Illustrations by Youth
A book review by
Warning. Don’t buy this book unless you have a sense of humour. People of a pompous or moralistic disposition may be offended by it’s ridiculous content.
I have to say that the Nabob of Bombasta is probably the most ridiculous book I’ve ever read, and that it had me laughing like a gibbon from page one. It’s a sort of hallucinogenic wank-mag for aliens, gloriously ludicrous, magnificently deranged.
The book tickled me from the moment I saw the cover. There’s a picture of Brian Barritt’s face imposed upon the image of the Bombastic Nabob, with a pile of women bowing before him. But it’s the look on his face which tells you where this book is coming from. It’s a look of complete mischief, like a deranged imp from the comedy club in hell has just escaped and is about to sodomise your brain.
The language is ripe but delicately graphic, while the plot is a phantasmagorical fantasy of galactic proportions. The central story-line involves the grand coupling between a dwarf called Sod, and a giant sexual centipede called Twatania. Sod is occupying the body of his master, the Nabob of Bombasta, who has fifty-two sexual organs. Meanwhile the Nabob, in the body of Sod, is being pursued down Fulham Road by Sherlock Holmes, recently defictionalised, who is mind-hopping though the passers by in the crowd in order to implant suicidal thoughts into his brain.
I think that gives you some idea of what the book is like. The story romps throughout the galaxy in a series of increasingly insane sexual encounters with a variety of alien life-forms. If you have secret deep-seated sexual fantasies about creatures with fifty vulvas lying supine on a fur-lined table on top of Primrose Hill, ripping off her black silk bloomers with mother of pearl buttons and kicking off an array of white stilettos, then this book will appeal to you.
Not to be given to your Granny for Christmas.