Just got a call from my brother. He’s bought, and he wants me to sign, a copy of Little Book of Nits.
“It’s for some friends”, he says. “We stayed with them recently, and all their kids had head-lice”
I readily agree, but after we hang up, I contemplate the possibilities.
You’ve got to be REALLY good friends with someone to give them a book that is a direct comment on the state of their children’s verminous hair. And you have to be sure that you’ve accurately gauged the true measure of their humour.
This could all go horribly wrong.
It’s another sale though. Ring up those royalties, I say.