How to Power Your Life-Support With a Lemon

Arthur Smith lives in Kent, London. He is not talented or smart or even handsome. But what Arthur does have going for him is stupidity. And it is this, and a curiously titled manual that spirals him into an adventure with a partner in Crime who couldn't be more of his opposite.


5. Chapter Four

When Arthur awoke to the sweet melody of a vocal rendition of Mozart in the northern accent, he saw the happy face of a twenty year-old with tattoos, tall green hair and duct tape at the knees of a pair of very small jeans. It was smiling down at him.

“You awright there, Bud?” His voice was stained with the north, and Arthur noticed – in a blurry haze of confusion and a sudden need for tea – that the majority of the man’s teeth were false and made of badly dented metal. Arthur suddenly felt his arm tear from its sleep and his socket as the rest of his body was dragged into the air until he landed on his feet. “Ee or’ why ‘ave you got carpy shoes on?” (Arthur later realised that this roughly translated into, “Hold on a second, Sir. Why are you wearing carpet shoes [slippers]?”)

Arthur blinked and shook his head in more confusion before his brow decided it was due time to get angry. “Why the bloody hell did you attack me...Sir?” Arthur was not suave.

“Attack yeh?! I’s was just getting’ the chewy out yer breath pipe. You choked on et tryna impress our biddy Maureen back at the book store.”

“You talk funny.”


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