Lanzarote by Michel Houellebecq

(Heinemann, £9.99)
Condensed in the style of the original
Lanzarote by Michel Houellebecq

Midway through December 1999, I realised New Year was going to be disastrous - again.

"How about southern Morocco?" said the travel agent. I knew Morocco a lot better than this bitch.

"I don't like Arab countries," I interrupted, before thinking back to the wetness of the Lebanese woman I'd met at a swingers' club.

"I mean," I continued, "I don't like Muslim countries."

"How about Senegal?"

It was tempting. The white man is still king there and you don't have to pay for sex.

"I'm not up for sex."

"How about Lanzarote?"

Lanzarote is almost totally devoid of interest, having been discovered by a few Norwegians back in the 50s. You don't see them any more as they die when the sun comes out. The ordinary Frenchman runs the risk of boredom here - not something that would concern the limited minds of the Brits and the Krauts.

On the minibus trip, I noticed a dull moustachioed Belgian and a pair of German dykes. I like women licking each other. The dykes were called Pam and Barbara and I watched them play in the waves. Barbara's breasts were the most pert: they were probably silicon.

"Nice tits," I said, playing with myself.


I watched TV in the hotel. The Yanks were taking over the world again. Being governed by fucking idiots is utterly disagreeable.

I didn't see Rudi the next day. He had gone to Fuerteventura.

"It was shit," he said later, as we passed several members of the Azraelian sect.

"By the way, I only live in Belgium," he said. "I was born in Luxembourg." A country of tax evaders.

The next day we went to the beach with the dykes. Rudi disappeared, while I serviced the two women.

"You lick almost as well as a woman," said Pam. "Maybe you could impregnate Barbara."

"I'm French," I replied. "I can do anything."

Rudi was gone when we got back and I found this letter.

"I wasn't shocked by you and the dykes. My wife and I had the odd orgy until she returned to the monstrous hordes of Islam. It's just I hate being a cop and I hate living in Belgium. I'm going to join the Azraelians."

Back home I never saw the dykes again, but I followed the Azraelians in the papers - especially when the child abuse scandal broke in Belgium. Rudi got arrested as all Belgians look like paedophiles.

Hmm, I thought, as I reached page 87. Have I been assez shocking? Perhaps non. Still, stopping here and charging a tenner should piss off almost everyone.

The digested read ... digested

Damn the Mozzers, Brits, Krauts, Yanks, Belgians and Dagos. Now, can I lick you?

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