have kept on screaming and screaming; until such time as my mother felt obliged to give me away.