Welcome to my stop, for today, on Douglas Board’s three book blog blitz with Rachel’s Random Resources!
I have an extract from The Rats to share with you today as well as info for all three books.
Watch this space for an extract from Time Of Lies tomorrow!
The Rats: A White House Satire
Ros March, disabled lesbian mum and former Royal Marine, has just moved to Turnberry on Scotland’s west coast. Her cottage overlooks one of the world’s most famous golf courses – Trump Turnberry – as well as the scenic bird sanctuary Ailsa Craig. But idylls deceive. In truth Ailsa was once overrun by rats, who were exterminated at the end of the twentieth century, and Ros’s landlord turns out to be a delusional Islamophobic misogynist who calls himself ‘Potus Two’. When Potus Two announces that both he and Ros will have the chance to meet the President on Turnberry’s hallowed grounds, Ros hatches a plan. Even a slim chance to do something about one of the biggest rats in the world is not something she will pass by.
“THE RATS: A WHITE HOUSE SATIRE” by Douglas Board
Ros March, a disabled veteran, moves to Scotland for the summer, leaving behind her adopted daughter Mbali. She’s chosen Turnberry, which hasn’t much to offer except for Donald Trump’s golf course. Like Jack Reacher, Ros has no time for golf – but she does have time for justice.
Ros’s landlord is a local weirdo who calls himself ‘POTUS Two’. ‘POTUS’ stands for President of the United States, while all this character is president of is a local club called the Turnberry Society. He’s deluded, abuses women and staff, and seems to imagine that he’s living in the White House – but then you could say all of that about Donald Trump.
A few minutes south of Turnberry on the A77 or thirty minutes’ hike along the coast, POTUS Two awakens in the Lincoln bedroom, protected from the sun by thick drapes. The Victorian canopied bed is one of the house’s few authentic pieces. Most of the rest of the furniture is French junk put together with the chronological consistency of Dr Who. This will take time to fix, but POTUS Two has time. Everyone assumes he’ll be gone in eight years max, maybe two years or less, but since when has ‘everyone’ been right about anything?
The self-appointed President of the Turnberry Society (POTUS Two for short) clicks the remote and streams Fox News. It was from this exact bed that he had leapt up to flick the switch during Fox and Friends, that time when Steve Doocy had said to flick the lights ‘if you’re watching.’ The lights on screen had moved in pretty good synch, allowing for the satellite delay.
The breakfast show streams story after story: lines a mile long for radiation protection suits in Seoul, trouble over a march in the Midwest and (yawn) the fake banking crisis. POTUS Two will tweet something over a bacon sandwich.
Thoughts about previous occupants of the bed do not detain him, because experts ensured a thorough fumigation. POTUS Two doesn’t know what a black man, barely American, got up to in the White House ‒ he doesn’t need to, there are websites for that ‒ but a bloodstain confronts him as he swings out from beneath the sheets. He opens the bedroom door with a jerk and bellows, ‘Kellyann!’ before padding downstairs in POTUS-logoed pyjamas. Of Kellyann there is no sign, so he slips out onto the north patio to soak up the view.
It’s eighteen minutes past eleven in Turnberry; eighteen minutes past six in the morning in Washington DC. The north patio will become a portico as soon as the President of the Turnberry Society crowns it with columns and something portentous for them to hold. The day is cloudless, the fresh morning air served just as POTUS Two likes it, with the uplifting tang of White Whisper paint. The house had to be coated from top to bottom three times before he could name it ‘the White House.’ POTUS Two liked the chemical tang so much ‒ he thinks of it as the smell of power ‒ that the giant pole bearing the ‘Make America Great Again’ flag is repainted every six weeks. Directly in front of the flagpole is the twelve-foot totem of Trump ‒ POTUS One ‒ with his jaw jutting and teeth gleaming, an icon surveying his iconic resort across the bay.
POTUS Two is touching seventy and barrel-chested with small hands. He resembles an early-retired head of accounts more than a president. Big ears and black butterfly-wing glasses emphasize the definition that his forehead and eyes lack. However, for everything POTUS Two misses in presence, his imagination more than compensates. Another difference from the man on the totem is POTUS Two needs his coffee. POTUS One’s regime of no coffee, no alcohol and no cigarettes has been done before. POTUS Two recalls that it didn’t Make Germany Great that time either.
Turning to survey the West Wing ‒ the West Cottage to be exact, fifty yards away ‒ POTUS Two spots Ros moving around the bay-fronted living room. The room has just been redecorated in creamy gray damask and boasts a bust of Churchill. ‘The Oval Office,’ POTUS Two had explained when showing Ros around. ‘Uh-huh,’ she had said. He grins, because Ros won’t be ‘uh-huh-ing’ when she hears the news he’s got for her today.
Kellyann arrives with his two-cup Pyrex pot. POTUS Two will send her back if the coffee’s not scalding. She attempts a discreet cough but fails. The nineteen-year-old has worked at the White House for two months. In that time her thickly made-up face has sagged, like a washing-line under wet carpets.
‘Kellyann,’ roars POTUS Two, and the housekeeper tenses. He waves a podgy finger and points upstairs. ‘On the sheets. In the bedroom. A bloodstain. A new one.’
Promotional Video – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uq07R072IhU
Why is so much of the world managed by arseholes? When workaholic business school hot shot Ben Stillman is fired, he has the chance to find out. Not a guy to sit still, Ben jumps head first into turning his former business school into a world-class madrassa of capitalism.
Ben has ten days to rescue the launch of its spectacular glass tower, and his own career – ten days during which he will have to confront terrorist plots, undercover police, the extravagant demands of the super-rich, and the only woman who can save him from this madness.
A satirical thriller, a love story, and a wry look at modern management ideology all rolled into one – MBA is a piercing yet hopeful enquiry into the meaning of success.
30% off with discount code BLOGTOURMBA http://eye-books.com/books/mba
Promotional Video – https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=4&v=hUOs5YqqkBg
Time of Lies
In 2020 the United Kingdom elects its own Donald Trump.
Bob Grant, former football hooligan, now the charismatic leader of the Britain’s Great party, has swept to power on a populist tide. With his itchy finger hovering over the nuclear trigger, Bob presides over a brave new Britain where armed drones fill the skies, ex-bankers and foreigners are vilified, and the Millwall football chant ‘No one likes us, we don’t care’ has become an unofficial national anthem.
Meanwhile, Bob’s under-achieving, Guardian-reading brother Zack gets a tap on the shoulder from a shady Whitehall mandarin. A daring plot is afoot to defy the will of the people and unseat the increasingly unstable PM. Can Zack stop his brother before he launches a nuclear strike on Belgium? And just what is ACERBIC, Britain’s most closely-guarded military secret?
A darkly comic political thriller, Time of Lies is also a terrifyingly believable portrait of an alternative Britain. It couldn’t happen here… could it?
30% off with discount code BLOGTOURLIES http://eye-books.com/books/time-of-lies
Author Bio –
Douglas Board is the author of the campus satire MBA (Lightning Books, 2015), which asked why so much of the business world is Managed By Arseholes. Time of Lies, his second novel, is a timely exploration of the collapse of democracy.
Born in Hong Kong, he has degrees from Cambridge and Harvard and worked for the UK Treasury and then as a headhunter. He has also had a distinguished career in public life, serving as treasurer of the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fund and chairing the British Refugee Council.
As well as writing fiction, he is the author of two applied research books on leadership, which was the subject of his doctorate. He is currently a senior visiting fellow at the Cass Business School in London. He and his wife Tricia Sibbons live in London and Johannesburg.
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