From The Slush Pile Of Wonderblast Publishing

Dear Wonderblast Publishing,


My name is Nigel Nebbish, I am a writer from London currently seeking a home for my 80,000 word thriller novel: The Girl Who Saw Velvet Summers.

It’s an action-packed crime thriller about an ace lawyer, Michael Mebble, and his attempts to uncover corruption in his own firm. Just as he is about to get close, he is disbarred and dismissed from the firm and is forced to team up with a lawyer from an opposing firm to seek justice. The twist? The opposing lawyer is his ex-wife.

I am perfectly suited to write this book because I was a lawyer in London for over three decades before I left my firm under my own volition. I know the ins and outs of lawyering and am great fun at parties. I wanted to be a writer ever since I saw a John Grisham novel in an airport bookshop last week.

I’ve attached a sample of the novel and look forward to hearing back from you.


Nigel Nebbish Esq


Attachments: TGWSVS_Sample


It was two o’clock in the afternoon and Michael Mebble was strolling handsomely into his law office in the law district of London. He was a tall, proud, handsome man with a strong jaw, steely blue eyes, and a handsome face. He was fifty-two years old but he could’ve passed for twenty because of how handsome he was. He was one hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle and handsomeness.


Becky, Michael’s twenty-five year old big titted assistant swooned as her handsome boss entered the office. She had been in love with him ever since she’d started working at Lawyers Incorporated.

“Hello, Michael,” she asked, boobs straining against the tight fabric of her low-cut blouse. “You are looking handsome today.”

“I know,” Michael said with a wink.

Becky almost fainted — he’d noticed her! As soon as she caught her breath she was going to go onto her mobile telephone and tweet about how her handsome boss was interested her, even though she wore glasses.

Michael got into his office and noticed that the lazy cleaner hadn’t bothered to clean up the coffee mug he’d left on his desk yesterday. He wondered if he should dock their pay while he checked his e-mails.

Like any busy law office, Lawyers Incorporated got as many as two e-mails a day. Today, because he was so busy, Michael had three. He couldn’t cope with such a heavy workload, so he forwarded them all to Ozzy as a joke. Ozzy was a tax lawyer who knew everything ever written about taxes because he was such an autistic nerd. But unfortunately, because he was autistic, Ozzy couldn’t cope with social situations.

Ozzy called Michael up a few minutes later. “I’m too autistic to cope with the e-mails you have sent me on my computer.” He bleeped and blooped. “I find it most distressing.”

“Oh Ozzy, you just don’t understand social situations like us humans.”

“Affirmative,” Ozzy said. “But it will take me all day to process these three e-mails that you have sent me.”

“Better get on with it then, hadn’t you?”

“You are very compassionate, master,” Ozzy computered.

Just then Becky jiggled into Michael’s office, rolling her eyes and jiggling her boobs. “Douglas is here to see you.”

“Mmmm, you look dead sexy today,” Michael said.

Becky blushed, she had never met a man as charming and sensitive. He was a brooding genius and worth ten times any man her own age. “Thank you.”

“Send him in,” Michael said.

Becky bounced out of the room. Moments later, Douglas Blubberguts filled Michael’s doorway with his bulk.

“Hello, Douglas,” Michael said, cringing at the sight of his cruel boss. Douglas was a fat, red-faced piece of shit. The buttons on his shirt strained against his enormous belly, which dangled below his belt. Michael could smell his terrible body odour from here.  He was just disgusting.



“If it isn’t Michael Mebble,” Douglas said. He made it to Michael’s desk with only four snack breaks, his ham face shiny with sweat. “I hear you’ve been looking into corruption at my law firm.”

“I hear you’ve been looking for your dick for years you sweaty pile of congealed chicken grease.”

“That’s enough perfectly acceptable workplace banter from you, Mebble!” Douglas said, jowls flapping like sacks of gravy dripping. “If you continue to investigate my firm for corruption, I’ll have you fired.”

“Firing me would be just like the bare minimum of exercise — impossible for someone like you.”

“Is that so?” Douglas said, gravy dribbling down his chins. “Well I’ve already started a rumour that you’ve been bullying Ozzy and I’m filing a fake sexual harassment claim against you saying that you groped Becky in the copy room.”

Michael gasped. “But I have completely appropriate and professional relationships with those two esteemed colleagues!”

Douglas giggled fatly. “I know! That’s what makes this whole situation so delicious! You’ll never expose the corruption at this law firm now.”

Nobody had ever been treated this unfairly before in all of human history. Michael hadn’t felt this bad since his divorce.

“Not so charming and handsome now are you, Mebble?” Douglas belched.

“Curse you Douglas Blubberguts!” Michael said, shaking his fists. “Like all fat people, you are a lazy, sloppy, cheat with terrible hygiene!”

“And you’ll never prove it!” Douglas laughed as he waddled out of the room, smearing bacon grease on Michael’s carpet with every step.


If Michael didn’t have a billion pounds in his bank account then this might have been distressing to him personally, but he was as rich as he was handsome.
Unfortunately, this would seriously derail his valiant quest to expose corruption in Lawyers Incorporated.


There was only one thing he could do.

He dialed her number and was harangued by the high-pitched voice of her assistant “Lawyers Enterprises, how may I help you?”

Michael didn’t have time to deal with this bureaucratic red tape. “Get me my ex-wife at once.”

“There’s no need to be so rude, Mr. Mebble.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“I recognised the handsomeness in your voice. You sound just like a man in his twenties.”

“Everybody says so. Now I demand to speak to my ex-wife.” Michael congratulated himself for his patience and compassion. He still had the common touch. Truly nobody was as good at dealing with peasants as he.

Unfortunately, he still had to deal with the hold music for almost an entire minute before his ex-wife’s husky voice came on the line. “Hello Michael. My quivering loins ache for your touch.”


“Of course they do,” Michael said. “But I need your help.”

“I’d do anything for you, you sexy man.”

“I know you are a lawyer from an opposing law firm, but you are the only person I can trust to help me expose the corruption in my very own law firm.”

“This is a plot ripped straight from the headlines, my love!”


“Not to mention relatable to anyone who would happen to read it,” Michael said. “Now, what did you say about your loins?”
Dear Nigel,

Thank you for your submission: The Girl Who Saw Velvet Summers.

The fact that you were born with working fingers is proof god has abandoned us. After reading your piece, several of our employees have started burning books at random just in case any of them inspired you. All of our current authors, as well as several librarians, describe this turn of events as ‘fair.’

May you know hell in your lifetime,
Wonderblast Publishing
P.S: Are you single? You sound handsome

— Matt Holland 26/09/18

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