Timothy Cavendish:
Never forget Herman Melville, writes a ripping yarn about a big white whale which is summarily dismissed, and yet today it is lugged around in the backpacks of every serious student of literature in the world.
Dermot Hoggins:
I don't give a f*** what happens when I'm dead, I want people to buy me book now!
Timothy Cavendish:
Well, as your publisher, obviously nothing would make me happier. But sadly, for whatever reason, 'Knuckle Sandwich' has yet to connect to its audience.
Dermot Hoggins:
You want a reason? I'll give you a reason [points] Right there!
Timothy Cavendish:
Aaaa, you mean Mr Finch?
Dermot Hoggins:
Felix f***in' Finch! That c*nt that shat all over me book in his poncy f***in' magazine!
Timothy Cavendish:
It wasn't that bad.
Dermot Hoggins:
No? [quotes] 'Mr Hoggins should apologize to the trees failed for the making of his bloated autobio novel. Four hundred vain-glorious pages expire in an ending that is flat and inane beyond belief'.
Timothy Cavendish:
Steady now, Dermot. What is a critic but one who reads quickly, arrogantly, but never wisely.
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