"OK Gloria, this is an international spy novel so try and look suspenseful. And provocative. And continental. Maybe with a hint of frisson. Just keep it classy."
"OK Deborah, this is a really tense scene in the novel so try and look imperiled. And intriguing. And beguiling. Maybe with a hint of chagrin. Now light me."
"OK Agatha, you're an international hitwoman so try and look dangerous. And possibly Spanish. And equestrian. Give me Spanish horses in your eyes. Be a danger jockey, but a bit teasing. Maybe undo a button."
"OK Penelope we're going for medieval on this one, but sexy. Sexy medieval. Champagne and Charlemagne. The Wife of Bath on a hen night. Give me Joan of Arc, but with a kinky whip."
"OK Amanda, I want stern but sexy. And petrochemical. Sexy inorganic petrochemical. And cleavage. Massive pipelines and big plungers, but classy."
"OK Jill, think Cairo. Pyramids. Sexy pyramids. Amenhotep in expensive perfume. Cleopatra on a promise. Be a Sphinx in Spanx. Maybe with some pouting."
"OK Pamela, I want seduction. And intrigue. And the deep sea fishing industry. Think cod, but sexy. Sexy, intriguing cod. Literally give me fishnets. But with cleavage."
"OK Fiona, this one's in Berlin. I want sexy, but Teutonic. Classy. Think Europe. A braless Brandenburg Gate of beguiling. Menace that map."
"OK Daphne I want British, but sexy. Sophisticated. Maybe with cleavage. And mystery. Mysterious cleavage. Mary Poppins in a string bikini. With a gun. Sexy fish and chips. But classy."
"OK Emily, you're a cobra. A sexy, dangerous cobra. On a plane. You're a snake on a plane. With long legs. Maybe a pout. Give me pouty snakey danger. Hiss a little if it helps."
"Look Claudia, we don't have any budget. Just do your best. Sexy, but with documents. Put your hood up if you're cold. And scene..."
• • •
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Given the current heatwave, I feel obliged to ask my favourite question: is it time to bring back the leisure suit?
Let's find out...
Now we all know what a man's lounge suit is, but if we're honest it can be a bit... stuffy. Formal. Businesslike. Not what you'd wear 'in da club' as the young folks say.
So for many years tailors have been experimenting with less formal, but still upmarket gents attire. The sort of garb you could wear for both a high level business meeting AND for listening to the Moody Blues in an espresso bar. Something versatile.
Today in pulp I look back at the publishing phenomenon of gamebooks: novels in which YOU are the hero!
A pencil and dice may be required for this thread...
Gamebooks are a simple but addictive concept: you control the narrative. At the end of each section of the story you are offered a choice of outcomes, and based on that you turn to the page indicated to see what happens next.
Gamebook plots are in fact complicated decision tree maps: one or more branches end in success, but many more end in failure! It's down to you to decide which path to tread.
He was the terror of London; a demonic figure with glowing eyes and fiery breath who could leap ten feet high. The penny dreadfuls of the time wrote up his exploits in lurid terms. But who was he really?
Today I look at one of the earliest pulp legends: Spring-Heeled Jack!
London has always attracted ghosts, and in the 19th Century they increasingly left their haunted houses and graveyards and began to wader the capital's streets.
But one apparition caught the Victorian public attention more than most...
In October 1837 a 'leaping character' with a look of the Devil began to prey on Londoners. Often he would leap high into the air and land in front of a carriage, causing it to crash. It would then flee with a high-pitched laugh.