So, after numerous attempts, rewrites, tears and at least one near-fatal nite spent on the roof of the house in a howling South-easterly gale I have finally completed and submitted my entry for this year’s Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest.

Herewith the opening sentence of the soon to be rejected suburban-noir novel ‘Memoirs of a Slut: The Valley Years’.

She never put out on the first date of the day, but he knew that this might change when he saw her saunter into the hotel lounge wearing those oh-baby-oh diamante pumps he had heard so much about.

All that remains now is to await the sweet sound of the postman carrying a very large parcel.