Wednesday, June 25, 2008

The Book Of Surfing

People send me products in the post from time to time. This is really very kind of them. They are, of course, hoping I will say sweet things about their book, DVD, T-shirt, perfume or JCB. I believe the technical term for this is "endorsement". Or maybe it's "viral marketing". However you want to analyse this curious symbiosis, I like to think I remain objective about the stuff that comes my way. So I'm always happy to plug Snugg because their wetsuits are simply great and equally content to snigger at daft designs like Realwiings.

However, I must confess that a parcel in the post has me pleasure pumping endorphins in the limbic brain that must hark back to hunter-gatherer ancestry. I was, and remain, an inveterate scrounger. As a child, I would make covert raids to scavenge through the neighbours' bins - particularly those belonging to families with similarly aged children. Many's a time I'd come home with Hoovered victims - dusty bricks of LEGO or perhaps a headless Action Man that had been subjected to some hybrid Celtic-voodoo ritual. Therapy didn't help, by the way. Show me a skip and I have to be restrained from climbing in. Beachcombing I consider a vocation.

Anyway, I got an email from someone suggesting that my readers might be interested in a book on surf culture. From the peoploids behind the conspiratorially titled "The September Project" and Stranger Magazine (always a good read but recently a stranger from the shop shelves), comes "The Book Of Surfing".

From the pics they sent it looks like a good read but the skinflints want me to blurb about it and they haven't sent me a copy to review! Don't they know that there's no such thing as a free lunch? I was hoping they could call it the "Big Book Of Surfing" and there'd be pop up pop out surfboards for me to colour in. Or a "spot the difference" page with duplicate shots of trendy board shorts subtly altered with prizes for finding all the tweaks and missing floral prints. Perhaps it's all in there, but I may never know. PS: No-one has sent me a JCB - yet - but as I'm currently living on a building site, one would come in handy.


Michael F said...

No way dudeski! I'll get the publiski to wang one of dem booties out to you quickspot. Shaka brah!

Beach Bum said...

See? There is a God ...

Playground Called Earth. said...

hello. we missed you Mr.