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Author: Phil Hipside
Target: £1000

C’mon people, this is a work of fiction. If you need more help in discerning fiction from reality, I recommend seeing a good therapist


I used to go running over the hill outside our house. It was popular with a certain lady from the local village who regularly walked her small dog there and I was regularly chased by the yappy little bastard. The dog that is, not the lady - you’re thinking of feminists.

This frequent occurrence scared the b'Jesus out of me and injected a lot of adrenaline and oxygen into my system that somehow sparked a creative gene and inspired me to write. I’d come home and write pages of material before I’d even peeled off my sweaty lycra. As a cure for writers’ block I can highly recommend it.

So, I joined a writing course at the local university. I wrote a lot of insightful shit based on my life experience, as you’re encouraged to do, that no-one was remotely interested in. Then one day I presented a parody on liberal culture and political correctness based on a demoralising public sector job I once had, teaching at a local college. It has to be said, ‘The Political Correcting of Carl Waxman’, wasn't met with universal approval as it somewhat impinged on the University's ‘safe space’ policy.

I’d stumbled upon my niche.

I expanded this politically incorrect short story into the satirical novel that it is today. However, despite representation from a top agent ‘The Political Correcting of Carl Waxman’ was universally rejected by every UK publisher on the basis of being - well, politically incorrect.

A lady with a small dog once inspired the politically incorrect Checkhov. Here’s hoping some of the cheeky old Cossack ’s literary success will rub off.

Risks and challenges

The way Voltaire used to say it: To learn who rules over you, simply find out who you’re not allowed to criticise. And Doris Lessing more recently observed: What we are seeing once again is a self appointed group of vigilantes imposing their views on others.

Satire, that quintessentially British weapon of choice for challenging the political and cultural elite is being silenced and - like the old codger down my local pub - I not only blame social media, I blame UK mainstream media and most of all, publishers.

The way I see it: In Hong Kong the Chinese authorities abduct booksellers for selling books that challenge the political and cultural elite. In the West we’ve got publishers to ensure challenging books won’t ever get seen on the shelves.

The early drafts of this book were turned down because they were too politically incorrect. One publisher even admitted the reason they wouldn't publish was because the protagonist (a FICTIONAL character) was too ‘anti-feminist’. Note, not ‘anti-women’, but ‘ANTI-FEMINIST’.

We’re in an era of linguistic fascism, where being offended is to be right, where the biggest bullies are the biggest victims and where political correctness doesn't change us, it just shuts us up. Books that challenge liberal ideals aren't being banned, they’re just not getting published or even seen.

Please help change that culture of censorship by supporting this book and I guarantee once you start reading, you‘ll be laughing out loud for all the wrong reasons.


The Political Correcting of Carl Waxman

Masters of the universe don’t usually wash up in low paid, public sector jobs, but that’s exactly what happened to Carl Waxman following the banking crisis.

If his pay grade and lack of champagne lunches weren’t insult enough, he now has to attend lectures on equality and diversity and park his beloved BMW at the far end of the college car park without the aid of a valet. Worse still, he has to put up with memos from his radical feminist boss, reminding him to use comic sans and terms such as ‘learners’ instead of ‘students’.

Carl perseveres with his attempts to restart his former lucrative career by drawing on a network of colleagues from the financial sector; colleagues from whom he is determined to hide his current predicament.

‘If word ever gets out I’ve gone native; gone public sector, I’d never get a proper job again.’

However, a particularly gruesome encounter with his sadomasochistic colleague, ‘Svetlana’ at a Gatwick hotel, leaves him with severe testicular trauma. As a result, he is forced to attend compulsory appointments with a psychotherapist who misdiagnosis him with Gender Dysphoria and is determined to support him through his ‘difficult journey‘ to become a woman. Another ill conceived networking opportunity results in him being blackmailed into marriage.

But those are only the start of his problems. On the verge of losing his freedom, his job, his car, his home, his testicles and quite possible his life to Islamic extremists following a misunderstanding at the Brighton SlutWalk, Carl is thrown a lifeline by the college’s gay, equality and diversity officer. But there is no such thing as a free lunch.

When testicles get in the way of ambition in an impossible politically correct world, something has to give.