?Have you ever imagined shoving someone by the throat up against a wall and then punching their face till the eyes are like rotten tomatoes, and the teeth are all pointing at funny angles through the lips, or tinkling to the ground, and the whole thing really looks like raw pizza? If you do occasionally drift off into little reveries like that, you're probably a man. This is partly what this book's going to be about, in case you were wondering. Violence and sex. Movement between fantasy and reality.? The narrator has two passions in life: fucking and boxing. Problem is that when the fucking is good, the boxing ain't and vice versa. Manfully, the narrator strives to do drugs, run a lot round Arthur's seat, keep Mora satisfied and write a piss?take of the Edinburgh novel. But publishers being the sheep they are, they do not want the downside of the myth. If you're on to a good thing why spoil it with the pathetic tale of a narrator who can't keep either his dukes or his prick up. In this erotic, funny novel, John McKenzie delves into what drives boxers to keep getting back into the ring, the practicalities of desire, and the economics of flat-tenancy in the years before the Tories moved in.