Ms Crepuscular Declares War (‘Oy, Rodney’) REPRINT

20 Terrible Romance Covers ideas | romance covers, romance, romance novels

 

From June 6, 2021

Introducing Chapter CDXXVII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular deviates from her narrative to declare war on Barney Rubble, host of the incredibly popular TV talk show, Great Book by Idiots.

“If it’s the last thing I do,” she crepusculates, “I’ll fix that Barney Rubble! Imagine putting me on a show called Great Books by Idiots, to talk about some silly book called The Great Ghatsby or some such thing! I thought we were there to talk about my training regime for my pet click beetle, Mandrake. Instead, some comic book I never heard of!

“Well, he won’t get away with it! My neighbor, Mr. Pitfall, is going to visit him some night with a horsewhip. But more impotently, he has already lined up for me another television appearance, this time with Mervyn Puncho–a fantastic celebrity who needs no introduction! And then we’ll see who’s the idiot!”

Ronaldo statue: Sculptor Emanuel Santos takes another shot at bust - BBC News

Mervyn Puncho, a celebrity who needs no introduction

Meanwhile, Chapter CDXXVII has gotten rather short shrift. Seeking a way to nullify Lord Jeremy Coldsore’s unexplained paranormal infatuation with The Woman in Moldy Knickers, who died 600 years ago, Jeremy’s friends continue to discuss a possible solution to the problem. It must be remembered that this ghost, moldy knickers and all, was once laid to rest by a man who looks like Lee J. Cobb.

“What we want,” says Johnno the Merry Minstrel, “is another man who looks like Lee J. Cobb.”

“Who the dickens is Lee J. Cobb?” wonders Willis Twombley, the American adventurer who thinks he’s Sargon of Akkad. He has a stake in Lady Margo Cargo’s now-threatened marriage to Lord Jeremy: she is convinced that Willis and Jeremy are the same person.

“Yeen the riffit corblinkin’ shirtlift!” exclaims Constable Chumley. The other two cannot but agree.

Scurveyshire’s Unexplained Paranormal Romance (‘Oy, Rodney’)

Sargon of Akkad – Lee Duigon

(Editor’s Note: We couldn’t use this cover last week because people wrote in to say they thought the man in the tube socks was Sargon of Akkad. The management regrets the confusion.)

Introducing Chapter CDXXIV of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular shares a letter from a reader: “Phoebe, writing from a place in  Ohio that I have promised not to mention, wishes my book would feature a paranormal romance. What a coincidence! I was only just saying, to myself and to my neighbor, Mr. Pitfall, that this book needs a paranormal romance almost as much as I do!”

To this end, she introduces the mysterious and vaguely threatening Woman in Moldy Knickers, who haunts the tool shed on the grounds of Coldsore Hall. Her ghost was supposed to have been laid to rest 500 years ago by a man who looked like Lee J. Cobb. But now the sorcery of Black Rodney has brought her back. You could look it up.

Her purpose seems to be to seduce Lord Jeremy Coldsore into a relationship that is something other than wholesome. He first sees her floating past his bedroom window, softly tapping on a set of bongo drums and grinning like a queen of Elfland.

“Forsooth!” he circumvallates. “Margo, Schmargo, I’m in love! Who is this glorious creature that floateth past my bedroom window?” He goes into a regular theme song which I will not attempt to reproduce.

“Will this destroy his chances of wedding Lady Margo Cargo?” Violet challenges her readers. I thought she was supposed to write the book. Is it fair to lay this burden on the reader? “Be sure the next chapter will include the most dramatic expostulations I can find!”

And Now, Another One…

Image result for images of silly romance novels

What have I done, to deserve all these invitations to review preposterous and sleazy romance novels?

Today I’ve been invited to review “a sensual and supernatural journey” featuring a torrid romance between a “dragon king” who is, inevitably, “darkly handsome,” and a “beautiful and mysterious woman”–they’re all mysterious, in more ways than one–with the loopy name of “Arianrhod Deatherage.” Says the perky publicist, who obviously has an abysmally low opinion of my literary taste, “Happily-Ever-After Meets Modern Empowerment in a Steamy New Paranormal Romance.” Lemmeouttahere.

I wonder what effect it has on the brain, to consume vast quantities of books like this. What does their very existence say about our culture?

Nothing good!

Violet Crepuscular come back, all is forgiven.