Frankie Boyle - Work! Consume! Die!

FRANKIE

BOYLE

WORK! CONSUME! DIE!

Copyright

First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2011

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

© Frankie Boyle 2011

Illustrations by Nick Morley

Frankie Boyle asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

The novel element of this book (identified by the italic type) is a work of fiction. The fictional names and characters are the work of the author’s imagination, as are the incidents portrayed in it. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

The remaining chapters (identified by the upright type) contain previously published material.

p. iii John Dos Passos, Manhattan Transfer © the estate of John Dos Passos; p. 14 Slavoj Žižek, Violence (Profile Books, 2009); p. 76 Hakim Bey, Immediatism, reproduced by kind permission of Autonomedia; p. 76 R. D. Laing, The Politics of Experience © R. D. Laing, 1967. Reproduced by permission of Penguin Books Ltd; p. 94 Bret Easton Ellis, The Informers © Bret Easton Ellis, 1994; p. 122 Raj Patel, The Value of Nothing, published by Portobello Books © Raj Patel, 2009; p. 148 David Icke, Children of the Matrix, reproduced by kind permission of David Icke books; pp. 161–162 Obituary of Jeff Conaway by Ronald Bergan, 30 May 2011 © Guardian News & Media Ltd 2011; p. 168 C. P. Snow, reproduced by kind permission of Curtis Brown Group Ltd; p. 182 Thomas Geoghegan, The Law in Shambles, reproduced by kind permission of Prickly Paradigm Press; p. 190 and p. 302 Terence McKenna, reproduced by kind permission of the estate of Terence McKenna; p. 228 Robert Anton Wilson, permission granted by Writers House LLC as Agent for the Estate of Robert Anton Wilson; p. 252 Noam Chomsky, What We Say Goes © 2007 by Aviva Chomsky and David Barsamian. Reprinted by arrangement with Henry Holt & Co; p. 270 David Madsen, Memoirs of a Gnostic Dwarf, reproduced by courtesy of Dedalus Ltd © 1995.

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978-0-00-742678-2 (hardback) ISBN 978-0-00-742680-5 (trade paperback)

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Ebook Edition © SEPTEMBER 2011 ISBN: 9780007426812

Version 2016-10-17

Dedication Dedication Epigraph Introduction Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 What Next? Acknowledgements About the Author Credits Back Ad About the Publisher

If rape, poison, dagger and arson

Have not as yet adorned with their pleasing artistry

the banal canvas of our piteous destinies

It is, alas, because our soul lacks boldness

Baudelaire

Contents

Cover

Title Page FRANKIE BOYLE WORK! CONSUME! DIE!

Copyright

Dedication Dedication Dedication Epigraph Introduction Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 What Next? Acknowledgements About the Author Credits Back Ad About the Publisher If rape, poison, dagger and arson Have not as yet adorned with their pleasing artistry the banal canvas of our piteous destinies It is, alas, because our soul lacks boldness Baudelaire

Epigraph Epigraph His stomach turns a somersault with the drop of the elevator. He steps out into the crowded marble hall. For a moment not knowing which way to go, he stands back against the wall with his hands in his pockets, watching people elbow their way through the perpetually revolving doors; softcheeked girls chewing gum, hatchetfaced girls with bangs, creamfaced boys his own age, young toughs with their hats on one side, sweatyfaced messengers, crisscross glances, sauntering hips, red jowls masticating cigars, sallow concave faces, fat bodies of young men and women, paunched bodies of elderly men, all elbowing, shoving, shuffling, fed in two endless tapes through the revolving doors out into Broadway, in off Broadway. Jimmy fed in a tape in and out the revolving doors, noon and night and morning, the revolving doors grinding out his years like sausage meat. All of a sudden his muscles stiffen. Uncle Jeff and his office can go plumb to hell. The words are so loud inside him he glances to one side and the other to see if anyone heard him say them. They can all go plumb to hell. John Dos Passos, Manhattan Transfer

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

What Next?

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Credits

Back Ad

About the Publisher

Epigraph Epigraph Epigraph His stomach turns a somersault with the drop of the elevator. He steps out into the crowded marble hall. For a moment not knowing which way to go, he stands back against the wall with his hands in his pockets, watching people elbow their way through the perpetually revolving doors; softcheeked girls chewing gum, hatchetfaced girls with bangs, creamfaced boys his own age, young toughs with their hats on one side, sweatyfaced messengers, crisscross glances, sauntering hips, red jowls masticating cigars, sallow concave faces, fat bodies of young men and women, paunched bodies of elderly men, all elbowing, shoving, shuffling, fed in two endless tapes through the revolving doors out into Broadway, in off Broadway. Jimmy fed in a tape in and out the revolving doors, noon and night and morning, the revolving doors grinding out his years like sausage meat. All of a sudden his muscles stiffen. Uncle Jeff and his office can go plumb to hell. The words are so loud inside him he glances to one side and the other to see if anyone heard him say them. They can all go plumb to hell. John Dos Passos, Manhattan Transfer Introduction Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 What Next? Acknowledgements About the Author Credits Back Ad About the Publisher

His stomach turns a somersault with the drop of the elevator. He steps out into the crowded marble hall. For a moment not knowing which way to go, he stands back against the wall with his hands in his pockets, watching people elbow their way through the perpetually revolving doors; softcheeked girls chewing gum, hatchetfaced girls with bangs, creamfaced boys his own age, young toughs with their hats on one side, sweatyfaced messengers, crisscross glances, sauntering hips, red jowls masticating cigars, sallow concave faces, fat bodies of young men and women, paunched bodies of elderly men, all elbowing, shoving, shuffling, fed in two endless tapes through the revolving doors out into Broadway, in off Broadway. Jimmy fed in a tape in and out the revolving doors, noon and night and morning, the revolving doors grinding out his years like sausage meat. All of a sudden his muscles stiffen. Uncle Jeff and his office can go plumb to hell. The words are so loud inside him he glances to one side and the other to see if anyone heard him say them. They can all go plumb to hell.