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My birth was easy; I slipped out like a greasy turd. Cleared of deviancy I turned to look at the
host, a ruffled looking creature of perhaps thirty. I noticed in disgust that mucus had pooled in the pronounced cleft of
her chin and as I was placed in flab dimpled arms I frantically tried to wipe it away. Interpreted as affection this elicited
knowing chuckles from the assembled professionals, all of whom were sodden with perspiration and blood. I have yet to reason
why so many were present at my conjuring - perchance the stars ordained my coming?
Thus begins England, my England, the controversial tale of a particularly English killer.
Born of working class parents in a market town, witness his bloody struggle against bullies, teachers, liberals,
the aristocracy, and a bloated culture screaming for annihilation. And the cat.
Over three thousand copies
sold!
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