Several readers of Accidental Hitman have been in touch and asked “when’s your new fucking book out, Wilson?” They were right to be impatient, it’s taken me bloody ages. The reason for the delay was that I wasted a year on a book that turned out to be total shit, and I didn’t realise until I was on the last chapter.
But that’s all in the past. My new novel is currently being proof-read, will be out in time for Easter and it’s not shit. At least I don’t think so.
Thank you, as always, to Paul Shiers for the cover art. If you need an illustrator or some ‘proper’ art then he’s your man.
The book’s called Christ, Man! and if you want a pithy description of what it’s about, then think Goodfellas meets the Gospels.
Here’s a taster…
What Would Jesus Do?
“Are you fucking with me? You’d better not be fucking with me. You know who I am? Thought so. I’m the man who can’t be stopped. Herod thought he could stop me. D’ya know what he got when he tried? A pile of dead kids, that’s what. He didn’t get me though. Wanna know why? Connections. Nobody’s hooked up quite like me. What’s that? You’re not fucking with me? Well we might just be okay then. Here, toke on this.”
Some people ask, what would Jesus do? Well this is what he would do. This is what he does. It’s what he does best. He just owns it . Nobody in Judea can touch him and he knows it.
Jesus spreads his arms and makes it clear that although he’s speaking to the new guy, this Matthew, he’s really talking to everyone. “I run a tight ship here, tighter than fucking Noah’s. You want to come on board? You’re welcome on board, but only if you’re not fucking with me.”
The new guy’s eyes dart about like they’re looking for the right word, but they fail and he says nothing.
“I think we can be clear he’s not fucking with you.”
The statement slams off the rocks and hangs amongst the dust in the evening air. Everybody looks to the west, to the speaker. It’s Simon, standing slightly away from the rest of us. He’s silhouetted against the low sun so everyone has to squint. Except Jesus. Jesus doesn’t squint. “Thought you’d have an opinion.”
Simon stares straight back. “Opinions are like asses, everyone’s got one.”
The two of them face off in the still, warm evening.
Jesus leans over, pulls hard on the bong and stands up, inhaling through his nose and holding the belly full of smoke down. His face, lit by the sun, is completely impassive. He stares his man down. The silence is thick, overpowering. Everybody’s waiting for what’s going to happen next. The only sound is the clicking of the cicadas.
Jesus erupts, an explosion of smoke and laughter. This sets Simon off and he too doubles up in hysterics. He runs at Jesus and leaps in the air. The bong’s knocked flying and everyone has to get out of the way because Jesus is gripping Simon around the waist and spinning him round like a crazy bastard, both of them howling in hysterics. Matthew gets hit by Simon’s flailing leg and we all end up on the floor, Matthew because he’s been knocked down and the rest of us because we’ve fallen down from all the laughing.
This is good shit.