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3 August, 2005

In anticipation, John licked his own lips

As he stared at her ample bosom, he daydreamed of the dual Stromberg carburetors in his vintage Triumph Spitfire, highly functional yet pleasingly formed, perched prominently on top of the intake manifold, aching for experienced hands, the small knurled caps of the oil dampeners begging to be inspected and adjusted as described in chapter seven of the shop manual.
But enough about Mr. Blackah.

The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, is an annual literary challenge to compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels. The quote above was Dan McKay's winning entry in the 2005 competition.

Regretably, the BLFC website is a navigation nightmare, and I don't have time to explore the labyrinth right now, but the related Lyttle Lyttleton contest (same principle, but entries need to be brief) has a much more readable site – have a look.

Incidentally, Edward George Bulwer-Lytton was the original perpetrator of "It was a dark and stormy night...", in 1830.

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