I Only Watch 18s Book Club: The Golden Age of Censorship

I normally don’t read fiction books – I usually limit myself to non-fiction books about films (obviously), swearing and/or ghosts.  However, The Golden Age of Censorship is fiction, but it is also about films (with particular emphasis on 18s) and it has swearing in.  I was about to write about how it didn’t have any ghosts in, but then I realised that it actually bloody does – this made me laugh.  Not audibly, I sort of shrugged my shoulders and I smiled – the kind of smile that if anyone caught me doing it on the bus might think I was a bus perv, but in the context of my bedroom is slightly less malicious.  Or maybe more.  It doesn’t help that I’m naked and have a knife in my hand I suppose.

Anyway, the book’s fiction.  Unfortunately it only cemented my aversion to fiction because I didn’t really enjoy it.  It’s about a bunch of people working at the BBFC and the scrapes and antics they manage to get themselves into (NB.  The scrapes and antics are not interesting).  It’s written by Paul Hoffman, himself an ex-BBFC board member, and also the author of The Wisdom of Crocodiles – which was made into an 18.  It’s not about crocodiles though.  I don’t know why they bother.

So this one is quite good for the first 100-odd pages but then it gets a bit boring, BUT THEN THERE’S SOME SEX, but then it gets a bit boring again.  This is where I stopped reading it and read a magazine instead.  Then I turned off the light and tried to get to sleep, but as usual I couldn’t sleep, so I thought, I know, I’ll pick up that boring book I was reading and that’ll send me to sleep.

So I did, and then I thought that I should probably finish the book because otherwise it would be a waste of money and I don’t like wasting money.  So I finished it and was entirely underwhelmed.

I even sighed out loud.  And last time I sighed out loud things were pretty bad – let’s just say it involved a lingerie model and some Pokemon boxer shorts.

So The Golden Age of Censorship doesn’t come with my recommendations, but then I’d read a 134-page book with a picture of a bum doing an eggy eggy guffter on each page, so I might not be the best authority on this kind of stuff.

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