February 13, 2006 (PRLEAP.COM) Entertainment News
‘Smirnov’s head felt as if it had been pulverized by five volumes of Yellow Pages sculpted into a fist. Come to think of it, it wasn’t just his head which thumped. His face and stomach felt like it had been used for cover in a skirmish in the Balklands. Then he remembered… Smirnov hobbled into the car park wearing a silvery, two-piece space suit type outfit with large silver, glittery boots. It was the most conservative thing he could find. The effects of his legs hadn’t fully worn off so it was quite a struggle walking to the car looking like a drunken prick with sprained ankles but eventually he reached Hurbie and got in. As he put his foot down what followed was an amazingly unflattering and pathetic escape attempt. The vehicle stalled instantaneously. ‘Don’t go! Don’t go babe!’ Amber was shouting from the balcony. Despite the distance, Smirnov could see Amber’s lips quiver and her tears spreading her mascara. ‘It’s dangerous babe! You can’t leave. It’s hot out there, it’s changed!’ ‘

Idea for a novel. Following an incident in a nightclub in Manchester, the phenomenally successful writer (and artist), Smirnov Kool (the Beckham of literature) finds himself in a series of alternative realities. Is it a world in which gangster blood smugglers run amuck? Or is reality a transparent metropolis where every naked citizen live in their glass houses, enjoying their shallow existence? Could there really be a world where taxis are controlled by Broadband? And what kind of society celebrates Benny and Bjorn’s boy band homicide? How do you explain a place where your lover is made out of balsa wood? What will Smirnov learn during his journey and what of the people left behind? Contains scenes of extreme bitterness, hedonism, self-pity and regret

Among the dramatis personae in these worlds, we also meet Fritz Pinterfool, Smirnov’s associate and nervous breakdown waiting to happen, Tristain Thomas, a freelance journalist and nervous breakdown in progress and some fleeting celebrity appearances including an obese Elton John. The novel is set in the future of my imagination but created in my past. It could be a kitchen sink drama, although I’d love it to be an epic science fiction novel, spiked with laptop comic moments (whatever these might be). It might even be a confessional semi-autobiographical, dirt-dishing tale about sexual conquests, dreams and nightmares, and yet, nothing more than a daydream I had in 1982 in a school playground in Bristol, during the onslaught of German measles.

‘Whoever you are, you’re in for a real treat.’ M. Gregory, tired hack
‘A love story for sadists.’ Zadie Tart

Jason Winstanley has done many things and still has many ambitions, one of which at the time of writing, is to run his own toast bar, just him and a neat toaster in a spacious white room, selling slices of toasted broad for extortionate prices to suckers daft enough to part with their money. Habitat and Selfridges currently have no plans to provide a space for him.


1. What are you influences?

I don’t know. That’s for people to tell me. Probably too many.

2. Have you ever said ‘I hope you rot in hell’ and not meant it?

Of course not. Hell doesn’t exist.

3. When was the last time you laughed and laughed?

I don’t laugh and laugh as much as I used to. Probably when Batman stormed Buckingham Place. Or when Nick Stokes was buried alive in CSI ‘Grave Danger’.

4. Which novel past or present did you wish you had written?
I’ve been writing it for ten years.

5. What piece of advice would you give to anyone starting out or wanting to write?

Don’t join a writers group or take a course in creative writing, or pay any attention to jaded writers at college. It may seem harsh but in my experience, unless you’re in it for a laugh, it’s rare to find someone who is inspiring. Listen to those who you look up to. Do it yourself. Just read a wide range of stuff…separate the crap from the good stuff…and emulate the good stuff. It’s that simple. If you fail it’s better to do it alone rather than take everyone else with you.


He once threw a bucket of spiders over 50 Cent for a laugh.

He had a Polish friend at school whose dad could get him Polish bacon if he wanted. Polish bacon was the best, you see. He wasn’t promising anything, but if you wanted, he could get some for you.

He was daft enough to be a teacher for 4 years.

1993 and 1997 are among his favourite years.

He likes Dolphins.

For more information about ‘Replika’ and other works by Jason Winstanley visit www.lulu.com/jasonwinstanley and/or http://autonomousreplika.blogspot.com/ which is probably better.