Thumbs up for Don’t Point That Thing At Me
I was delighted to find another one of these delightful, nasty little jewels. Think Robert B. Parker but British, with a lot more booze and women and cowardice. Bonfiglioli nevers sets a step wrong. These books deserve much better than the anonymity they have fallen into.
“Somewhere in the trash he reads Martland has read that heavy men walk with surprisingly lightness and grace; as a result he trips about like a portly elf hoping to be picked up by a leprechaun. In he pranced, all silent and catlike and absurd, buttocks swaying noiselessly.”
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