Edited by William Justin Thirsk-Gaskill, Thursday, 21 Jul 2011, 14:54
“Hello. Welcome to Part 2 of this audio CD which goes with Open University course A17B Start Talking Bollocks. My name is Cuthbert Dry-Monotone, and I am here with well-known Scottish novelist, Callum MacIrnbru. His gritty and realistic books explore themes such as conflict, loss, bereavement, dislocation, and dental decay. We are here to talk about how he creates an atmosphere which is conducive to creativity and productive writing.”
[Sound of footsteps on a gravel path.]
“Where are we going now?”
“To my shed.”
[Sound of a door creaking and rain on a wooden roof.]
“Aha. Now here we have quite an array of objects. What have we got? We have a rusty bicycle frame; a Wellington boot which seems to have a hole in it; a number of child’s dolls, each with a limb or head missing; a zinc bath; a hurricane lamp; a leather suitcase with the handle broken off; a twin-tub washing machine; an old electric fan; a large box full of empty jam jars; a wooden tennis racket; a tea-chest containing various - how shall I put it? - 'top-shelf' magazines, and assorted buckets, plant pots and watering-cans.”
“Indeed.”
“And how would you characterise this collection?”
“It’s shit.”
[Uncertainly.] “Aah. And how do you use it in your preparation for writing?”
“I don’t. I’d take it all to the dump if I could be arsed.”
"Er...And the noise of the rain drumming on the roof...What effect do you find that rhythmical sound has on your psyche?"
"It really makes me want to do a wee-wee."
“Cut!” [Muttering.] “Ian Rankin was never like this.”
Audio CD Part 2*
“Hello. Welcome to Part 2 of this audio CD which goes with Open University course A17B Start Talking Bollocks. My name is Cuthbert Dry-Monotone, and I am here with well-known Scottish novelist, Callum MacIrnbru. His gritty and realistic books explore themes such as conflict, loss, bereavement, dislocation, and dental decay. We are here to talk about how he creates an atmosphere which is conducive to creativity and productive writing.”
[Sound of footsteps on a gravel path.]
“Where are we going now?”
“To my shed.”
[Sound of a door creaking and rain on a wooden roof.]
“Aha. Now here we have quite an array of objects. What have we got? We have a rusty bicycle frame; a Wellington boot which seems to have a hole in it; a number of child’s dolls, each with a limb or head missing; a zinc bath; a hurricane lamp; a leather suitcase with the handle broken off; a twin-tub washing machine; an old electric fan; a large box full of empty jam jars; a wooden tennis racket; a tea-chest containing various - how shall I put it? - 'top-shelf' magazines, and assorted buckets, plant pots and watering-cans.”
“Indeed.”
“And how would you characterise this collection?”
“It’s shit.”
[Uncertainly.] “Aah. And how do you use it in your preparation for writing?”
“I don’t. I’d take it all to the dump if I could be arsed.”
"Er...And the noise of the rain drumming on the roof...What effect do you find that rhythmical sound has on your psyche?"
"It really makes me want to do a wee-wee."
“Cut!” [Muttering.] “Ian Rankin was never like this.”
*None of this is true, either.