Extract from Bob Dollop by Robert Pennebaker

'Gaby Jenkins had hands like tectonic plates, grinding through meetings, earthquakes of maoeuvered fluidic clicking fingers booming in the hollow space. Salmon fillet cheeks, levelled timbre, rock cake eyes, loss for the ability to get wet, now a volcano of wanton, violent self-oppression, hovering to explode like a geyser over a geezer wielding a cucumber of girth.'

- Alex


'Lenny Spinks was a man, once a woman, now a man, a zucchini, botched surgery in a back alley slum, Scarface types counterfeiting laundered money buy pickle jar penises and tarnished scalpels. He spanked Gaby Jenkins for the possibility of their double-barrelled name: Spinks-Jenkins, the moan of a glory spurt, passport eligible semi-portmanteau, indulging in bastardisations: Spenkins, Jinks, Spenjinks. Today is Big Idea day. He has a big idea; it gobbles saliva.'

'He makes something of nothing, she laughs, he's a million dollar-sex beast, roaming carpet-tiled floors for spores and sustenance, a gold-toothed romp daddy 'cause his molars just gone melted away with that sugar he's been poofing. A quick window ledge glance ensures his beamer remains unscathed by youth puke and melting dogs, the child seat fastened, a brace, strait-jacket, combination reminder.'

'He makes something of nothing, she laughs, she's a rapscallion, a whore, scapegoat for cock orgies, a blue whale's mouth, beached, dry, barren, maybe he can jump start her in his beamer, mop up the sick and doberman piss and you've got yourself a night in, out, in, out, in, out, - this shit's stitched leather, optional extra, the car? A giant fist firing ash out of a cannon and prescription medication, the click of the child safety cap on her arthritic fingers, insipid blind panic no longer works or fears its own work.'