Public letter to Eoin Colfer

Also published on Douglas Adams Continuum

Dear sir

It is very likely you do know me well, you have written the official H2G2-sixth-volume-version and I am the one who claims to have written the best ever, so this slight contradiction should have caught your attention somehow, some when, and if not, perhaps then the, erm, heavy insulting I did publicly, to your expense.

It is likely too you have read through my version before you made up your mind of how to write your one, because it was in the hands of Mr. „Big Vic“ Ed Victor, who happened to be both responsible of who gets to write the official version and in complete dislike of my person, which then obviously made his decision to crush this said version of mine surely not too much a tough one. (Moreover, you might have seen that in order to avoid a lawsuit for plagiarism you were virtually forced to leave out all the coercive and brilliant ideas that would make a sixth volume work, for they have all been used by me before. (Which probably doesn´t really help for a good relationship between us in the future, which is where I am aiming at, actually, but, still.)

Well, yeah, you, sir, completely ruined my life, sucked up all the glory and money there was to get and left me impoverished and embittered (which ultimately led to six years of additional misery, for I am not going too much out on a limb, had I been the one who had been authorised, it is very much likely the girl I loved back then would not have spat in my face at that time and later on enjoyed shoving bamboo shoots up the nail-bed of my eternally wounded soul, instead, she would have shared happily chatter and glory with me, like you are probably doing with some rather nice and pretty chica now, I am pretty sure about and hopefully not too impertinent in pointing it out).

But! You have ruined my life, kind sir, but it certainly speaks for you not on purpose and there is still a considerable chance for me to get some benefit out of this if I just keep on nagging everybody about it (which my carefully laid out plan is, with this little baby hick-up knack that at this moment I have annoyed so many people, that they all hate me, but, over years, when so many people hate you, they still care about you in a way and later on this hate will surely diminish and ultimately be replaced by identification and still later on by countable success in terms of real money paid for my so far utterly fruitless art, (which still makes it more easy to win a girls heart, than just tender looks, oh don´t we all know!))

So, like I said, you´ve ruined my life, but there is still hope and I have repaid that with a fair amount of insult and that makes us even. Well, there were some really low blows on my part, which were understandable but yet surely unnecessary, my insulting should have been more to the point, a more accurate and precise insulting, like, you know, modern surgical warfare and not just pouring down molten tar (and excrement) down the walls of your castle on the heads of your enemies like in medieval times. So for that I do apologise.

But, like I said, we are even now and, now, let us be friends. Well, yes, you heard right. I mean, are we not connected souls? You are a member of the English-speaking cultural imperialists, I translate into the language of those who finance the whole show. We are both writers, you are shoveling millions, I am shoveling small change, you have breakfast with the top notch of Penguin Books and dine with an assortment of well known literature critics, I go to McDonald´s on a coffee break and have the most fascinating talk with drunk passengers, so why not, we´re a fine match, aren´t we?

So, I am about to embark for a journey for peace and reconciliation, let´s start this with you, sir, I am holding out my hand, sir, put some money in it, oops, I mean, shake it.

Let´s show the world that wounds can heal! I mean what´s decades of hate and bloody wars between Muslims and Christians, between East and West, between armies of nations at war with each other for decades, the world at the brink of atomic disaster – compared to the mess which is between us, but still, let´s show the world that if even we two could settle for peace between us, if even we two could shake hands and be friends, from now on then world peace is just a piece of fairy cake inside a machine to extrapolate the universe from.

Is it not?

Best wishes, Jochen Lembke

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About Jochen Lembke

Europe's cab-driving writer
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