Publishing your own autobiography

Publishing your own autobiography.

I’ve just seen an ad. for a company that sends some poor Cunt around to listen to your recollections for 12 one-hour sessions. It then takes your old photos and boring tales and writes it all up for you. Customers then receive 12 hardback copies for them to give to their family and friends…no idea how much it costs, I was so appalled that I missed that part.

Fuck me,I’m no Shrinking Violet,but even I would baulk at the idea of inflicting people with the history of my life. As for the thought of some boring old coffin-dodger giving us the story of his mediocre, dull existence in hardback form..well,I’m speechless. It’s bad enough having to listen to some pensioner banging on about Old Auntie Ethel or whatever without having to look at photos of the Auld Trout too.

This must be the ultimate in Vanity Publishing and should be strongly discouraged by beating the author around the head with his own dreadful recollections.

Get Fucked.

 

Nominated by Dick Fiddler

65 thoughts on “Publishing your own autobiography

    • How about the book Peter Mandelson wants to publish quietly:

      “Weekend Cottaging With Mandy”

  1. In the age of Facefuck, selfies, instacunt and all sorts of other self promoting shit i’ve never heard of, this hardly comes as a surprise. Some smart arse has obviously spotted a gap in the market. Expect to see these shiny unread volumes turning up at boot fairs, at 20p a pop very soon.

  2. My life story would be very boring. Recounting the last 18 years of drinking like a fish and wanking like a safari park chimp.

    Yawn!

  3. If you’re vain enough to indulge in Vanity publishing, you’d better have a bloody big garage.

  4. I googled this shit and found several companies offering this cunt service.
    Prices range from 2 grand to 4,700.
    Presumably the 2 grand one is written by Katie Price.

  5. Most autobiographies of famous people are just a defense of their public lives. Chesterton’s is about his ‘inner life’. He spends a great deal of it reflecting two subjects; the Toy Theatre and the whether we deserve to experience the wonderful thing that is a Dandelion.

    • Puts me in mind of CJ de Mooi (of Eggheads “renown”). In 2016, he became subject to a European Arrest Warrent for revelations in this ponce’s autobiography. Something about canals in Amsterdam, as I recall. Although he was upsettingly never charged, it was a bit of a close call.
      Soft cunt.

  6. I would happily buy an autobiography by the esteemed Dick Fiddler. I especially look forward to the section “Sheep shagging in Northumberland” An old Wooler guy once told me ‘Always shag a sheep at the edge of a cliff so it pushes back on each thrust, ye kna”. On another topic, that Samsung phone advert is a right cunt. Never seen such a diverse advert before. Hardly a white face and full of pregnant lesbians. These advertising agencies are truly a bunch of cunts.

  7. I rarely find the time now but I used to enjoy reading autobiographies of people in the public eye that I disliked intensely. 9/10 I would find my dislike validated but it was always nice to come away with a different or altered opinion. Some noteable ones (not necessarily people I dislike):-

    Keef Richard
    Carrie fisher
    Bruce Reynolds (great train robber. Surprisingly intelligent and perceptive for this genre)
    Sid James
    Steve Jobs
    Alan Clark (diaries, not quite an autobiography but he really didn’t hold back on revealing what a depraved lowlife he actually was)

    DF: I would actually like to read yours to gain some insight into what turned you into the most misanthropic person I have ever met (beside myself)!

    • Afternoon,M-R.

      A lifetime of exposure to a tide of Wasters,Spongers and other people of whom I strongly disapprove has caused my misanthropy, I reckon.They’re to blame,the Cunts.

  8. ‘Fuck Off and Get Fucked’, a 233 page spell binding autobiography of Dick Fiddler. Each page jam packed with revelations and the twists and turns of a life well lived. Using only the words ‘Fuck’ and ‘Off’.

  9. Great cunting – couldn’t think of anything I’d rather read less.
    ….except maybe the guardian.

  10. Not quite so opprobrious, but Guy Garvey, of Elbow “fame” has got in bed with the BBC with something similar. Is this some variation on a current “meme” (argle-gargle)?
    Vainglorious wankers who are self-important enough to imagine that others give a fuck about their poncing little lives do indeed deserve, in my opinion, to be taken to the cleaners. I agree too, Mr F, that these cunts should be cudgeled senseless with the resultant worthless hardback tome.
    Good luck to these “ambulance-chasers of the publishing world” say I.

    • Garvey is destined to remain a B-Lister at best. He still feels the need to remind everyone who he is at every opportunity,: “Hi, Guy Garvey here, lead singer with Elbow”. Never heard him speak without the reminder.

      Well I can tell an arsehole from an elbow, so you can fuck off.

          • Thanks for that pithy correction, GS, I should have said “the arsehole from Elbow” myself, damn!
            I thought he was too obscure, hence the embedded link. I know I’d never heard of him or his band before this “record your parents/postman/dry-cleaner’s best friend” crap.

      • Reminds me of “David Gates, of Bread”, although Gates was OK, and Bread pretty successful.

  11. There’s the posthumous ones of course, Micheal Jackson’s “I’m Feeling A Little Behind” – which come to think of it could be a good title for a number of British pop singers……

  12. I would buy your autobiography Dick but only if Sir Limpy Stoke ghostwrites it haha lol I also don’t care if you overcharge for it because I know my hard earned money from buying the book will go to whiskey, guinness and thai prostitutes

    • Cheers, T.S.

      The bare bones of my life are already well documented in Burkes Peerage…my entry runs to several pages,of course. However,I’m now tempted to write the definitive version of my life-story. I’ve already got the opening chapter rough drafted. I’ll give you a small tempter to whet your appetite…

      “The church-bells rang out, the Serfs cheered, the Estate staff danced with joy and the peacocks honked with delight when the glorious news.was announced….young Squire Fiddler was safely delivered. The dynasty was saved. The extensive property and land-holdings were safe for another generation,no Fiddler would ever cede a yard of ground or as much as a bent farthing to the common good. The good ship “Welfare-State” and all who sailed in her could Get Fucked…..”

      Pretty impressive stuff, I’m sure you agree. Of course,modesty will forbid me from revealing the true feelings that a lifetime’s acquaintances obviously have for me. I’m not one to blow my own trumpet,as you well know.

      • Sounds delightful old chap I anticipate its release, pouring a glass of wine right now after another wonderful wanking session cheers m8 I just hope your book doesn’t get banned for hatespeech by the pc mob

        • @DF

          You said your tempting taster went into moderation earlier Dick, hard to imagine why, with no trigger words, etc that I can detect. Has it been edited?

          I’ve heard CMC has a book coming out soon, titled Fanny Fiddler’s Lover. The chances of that escaping the attention of Big Brother’s censors in 2019 are practically zero, I’d be willing to bet…

          • PS: re your biography, am much looking forward to the chapter dealing with Kevin Maguire, your several chainsaws, and notorious Greenmech wood-chipper.

      • I will be most interested in the description of Fiddler’s Towers. Is it an Gothic Castle of the 14th century or maybe an impregnable Norman fortress of the 11th? I suspect the Fiddler name goes back a long way. So probably the latter.

  13. Waugh wrote something like ‘memory is all we really possess’. That’s all we have in the end memories.

        • Know it well caughtspedding.

          Your username keeps triggering the name Chris Spedding in my mind. And that leads onto ‘Motorbiking’ and my thought runs then to the fact he was a Womble. Then he played the guitar in Never Mind the Bollocks instead of Steve Jones.

          My favourite track of CS ‘Jump in my Car’. You a fan?

          Long way from Waugh. From memory my favourite bit in it is when Freeman starts-‘I would like to ask you a question now…(goes on)….and what effect did that have on you…Waugh; ‘That’s two questions’.

          • Better clarify that it was rumoured to be Chris Spedding that played. Of course it was Steve Jones.

          • I have borderline heard of him, and a quick peruse of his wiki page makes me think I should know him far better. Any guitarist so deeply involved with the likes of Roxy Music, John Cale, Roy Harper &c must be pretty impressive. Slightly before my time, I suppose.
            Spookily, I’d mentioned the Wombles on here yesterday, but in the context of Bulgaria, the cuntry.
            My username is actually pretty random, and comes from another blog where David Spedding (head of SIS/MI6 1994-99) was of some slight relevance. I recently made a gravatar on WordPress, and that’s all. I’m James. I don’t ride a motorbike any more either, but may start again!

          • Spot on with the John Freeman interview, a bit of a classic. I enjoyed Waugh toking away on costly cigars, while claiming “poverty”. Everything’s relative, I suppose!

          • Chris Spedding played on the great Jack Bruce album Harmony Row and was part of Jack’s touring band. Also, listen to Chris’s Guitar Jamboree.

          • Sinistertwat. It was one of those albums you got on a bin in a record shop for a quid or something. And it becomes one of your favourites. Lost in transit. Guitar Jamboree. So clever. I am trying to remember it now. Must google it. But my favourite as I say ‘Jump in my Car’. If that’s even the song title. The point I want to make about that is is a very rare funny song that isn’t a novelty song. Just a very funny song. Similar to the wit of Kink’s lyrics.

  14. My sister-in-law’s nan did this. I asked if i could a hsve a look. Ureadable shite that had obviously been dictated to a typist without much editing or rephrasing to make it more literary.

    Daft old git.

  15. Afternoon Dick. A most worthy cunting indeed.

    Btw, how are you getting on with your actual book? The working title of which, last time I checked, was:

    ‘The Cunting Postman Had Fucking Well Better Not Ring Twice If He Bloody Well Knows What’s Good For Him, Bastardising Wanker’

    Only asking because you haven’t mentioned it recently.

    A runaway Easter bestseller if ever there was one…

    • Afternoon,RTC.

      I’ve actually just tackled this subject in my reply to TitSlapper…it’s been moderated. Hopefully it’ll pop up at some stage.

  16. I am actually in the middle of my biography,
    The title is “I know naffink abaaaaht it”, it is full of tales of fraud, smuggling, dodgy dealing, using prostitutes and getting out of it on drugs.
    All free for the cunt(s) that are interested, although any class A or B or ill gotten gains will be glady accepted (As a contribution) and appreciated and consumed.

    • Part two will be my predicted fall from the grand heights I am currently enjoying. I haven’t thought of a title yet but i was thinking of “Its the white mans fault”

          • I’ve managed to escape Lutonistab with only a broken driver’s side window during my stint in that particular Kalifate!

            If I never have to go back to that “peaceful” shithole ever again in my life it will be too soon!

            Hateful fucking place!

  17. I think mine would be called “How to bullshit your way through life and get away with it”

  18. “Tony Blair: My Part in His Evisceration” is my current working title. Still waiting for him to be gutted, though.

  19. Dirk Bogarde wrote about 12 volumes of autobiography. Some are pretty good and others dull. He was a.miserable so and so and spends all his time moaning about everybody including a friend who came visit him in his home in Provence. The poor guy had a fatal illness and died shortly afterwards but Bogarde had no sympathy and moaned about having to put him into bed and call a doctor. He also never mentioned that he was a pillowbiter and lived with a “companion” as they called it in those days. Nowadays that would be the selling point but Bogarde was the old kind of homosexual who kept his sexual life to himself. Anyway Dick Fiddle – write on!

    • He was 1/2 Glaswegian, and 1/2 Belgian on his father’s side.
      Had plenty to be miserable about…

  20. My autobiography would be brief and to the point:

    ‘Nothing went as fucking planned and it all turned into one giant clusterfuck’.

    THE END.

    For the sake of fuck, what more bollocks is going to go on the market for the great unwashed?

    • What’s better than roses on my piano? Tulips on my organ.

      Lockheed SR-71 fuelled-up, oxygen mask applied.

  21. I actually paid to have mine done. I got older in each chapter but the story rarely changed.

    I got the book back and started to read it but then I was startled by a creepy pair of twins…

    Beer, tabs & scratchings makes Rebel a dull boy!
    Beer, tabs & scratchings makes Rebel a dull boy!
    Beer, tabs & scratchings makes Rebel a dull boy!
    Beer, tabs & scratchings makes Rebel a dull boy!
    Beer, tabs & scratchings makes Rebel a dull boy!
    Beer, tabs & scratchings makes Rebel a dull boy!
    Beer, tabs & scratchings makes Rebel a dull boy!
    Beer, tabs & scratchings makes Rebel a dull boy!
    Beer, tabs & scratchings makes Rebel a dull boy!
    Beer, tabs & scratchings makes Rebel a dull boy!
    Beer, tabs & scratchings makes Rebel a dull boy!
    Beer, tabs & scratchings makes Rebel a dull boy!

    …but hey, that’s Jedward for you!

    Audio edition read by Scatman Crothers.

    Signed edition free to the winner of my Rebel trivia competition (TBC).

    2nd prize is two free signed copies.

  22. Excerpt from RT Creampuff’s autobiography, The Early Years, chapter 6: A Day In The Life.

    It was getting near dawn and we were all feeling very ill, so Mummy woke us up and said we would all be having straight bananas for tea. Johnny immediately wet his bed, so Mummy crushed his hips with a piece of steel piping and left him squealing with a mouth full of cement.

    After lunch Mummy made Daddy a nice cup of tea laced with industrial waste, which he enjoyed whilst watching Come Dine With Me in his strait-jacket. Then Granny shuffled in, supported by her scaffolding, wearing an old doormat and a pair of tea coseys. Mummy led her to the darkest corner of the room, removed the castors from her scaffolding, and popped a stale doughnut in her toothless old gum factor. By now Daddy was complaining that he couldn’t hear the TV due to the noise of the cement mixer, so Mummy attacked his chest with a pneumatic drill, rendering him unconscious till tea time.

    As she returned to her site office by the fireside, familiar screams could be heard erupting from the kitchen: Johnny had burnt his fingers in the oven reaching for Mummy’s straight bananas for tea. She sighed and wished her offspring were dead. Dead as dogs, she thought. Dead as the dog she’d caught vomiting over her freshly laid tarmac in the hall.

    The dog, which was buried in the garden, which was buried in the world, which was buried in the galaxy, which was buried in the universe, which was buried in nothingness, knew nothing of the day’s events.

    • This is a masterpiece. Bulgakov would have been proud.
      I think the Mother part could be played by Maureen Lipman, with Thatcheresque undertones.
      I suspect Granny is Gordon Brown in drag.
      Straight bananas to be “interpreted” by Messrs. Linekunt and Nesbitt

      • You are the kindest amongst us Belinda.

        Have to admit Bulgakov is unknown to me, but a quick Google search suggests I should make his acquaintance asap.

Comments are closed.