Bookazine. Book-a-fucking-zine.
Tell me I’m reading that correct. Tell me I’m reading a made-up word. Tell me you can’t quite believe someone, no no, not just someone, not just anyone, but WH-fucking-Smiths has gone and done the impossible. Tell me they haven’t just created a word to sell a new product. Not only that, but the word they’ve gone with is so mental, so abstract, that I blacked out as I was walking past the magazine section today.
Seriously though. I know the whole world wants to know what Cheryl Cole’s ladybits look like, and everyone’s obsessing about her marriage problems with England’s Ashley Cole, but Bookazine? Book-a-fucking-zine? Come on now. This isn’t right, this just isn’t cricket. You can’t just create a new word because you need to sell something. You wouldn’t see Asda start selling ‘Condomince’ because people not only love Lasagne but they also love touching each other until stuff comes out. No Smiths, you don’t.
I’m still aghast after seeing it earlier today, and that was a good 5 hours ago now. Seriously though, BOOKAZINE! Why?! How can they do that? How? Who came up with that idea? I’d love to meet them. They’d probably suggest meeting in a Pouse* because that’s just how they are. I’d ask if they wanted anything to drink he’ll say “Oh yeah muddy(1), of course. I’ll have a John Artois(2). Shall we sit here? At this PLYBLE(3)?” (Were this conversation to be real, I would’ve already thrown him through a window. Shit, he’s coming…)
“So, you wanted to talk to me about this new bookazine we’ve created?”
“Yes. Why won’t you DIE!”
“Sorry, I don’t follow you”.
“Why. Why did you do it? What made you think you could get away with it?”
“Bookazines will be all the rage in the next couple of years though. We believe they’re a superior product to, say, the humble magazine, or the traditional book”.
“Oh my GOD. Ok, ok, tell me this; how do they differ from either a book or a magazine?”
“Well, they’re thicker than a book for one thing”.
“Sorta, book-thickness?”
“No, not quite as thick as a book”.
“But you don’t know what book I’m thinking of”.
“Lord of the Rings?”
“Fuck. How did you…”
“The t-shirt. I guessed it from the t-shirt”.
“So it’s thicker than Smash Hits but not as thick as the War and Peace, is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes, we saw a gap in the markiet and we went for it”.
“Ah, but you didn’t, did you. There was no gap”.
“I don’t follow”.
“There’s something you didn’t think of. Something you forgot about when you and your little designer name-making-up friends thought you’d struck gold”.
“What’s that then”.
“The Guinness Book of fucking Records”.
“Ah…”
“Got ya. What’s that then?”
“Well, erm, that’s a, erm”
“Ahaha, fucking knew it. Busted”.
“That’s an Annual. Totally different. Different kettle of fish. Bookazines are a very different animal”.
“You what?”
“An Annual. So there’s comics which are really thin, then magazines – slightly thicker, but generally still on the thin-side. Then there’s books which are too thick for the average person to hold, and then, then, there’s Annuals. Which are huge – and aren’t meant for reading on the bus”.
“And where do Bookazines come into in all of this”.
“Just in-between magazines and books. Hence the name”.
“I hate you”.
“Do you want a bookazine? Is that what you want. Do you, want, this, bookazine?”
“That one? The Cheryl Cole one?”
“Yes, do you, want it? You can have it if you want. It’ll be our little secret. Just you, me, and the bub(4) staff”.
“Really? I can have it?”
“No. No you can’t”.
“I hate you”.
/scene.
Seriously though, Bookazine. COME ON!
Footnotes:
*Public House
(1) Clearly the words ‘mate’ and ‘buddy’ added together.
(2) Half a John Smiths and half a Stella Artios.
(3) Err, come on, that’s what you get if you add the words ‘plynth’ and ‘table’ together. Err, HELLO.
(4) It’s a bar and pub, you idiot.
P.S. As I was writing this blog, news came out that Cheryl Cole’s relationship with Ashley Cole was over. Sorry Cheryl, I know it’s a tough time for you both, and I know you asked for privacy at this sad time, but come on, Bookazine? Come on. Really?
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