Julian Fuck is a self-styled ‘author’ who currently lives in Wales, a country with which he has something of a mixed relationship, describing its people as inward-looking, drunken, nosey and lecherous. Actually, that’s not very mixed, is it? Something of a love-hate relationship, without the love. He does, however, describe them as ‘passionate’, which appears to be another way of saying drunken, nosey and lecherous.
His writing is, er, quite remarkable – which is why we have decided he deserves a tribute website to share his glorious prose with the world. Any man capable of not only writing but actually publishing the sentence ‘An eruption of anal gas helped him on his way’ deserves to be exposed to the mocking glare, er, we mean admiring applause of as many as possible of the ‘passionate’ people of Wales.
Unlike the real Julian, we welcome and will publish comments, loving and not-so-loving alike.
Julian was born in 1956 – and getting more wrinkly by the day, at least he’s certainly beating his wife so she keeps telling him! Yes, apparently he actually has a wife, and he beats her, which seems a little unfair. The poor woman is probably suffering enough as it is.
He was brought up in a comfortable middle class environment, although he’s not entirely sure what ‘middle class’ means these days; upper, lower, in between or just plain nowhere! His father, a solicitor, ran his own family practice while his mother remained at home to keep the house and offspring in good order.
Having obtained some ‘A’ levels, he went on to do a law degree and train as a lawyer in London, finally ending up at the College of Law in Lancaster Gate.
A not-particularly successful law student, he nevertheless completed his articles of clerkship and went on to do a short stint as a law lecturer. Unsuccessful at legal endeavour but an out and out genius at drinking and chasing after girls he eventually ended up travelling around Denmark and Israel in an attempt to ‘find himself’ and doing any particular job that came along.
He never did find himself (or his ‘roots’ come to that) but eventually discovered that he wasn’t bad at messing about with Legal Services Contracts in the Not For Profit Sector.
He did this for about eight years before concluding that the tedium of normality was not for him and that maybe he could turn the odd half decent sentence or two into a full blown novel. This explains why ‘Ragged Cliffs’ has got just the one good sentence in it.
And so here he is.