Interview:
Ray Banks: On Mexican Taffy, Dead Hookers, Ruth Rendell and more
By Sandra Ruttan
Sandra: Cal Innes meets Ray Banks. What does he think of you? How does he describe you?
Ray: The words "fat" and "bearded" would make an appearance, but not a lot else. I'm not very interesting.
Sandra: Your short story, MONEY SHOT, is in the anthology EXPLETIVE DELETED and your story WRONG ‘EM, BOYO was in DUBLIN NOIR. You’ve actually had a lot of short stories published. How do your short stories differ from your novels?
Ray: They're about 73k shorter. And the short stories featuring Cal exist in a kind of alternate universe where he's more of a traditional PI character. Otherwise, I don't see any major differences. I have written a couple of third-persons, but mostly the shorts are still voice- and character-based.
Sandra: Which do you find more challenging to write?
Ray: Novels, definitely. Someone's paying for them, investing more than a couple of minutes in them, too. I want to give them their money's worth. The shorts are free for the most part, and don't carry the same kind of expectation. But I'm learning the novel thing, and it's getting easier. Kind of.
Sandra: Which of your short stories is your favourite, and why?
Ray: I have a soft spot for "Wrong 'Em Boyo", because that's the first story I wrote for an anthology and I don't know how I could've made it any better. Right now, my favourite happens to be the one I did for Neil Smith's Mississippi Review that's getting the Best British treatment next year – "The Last Kayfabe". I did quite a bit of research for that one, and it pulls on a world that people think they know – American wrestling – and gives it a wee tweak.
Sandra: Now, as a lapsed Catholic, where does all the fascination with the dark side of humanity come from?
Ray: Kind of answered your own question there. But I'm not all that interested in the darkness, to be honest. I'm more interested in people who think of themselves as morally sound, but who make unfortunate moral decisions.
Sandra: Although it seems to me from what I’ve read of your work that your interests take you to the criminal side of the equation. Not about the cop faced with a moral dilemma on the job, or the real average Joe who gets caught up in a mess. Why is that?
Ray: Cops don't interest me at all, unless you're talking Wambaugh's or Willeford's cops or the beat cops in Will Beall's stuff, where they're actual people instead of sad sack ciphers listening to jazz and mulling over cold case files. The problem I see with the police as characters is that, because of their profession, they're one stage removed from the actual drama in most crime novels. When you're reading a police procedural, you're being fed information about the central crime through this filter of the investigating officer. As the detective understands the crime, you're supposed to understand it in the same way. There's really no room for interpretation in that; you're not really being asked to make up your own mind. And when the bad guy's caught, that's it. Order comes out of chaos, and the mystery is solved.
But it strikes me that the most interesting thing has already happened by the time the police get on the scene. Now whether you want to call Cal Innes and Alan Slater criminals or not is another matter. Personally, I class them as closer to the average Joe, albeit an average Joe who's marginalized and closer to the gutter than Mr Two-Point-Four-Kids. They're not professional criminals, though they have committed crimes, so I suppose they're somewhere in between. And what's fascinating to me isn't the mystery to be solved – there's never a question as to who did what in my books, and that "what" is very rarely murder, too – but how people get themselves into a position where crime is the only logical outcome, especially if they're actively trying to avoid it. To do that, I think you have to throw away the filter, get right in there and have a good poke around. And hopefully somewhere in the muck is the blood and bones and guts that Harry Crews talks about.
That's what I'm shooting for anyway. Everything else – the puzzle-solving, the politics – is kind of ephemeral.
Sandra: Getting back to the lapsed Catholic topic, I sometimes get the feeling people assume the religious have a higher standard of morality. Many of the laws in our society are based off of religious views – we hear Scots talk about the Protestant work ethic, for example. How does your own religious background shape your writing?
Ray: It doesn't. No more than anyone else's, anyway.
Sandra: Is there anything you’ve written, or want to write, that is influenced more by your own personal experiences?
Ray: Oh, it's all influenced by personal experience. What's that Willeford said - the novel's the case history of the writer? Absolutely.
Sandra: You’re part of a new generation of British crime writers who’ve delved into the heart of the mean streets and criminal enterprises.
Ray: I'd be interested to know who this new generation is, actually. Apart from Guthrie and Williams, could you give me a few names? Be nice to know who I'm supposed to be reading.
Sandra: I’m hoping Russel McLean’s name will be added to that list before long, but okay, maybe it isn’t a generation. Maybe it’s a small mutation that in the future will be eliminated through genetic engineering. Still, I can’t help viewing you guys as pioneers who are paving the way for the emergence of true British hardboiled/noir fiction (not wanting to start a definition debate). Which writers have had the biggest impact on you?
Ray: Other than the people we've already mentioned, not many British authors. Ted Lewis is the first one that springs to mind. Great books. On the stylistic side, he did fractured timelines brilliantly in GBH and Billy Rags, and he had dual narrators in Plender. This isn't mentioning the obvious, either – that Jack's Return Home is a fucking masterpiece. But, of course, with the exception of Jack's Return Home (which was turned into Get Carter), his books are out of print. Then there's Derek Raymond, who took the torch in the eighties with the Factory novels. His are the only police procedurals where I haven't felt that distance between investigating officer and crime. And he's only recently started coming back into print again. Ken Bruen, definitely, but he's Irish. London Boulevard was the first I read of his and it knocked my socks off – I didn't know crime novels could be written with that kind of swagger and cadence. But on the whole, American writers have had a bigger impact, I would say. And there's too many of them to mention.
Sandra: We tend to associate British crime fiction with police procedurals and the likes of Agatha Christie. Has it been challenging to gain an audience in a market that tends to be dominated by other crime subgenres?
Ray: I think it's safe to say I don't have a huge audience in the UK – though the one I do have is remarkably good-looking. And intelligent. But it's almost impossible to get a sizeable readership in the UK right off the bat, especially if you're not writing police procedurals. Having said that, it doesn't really bother me. I have a day job to pay the bills.
Sandra: Do you think this mentality helps you focus more on the quality of work instead of the pressure to conform to sell well?
Ray: I suppose, yeah. I'm published by primarily literary presses, so conformity hasn't really been an issue. I don't know what I'd conform to anyway. Plenty of books out there following the formula which tank. Besides, I'd much rather fail with something I'm reasonably proud of, go down swinging.
Sandra: There will always be debates on what can become tiresome subjects, and if asked what was the most annoying of the past year I’d probably say the torture porn discussion. For you, as a writer, do you have any limits for what you’re willing to deal with on the page?
Ray: No. I'm willing to deal with anything. I just have to watch how I deal with it. Which really just takes common sense.
Sandra: Do you consider whether the violence is gratuitous or excessive or any of that when you’re writing?
Ray: No. It's personal taste. I don't think SATURDAY'S CHILD is that violent, but I understand it might seem that way, considering violence is shown to have a lasting, detrimental effect. Honestly? It's not something I think about. I'm pretty sure I'm not corrupting anyone, but I might be wrong.
Sandra: Name the last five books you read you wished you’d written.
Ray: What The Dead Know, Laura Lippman; The Prone Gunman, Jean-Patrick Manchette; The Goodbye Kiss, Massimo Carlotto; No Beast So Fierce, Edward Bunker and, even though I read this ages ago, Winter's Bone, Daniel Woodrell.
Sandra: If you were a weapon what weapon would you be and why?
Ray: I'd either be a bunch of batteries in a sock, or a six-inch nail shoved into a Mars Bar (a weapon of choice for the football hooligans back in the day). Why? Because there's something quintessentially British about them – vicious and ingenious at the same time.
Sandra: Tell us about NO MORE HEROES and BEAST OF BURDEN.
Ray: NO MORE HEROES is set in Manchester - finally! - and concerns arson, race relations and heroism. Should be out in the UK some time in 2008, that one. And BEAST OF BURDEN is being written as we speak, so it may change. But at the moment, it's a good old-fashioned murder mystery / revenge story.
Sandra: Since you’re a Scot I actually think it might be hard to choose, but what’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever eaten?
Ray: There's a mate of mine at work who's into all these weird exotic foods you can buy off the internet, and he forced some kind of Mexican taffy on me one day – "Oh, it's nice, it's kinda fruity and salty at the same time." I believe I actually gagged. Worse than the time my wife's parents made me eat fat.
Sandra: Why on earth would anyone make you eat fat?
Ray: They said it was "gravy" – it's a Mid-West thing, stodgy farm food. Turned out to be congealed bacon grease with flour. Which tastes exactly the way it sounds.
Sandra: What’s the dumbest thing you ever did?
Ray: Eating that Mexican taffy. Seriously, it was like Salo in my mouth. Violently disgusting.
Sandra: Since you have a day job, how do you balance your schedule to allow for your writing time?
Ray: Well, the day job's just gone to four days a week now, which you'd think would give me more time, but I have other things on the go, so it doesn't work out like that. The short answer: I don't have a social life, and we don't have kids. I stay up late, and I write weekends. When you've got a year to produce a book, it's really not that big a deal. You find time.
Sandra: You say you don’t have a social life but have other things on the go. What are these things?
Ray: Can't really talk about 'em at the moment. Nothing's signed. Ask me again in a couple of years.
Sandra: Did you get bullied as a child?
Ray: No, I was a big lad, more than capable of holding my own. What makes you think I was bullied?
Sandra: I never said I thought you were bullied. But since you weren’t, did you pick on kids or get into a lot of fights?
Ray: I didn't pick on anyone. I did get into a few fights. Not so much now, though.
Sandra: If there was one thing about your life you could go back and change what would it be and why?
Ray: Don't you know you're not supposed to meddle in the past? Has the time-travel episode of The Simpsons taught us nothing?
Sandra: Ah, the Simpsons. Doesn’t it offend you that Homer is portrayed as the everyman and yet he’s a complete idiot?
Ray: Doesn't offend me at all. It's the American everyman he's portraying, not the Scottish (that was Rab C. Nesbitt (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rab_C._Nesbitt) apparently). And even if I was American, it wouldn't offend me. The guy's faithful to his wife, relatively moral, goes to church most Sundays, has a steady job. So he's got an eating disorder. Big deal. Besides, in our current cultural climate, the father of the family is always portrayed as a loveable idiot. You don't believe me, watch a bunch of adverts. Or any sitcom of the last twenty fucking years.
Sandra: Assuming you know the parallel universe episode of Futurama, the one with the box… What would be the scariest reality you could imagine another Ray Banks living in?
Ray: The one where he's giving marketing advice to unpublished writers.
Sandra: Will you be doing any American conventions in 2008?
Ray: Not doing any American conventions for the foreseeable future, I'm afraid. Kills me that I'm missing Noircon and Baltimore Bouchercon, but it's all just too expensive for three or four days' worth of convention. Should be at Crimefest in Bristol, though.
Sandra: What inspired your love of books and writing?
Ray: Poverty. A particularly bad time in my life was saved by the library that stocked a lot of the Rebel Inc. paperbacks, so I was reading Algren, London, Fante and Dodge. It's difficult not to be inspired after reading that lot.
Sandra: You mentioned, “NO MORE HEROES is set in Manchester -finally!” How important is a sense of place for you in your writing? Why the desire to write about Manchester, and why hasn’t previous work been set there?
Ray: Well, I've set books in Manchester before – The Big Blind is set there, for instance. I just meant that for a Manchester PI, Cal's spent more time in Newcastle and Los Angeles than the city where he's supposed to live. The only reason I wrote about it in the first place was because I spent quite a while living there in less than salubrious circumstances, so I knew its rough spots.
A sense of place isn't really that important to me. Yeah, Newcastle has a different vibe to Manchester, but that's about all it is – a vibe. I'm not going to be one of these writers who attaches himself to a particular city and writes about it his whole life. Places don't interest me very much; people do.
Sandra: I guess what I meant was, why Newcastle? What prompted the setting shifts, considering Innes is based in Manchester? Why Newcastle over, say, Leeds? (As someone who’s barely been through Manchester and never been to Newcastle, I can’t speak to their differences, other than how you present them.)
Ray: I live in Newcastle. And I used to live in Manchester. There you go. Simple, really.
Sandra: I may get my knuckles rapped here, but to quote from SATURDAY’S CHILD:
The drink-shakes private dick, a walking, talking cliché. I should be shot for crimes against reality.
Now, somehow, the acknowledgement of the cliché seems to pardon Innes for any similarities he has to the PI clichés and humanize him. How hard is it to bring something new to the PI genre?
Ray: First off, that line's kinda cheap, isn't it? Seeing it sit there all out in the open and everything, it makes me look like one of those postmodern arses who reckon that if I mention enough PI movies and books, I'll be ironic and self-aware. That isn't the case, I hope. I don't believe that if you identify something as a cliché, it stops being a cliché. And Innes only refers to himself as a PI because it sits in his conscience better than "hatchet man" or "ex-con". Which is how other people see him, and which is probably closer to the truth. Also, being a PI excuses his drinking problem in a romantic way (same with Donna and her "lady of leisure" bit).
Anyway, getting back to the question: I don't know how hard it is to bring something new to the PI novel, because I'm barely educated in the sub-genre. The truth is I just wrote a PI story that I wanted to read, with characters I cared about and could empathise with. I don't think about the genre. I honestly don't think it's my job to think about the genre, is it? Do you think about how you're changing the traditional police procedural with your stuff, Sandra?
Sandra: No, not really. The main reason for asking is just to see what you think about it. There’s been a lot of talk about the death of the PI in crime fiction, and my own feeling is that if you become too obsessed with doing something fresh you end up writing something forced, and probably unbelievable. I’m also leery when lists of rules are bandied about, the must-do’s and the no-no’s. Some are valid, sure, but it’s dangerous for writers to get too obsessed with things like that, because the writing ends up being more of a reaction to other people’s opinions than from the heart, if you follow me. I mean, if we wrote to try to make everyone happy we’d never finish anything, and we’d always be second-guessing ourselves. PJ Parrish once said the best advice they got early on was from Jan Burke, to just keep your head down and write the best book you can, and I think it’s great advice to new writers. Don’t obsess over the people running around acting like authoritarians, telling you what to do and how to do it. If they knew everything they’d be millionaires instead of running around telling everyone else what to do.
What about you? What’s the best piece of advice you ever got, or what advice would you give to those trying to write the break-out PI novel?
Ray: I've never had anyone tell me that I couldn't do what I've done or what I'm going to do with Cal Innes. Possibly it's because they know my reaction to that would be less than accommodating, but I also think that I was never that interested in being part of a genre, so I didn't court that kind of opinion.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my association with private eye fiction, I love being part of a sub-genre that has writers like Laura Lippman, Walter Mosley, George Pelecanos, Dennis Lehane, James Sallis and James Crumley knocking about. Some of the best writers working today have written PI fiction. But I'm not going to get hung up on what's expected of a "private eye novel", because that's not my job. My job is to write a book that I can be proud of. It's the marketing department's job to pin a genre to it. Then it's the critic's job to ascertain whether that genre was a comfy fit, and whether the book is of any value to strangers. The only thing you need to make sure of is that you're happy with what goes out. It's your name on the spine, after all. Everything else – all the "buzz" about a hot young thing who signed a contract when they were a fetus, the latest ingenious and foolproof way of marketing yourself that usually involves some technology that's a good couple of years old; "torture porn"; gender issues; declining readership due to that damn MTV and game consoles – is pure ephemera.
So, yeah, I'd agree with Jan Burke's advice. Sounds on the money to me. The best advice I ever had is very similar, actually: "Worry about what you can control, and those are the words on the page. Everything else is a lottery." Very wise man said that to me, though he doesn't remember it.
That about sums it up, but I'd add to that: "Feel free to ignore everything you're told, especially if it comes out of my mouth." Because as of February, I'll have four published books to my name. Hardly makes me a veteran, does it? So what do I know about anything?
Sandra: More than someone with three books out, I suppose. Seriously, many crime writers say we’re actually quite nice and normal because we get our aggression out on the page. Would you agree with that for yourself?
Ray: I'd be wary what any writer says - they're professional liars and they're narcissistic enough to believe something as simplistic as that. Personally, I don't think I'm particularly nice, and I know for a fact I'm not normal. And the idea of writing as therapy … I don't know. I don't think so. Seems a touch on the happy-clappy side for me. I'd rather keep myself ignorant about the whys and wherefores, to be honest.
Sandra: Have you ever killed someone you knew in real life off in fiction?
Ray: No. There's not a lot of murder in my stuff at all. I wouldn't do that anyway. Seems kind of childish.
The following portion of the interview is presented in conjunction with Brian Lindenmuth’s interview with Allan Guthrie at Mystery Bookspot.
http://www.fantasybookspot.com/node/2343
Sandra: If your eternal fate was to live as a character in one of Al Guthrie’s novels which character would you want to be and why?
Ray: Hilda. Man, I'd like to be loved as much as Pearce loves that dog. The guy would die for that Dandy Dinmont.
Sandra: Is it going to be a problem if your wife reads this?
Ray: I don't see why it would. There's nothing as pure as the love between a man and his three-legged dog named after his mum. Wait, that didn't come out right . . .
Brian Lindenmuth: Since I'm from Baltimore I have to ask. If you could spend a day as one of the characters from The Wire who would it be and why?
Allan Guthrie: Omar, of course. You have to ask?
Sandra: Since we’ve been talking about Al, if he was a character on THE WIRE, who would he be and why?
Ray: You know I'm going to say Brother Mouzone. And I'm sure Al will appreciate that. He's the only person I know who could do justice to a dicky-bow. Or look that out-of-place in the projects.
Brian Lindenmuth: Omar...hmmmm interesting. So, between Duane and Ray, who would be your Brandon and who would be your Brother Mouzone?
Allan Guthrie: My Brandon would have to be a very fit lad and I don't think either Duane or Ray would be up to the job, to be honest. As for Brother Mouzone... you know, I can see Duane and Ray fighting each other at the prospect of getting to wear a bow-tie. So maybe that's the way to go. A cage fight. To the death. Two men enter, one comes out. With a bow-tie.
Sandra: If you were lube wrestling with Al Guthrie which one of you would win and why?
Ray: That's a tough one. I have the weight advantage, but he's fast. If I managed to pin him early enough, before he got too slippery, I'd win. Otherwise, I'd have to concede to Guthrie - he's got the terrier spirit and he's impossible to put down for long.
Brian Lindenmuth: Speaking of Ray: What do you think Ray's best feature is his eyes or his butt?
Allan Guthrie: His butt, definitely. Very shapely.
Sandra: What do you think Al’s best feature is, his eyes or his butt?
Ray: I'm like you girls – the most important thing to me is his sense of humour. And his massive penis.
Brian Lindenmuth: If Ray was going to perform in drag, what would his stage name be?
Allan Guthrie: As an homage: Ruth Rendell.
Sandra: If Al was going to perform in drag, what would his stage name be?
Ray: Amber Raines. I won't tell you too much about his finale, but he drinks a lot of water during the performance, and the song he sings is "Stormy Weather". In an Ethel Merman voice. Really belts it out. From both ends.
Sandra: When did you start having fantasies about mud wrestling with Ruth Rendell?
Ray: Arm-wrestling. Cage matches. Never mud wrestling. See, this is how things get out of control. And they aren't fantasies, they're legitimate invitations. She wants to come down and go over the top with me, I can arrange it. Bring it on.
Sandra: On Stuart MacBride’s blog you said, “There was nothing nude involved. A simple arm-wrestle, that's all, which Rendell seems unable to come to terms with. If she suggests a full-on jelly wrestle, I will be forthcoming. I have a hankering for the sweet, slimy feel of aspic on my guns.” http://halfhead.blogspot.com/2005/07/three-nights-of-drunken-debauchery.html
So we’ll blame Stuart for starting the nude jell-o wrestling rumour, but let’s be honest: secretly, you’d love to see her in a string bikini in a tub of gelatin, wouldn’t you? Okay, seriously, where did this whole thing start? It had to predate the Bearded Wonderboy’s blog comment. What’s the deal with you and Ruth?
Ray: It started with photos like this, this and this, that's where it started. Turns out you can't put a camera on Rendell without her treating us to a gun show. She's cold and she's violent and there's certain among us – though we voice this in hushed tones around a flickering camp fire – that believe all Rendell did was drop the G.
I also hear she eated peeled babies. Hey, it's a rumour. Don't mean it ain't true. And it don't mean I can't spread it. Just like Roger Moore and the glass coffee table.
Sandra: And if you, Al and Duane were in a boy band what would you be called?
Ray: Actually, funny you should mention that, because we were in a boy band for about a year, before it all went to shit. Called ourselves Afternoon Delight. Had one album – Stand Up For The Key Change – which Randy D-Dog Jackson produced for us when he wasn't fucking around trying to get back into Journey. Had plenty of yo, too. I mean, Randy was feelin' it. He did stuff with his hands. And a few singles – "Beer Makes You Pretty (But Not Beautiful)", "Spicy Beef Taco" and "If There's Grass On The Bitch (Let's Play)" – did well in Latvia.
But then Duane killed that hooker in Kansas City, and we couldn't go on after that. He ruined Christmas, man. I couldn't going to roll with a guy who Grinched like that. And Al . . . Well, Al was just pissed off we had to bury her.
Sandra: Authors sometimes talk about collaborating… and then there’s all the talk about innovation in the genre, and over here the pressure to self promote like crazy. I just wondered if you, Al and Duane have considered doing something more like parties for men, where you sell sex toys or porn products and limit readings to elements from the books or short stories that tie in. Al could handle the hamsters, for example. And he should really go after royalties for wearing the pussy snorkel t-shirt on panels at conventions.
Ray: You're really obsessed with Al, aren't you? What the hell are Duane and I supposed to be doing at these parties?
I'll tell you what we will be doing – standing around looking uncomfortable and silently judging everyone in the room. It's what us Catholic boys are best at.
Al: What you Catholic boys are best at is burying dead hookers. Prema-fucking-turely. I’ll never forget Kansas. It was all right for you. You had your girlfriend to keep you company on those long lonely nights in the van. What was her name again? … Cilla, that’s right. And would you let me and Duane have a shot? Nope, you’d just jeer at us, call us a pair of wankers. And then you’d laugh when you woke us up every night when you let the air out of her.
Sandra: You mean you’d waste time judging when you could get great material for a new book? I mean, I have read your short story, MONEY SHOT…
Ray: Alright – researching. And quietly judging. But not participating. Too lazy.
Sandra: So Duane’s Catholic? Are you sure you two aren’t just ganging up on Al, portraying him as the naughty ringleader, because he’s former Salvation Army?
Ray: Duane was an altar boy, so he's technically much more Catholic than I ever was. And it's those Salvation Army types you want to watch out for (http://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/news/special-reports/crimes-that-rocked-scotland/2007/10/19/a-sex-mad-killer-in-the-salvation-army-86908-19978507/).
Sandra: Why did you give up your promising career in opera?
Ray: A cougar bit me. What that cougar was doing in a performance of La Traviata is beyond me. Everyone knows that cougars have a preference for Bizet.
Sandra: Which artist could best produce the soundtrack to your life?
Ray: I don't know about doing a good job, but Tom Waits would at least make it interesting. Besides, we have a lot in common – we both had barfly years, spiky German pot-banging years, and now we're both obsessed with Americana and old standards. Plus, we both enjoy lying in interviews. Failing that, I'd dig Mr Morricone playing whenever I entered a room. That'd be sweet.
Sandra: Train, plane or motorcycle?
Ray: Planes have movies, so definitely planes.
Sandra: If you could have a bobblehead doll of an author, which author and why?
Ray: Truman Capote. The guy looked like a bobblehead anyway. Or Charles Willeford. With that big old moustache and bald head, I think he'd make an excellent bobblehead. There's a part of me that thinks he'd quite like the kitsch element of it, too.
Sandra:
- castration,
- prolonged asphyxiation,
- hung upside down and flogged,
- doused with petrol and set on fire,
- pushed from a high building and landing on fence posts or
- drowned in a toilet that’s been used and not flushed?
Ray: I'd opt for castration, as long as it was relatively painless. If it's a choice of living without me meat and two veg or dying, I'll choose a higher register. I'm so comfortable with my manliness, I don't even need balls to prove it.
Sandra: Legs or breasts?
Ray: We always go for a turkey crown in our house.
Sandra: When did you start having fantasies about mud wrestling with Ruth Rendell?
Ray: Arm-wrestling. Cage matches. Never mud wrestling. See, this is how things get out of control. And they aren't fantasies, they're legitimate invitations. She wants to come down and go over the top with me, I can arrange it. Bring it on.
Sandra: On Stuart MacBride’s blog you said, “There was nothing nude involved. A simple arm-wrestle, that's all, which Rendell seems unable to come to terms with. If she suggests a full-on jelly wrestle, I will be forthcoming. I have a hankering for the sweet, slimy feel of aspic on my guns.” http://halfhead.blogspot.com/2005/07/three-nights-of-drunken-debauchery.html
So we’ll blame Stuart for starting the nude jell-o wrestling rumour, but let’s be honest: secretly, you’d love to see her in a string bikini in a tub of gelatin, wouldn’t you? Okay, seriously, where did this whole thing start? It had to predate the Bearded Wonderboy’s blog comment. What’s the deal with you and Ruth?
Ray: It started with photos like
this (http://www.theage.com.au/ffximage/2006/12/22/ruth_narrowweb__300x426,0.jpg)
and this (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/arts/graphics/2005/04/11/barendell11.jpg) - that's where it started. Turns out you can't put a camera on Rendell without her treating us to a gun show. She's cold and she's violent and there's certain among us – though we voice this in hushed tones around a flickering camp fire – that believe all Rendell did was drop the G.
I also hear she eated peeled babies. Hey, it's a rumour. Don't mean it ain't true. And it don't mean I can't spread it. Just like Roger Moore and the glass coffee table.
Sandra: Security blanket or thumb-sucker?
Ray: Ambien.
Sandra: What was your childhood like?
Ray: Uneventful.