Publisher's Synopsis
BLINDED BY THE FAMOUS, THEY COULD NOT SEE THE WORLD CRUMBLING AROUNG THEM
In a prequel novel set ten years before the Collapse, Jeff Brady lives in a society where political correctness has devolved into a form of oppression. Controlling this society is a group of influential people who now wish to secretly change the nation's privacy laws. To achieve this goal they need a news story that will captivate the public, a story which will involve three beautiful reality show sisters, a boy band, an assassin, and a serial killer. And finally a brilliant scientist known as McDermott after performing many illegal experiments on the human brain has accidently bred a new branch of humans with incredible and dangerous powers.
"Old, am I?" Martin scoffed at his granddaughter, then realised he was as he was born in 1962. He wiped one hand over his bald head and continued on anyway. "Well . . . well . . . hmm-oh, yeah here it goes. I used to live in a world before the Nanny State. People of my generation used to have to use their brains, not have everything labeled for them like they had an IQ of twelve. We used to lose at things and be told that to win we needed to try harder next time, or that we were just simply not good enough at what we did and needed to try something else. We didn't cry about it and shake our fist at the world, saying how unfair it all was and wonder whether we could take them to court somehow for hurting our fragile egos. We took all of this on the chin, picked ourselves up, dusted ourselves off, and continued on our way and actually became tougher in the process to help prepare us for what life would inevitably throw at us, no matter how much you hid in your safe space or whatever lame-arsed leftie foofoo rubbish they call it nowadays. We weren't molly-coddled and wrapped in cotton wool all the time by our parents like you kids are today, being told you are simply the best at everything you say and do, like you are some sort of superhero or something, and that it wasn't your fault; that it was always someone else's fault that things didn't happen the way you wanted it to." Martin took another deep breath and continued. "We didn't look to be offended all the time either, and we could tell people honestly to their face that they were idiots, when they were being idiots, and not have to worry about what cultural or ethnic background they came from just in case we offended somebody who was drinking café-latte, discussing poetry whilst listening to jazz down at Salamanca Place. We used to-"
Martin suddenly realised his granddaughter had already walked inside to look at the computer. "Typical," he muttered, and then started to wait for his daughter, Susan, to come home so he could moan at her. "Typical," he muttered once more.
