No Money Nice Cock

Victor Brooks

Victor has weaponised his incompetence. He fucks up. His friends rescue him. He keeps running… running zigzag. He knows he has to keep moving, to keep ahead of the verbs he has been avoiding: excise; suture; reconstruct; harvest; implant; mobilise.
At 47, Victor's GP informs him, “You're allowed to try and be happy.” This statement, part-revelation, part-manifesto, alive with possibility, was the permission slip and catalyst for change.
Set over half a century across Christchurch, Auckland, Wellington, Melbourne, India, London and Haiti, and written in two parts, NMNC is anarchic, high risk, dopamine-seeking, with little reflection and few apologies — humour finding absurdity in the extremes, and serving as a disarming tool of vulnerability.