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Not Without My Boathouse

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While being debriefed after the Iranian iPod hostage drama, Royal Naval Chav first-class Faye Turney tells the man from MI6 of a plot she overheard her female Revolutionary Guard guards talking about. The Iranians plan to build a weapons grade uranium processing plant under the cover of... a boathouse! One of her guards just so happens to be in the possession of these top-secret boathouse plans, and looks like she could possibly be turned. There is but one thing for it: our hero, Anthony "Dave" McStab, borrows the authentic Iranian grey nylon suit from Arthur "Beano" Batchelor (another survivor of the iPod hostage drama) as a disguise, and parachutes into Tehran. A complex, psychological spy drama ensues, involving the help of an aristocratic Iranian gentleman and a long walk out through the mountains. As the plot holes thicken, McStab enters into a romantic relationship with the female Guard, the pair successfully avoid the Revolutionary Guard patrols and checkpoints, and finally make it into friendly Turkey with the secret boathouse plans. Mission accomplished!


All was silent in the apartment as McStab and Binti pored over the boathouse plans on the kitchen table, a painting of Ayatollah Khomenei looking down on the pair with suitable Islamic disdain. "My God," whispered McStab, "these plans are complete in every detail -- including the colour of the paint job! And look, all those centrifuges tucked away in the basement! It's the perfect cover. If the Israelis or the Americans were to bomb it, the Iranians could claim that they had just bombed their equivalent of the Henley regatta! Genius! And to site it in the middle of the desert, too. It just increases the plausible deniability of it all. How did you get these plans?"

Before Binti could answer, McStab's ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps sneaking up the stairwell. It sounded like the Iranian knockoff HiTec(TM) Magnum(TM) boots that the security department of the Revolutionary Guard wear. Quick as a flash his underwater fighting knife was in his hand, as he pushed Binti back towards the open window leading to the fire escape. "Let's get out of here," she cried, "not without my boathouse" came McStab's terse reply, as he gathered up the plans and stuffed them quickly into the inside pocket of his genuine Iranian grey nylon suit. The owner of the suit, "Beano" Bachelor, had made him promise to "get one o'them Ayerainian buggers fer me if ye get 't chance!", but now didn't seem to be the time to get blood on his important and irreplaceable disguise. His sartorial elegance preserved, he hurried Binti out of the fire escape and down on to street level just as the Revolutionary Guards burst through the door.

They mingled with the crowd, McStab's disguise and facial hair working perfectly not to attract attention to them, and he was comforted by the feeling of the now re-sheathed underwater fighting knife strapped tight to his inside leg, nestling pleasingly against his prize-winning pudding. He was never without his Gerber(TM) underwater fighting knife, which the Boss had presented to him just before his first mission. "Never be without this knife," the Boss had said to him, "you never know who or what you might have to cut." He had only ever been out without the knife once, and it was a Saturday night in Wokingham that very nearly cost him his life.


It has been alleged that Clunge, wanting to profit from the recent Iranian election publicity, simply ripped off the plot of the 1991 film Not without My Daughter, depicting the real-life escape of American citizen Betty Mahmoody with her daughter from post revolutionary Iran, writing the whole work while on a 48-hour Super Screech binge. Clunge denies this, and has set libel lawyers Carter-Fuck on the periodical which made the allegation.

It must also be noted that this book contains possibly the most disgusting, filthy, and depraved oral sex scene yet to appear in a work of this genre. After weeks tabbing and riding yaks in the Iranian mountains without adequate water or ablutions, McStab and his female companion find themselves in a goat herder's cabin:

"She stared at him wistfully across the small cabin. McStab looked up from picking his fingernails with his trusted underwater fighting knife, and saw her slowly and gently part her legs. Despite the foetid smell of the animals sharing the cabin with them, the copious quantities of their bodily wastes ingrained into the floor, and the three layers of filthy clothing she was wearing on the lower half of her body, he could distinctly smell the bitter sweet, sickly odour of her unwashed, rancid, and by now rapidly moistening flange..."

Despite the obvious rush with which this 500 page opus was prepared, and the alleged plagiarism, it does appear that yet again Clunge has managed to surpass all other authors of his genre both in terms of creative storytelling and blatantly using the title of the book in the text more often than the film FaceOff.


Disgustingly imperialist -- The Grauniad

F*cking mega! -- GQ

I wish Clunge would come and write for us -- Gay Times

But is it really fiction? -- The New York Review of Books

Chock full of Clunge's trademark military sexual habits. FHM