Customer Reviews

10 reviews

• Martyn Blake

  This book is a repugnant, ghastly mess of linguistic slosh. I violently erupted meaty, burning bile whilst reading through these 'weird' tales. Lee is a terrible author.

• Jacob James Gibson

  I decided to try out the oldest soak on a whim, as a dare by a friend. It turned out to be the greatest adventure of my life. Lee's Shorts clear linguistic mastery castrates the notion that the soak, itself, is very old... perhaps, one could argue, even the oldest. I honestly loved this beautiful journey of grammatical and creative architecture. Lee's Shorts is a mastermind, a vessel of beautiful creativity, that I wish could spill over me in an excruciating, awesome wave. I wish Lee's Shorts could lift me up like a new-born baby, allowing me to be born aloft, like a feather, ready to take on the world with him as my Father. I love you, Lee, thank you for this.

• Joshua 'Blimp' Heggerington

  The Oldest Soak is the newest entry in Lee Short's Shorts short (lol) and rather disastrous career. There is a clear, distinct difference between the lexis chosen to incorporate in descriptive scenes as compared to speech, and I've only read the sample (which was hard enough). Reading the novel turned my formerly solid stools into a thin and unpleasant gravy. This quote from the book perfectly sums up my feelings: "Mikie, what the fuck are you talking about?" The book is an ill, rancid mess, but is beautiful and quite erotic in some descriptions at some scenes. I often found myself reminiscing about my 7 failed marriages whilst reading about big Jim (my husbands were also of the large persuasion). Whilst reading i was certain the book was a 1-star disaster. But, after, in the wake of my gravy, I have learned better. The Oldest Soggy is a masterpiece. I would recommend anyone reading to live alone to better immerse themself in the abject solitude required to envision such a stew of cerebral nightmares. Orgasmic.

• Lee Short

  High above the cold, mulberry waves of the North Sea, I secluded in my windy folly, far from the prying eyes of the general public and their I interfering ways. Being blessed of considerable financial stature, I was able to pursue the life of a recluse, such as my dark past had sadly dictated. As each desolate morning shone its unwelcome beam through my windows, ushering in another day filled with untapped potential and opportunity for glory, so did my face wrinkle and my spine bow under the unbearable burden of guilt that had settled on my bony shoulders. So great was my single crime that its lament had driven me insane, the black tumour of anticipated penance chomping away at my limited vitality until what remained was an imitation of man. The crooked, wounded figure that limped daily from room to room to
  sustain its miserable existence held a zest comparable to that of the rotten sea lion carcass that bounced upon the frothy waves, butting against the rocks on the day I threw Scott’s accursed pink kidney from my kitchen window. Wholly undeserving of the sinister twist of fate that befell him, was Scott. A gentle, smiling ox of a man, he’d ne’er a salty word for anyone. With colossal beef shoulders and a huge red beard as though all of autumn had clustered about 3 his chin, he projected a formidable persona, yet his tiny eyes betrayed a glad soul that would share his last bean with no consideration of reward or recompense. So what drove me to such dismal lunacy as to conspire to remove his kidney? Across the weeks and months since that deeply regretful and irrevocable evening that very question has tormented me like an awful rat, nibbling at the ragged shreds of my sanity with infected mandibles. In all honesty, that night I was possessed of an unusually overwhelming compulsion, during which my gluttonous yearning for scientific excellence held dominance over all my ethics and principles. The covert and unlawful procurement of one of Scott’s kidneys was simply an experiment to clarify whether it could be done, and results were partially successful. For years an aspiring human biologist, I won’t deny I considered the eccentric image of a renegade surgeon to be medicine’s answer to rock and roll stardom, and studied fastidiously, far beyond the capabilities of my fellow medics. Much to the chagrin of my industriously handicapped tutors, I persisted in attempting to facilitate a mode of experience within the current curriculum, which I found to be most tedious and drawn-out affair. Despite my avaricious efforts, the scholastic body remained defiant in the face of my enthusiasm, and so my learnings were incurred at a snail’s pace. Astonishing that even in this modern age, individual excellence was discouraged in favour of a tightly
  controllable, uniform collective.
  

• Martain Blank

  Vibin' in the ocean, off the purple potion. The only words my lips would dareth quiver to speak as I kneeled, bewildered, before my God, Mr Lee Short. The Ancient Moist is a masterpiece.

• Martyr Blanc

  The Oldest Soak is the first entry in Lee Shorts potentially long and illustrious career, and is an imperfect masterpiece. Whilst reading this stew of cerebral nightmares, I was faced with what can only have been described as gibberish; an ill-advised excuse to incorporate such a strange and complex amount of lexis to pass off as a ‘weird tale’. Reading this for the first time, I was sure Lee had open a dictionary and was comically writing down every word he saw that would benefit an unsatisfactory response. I mean, in the very first sentence alone, Lee fails to incorporate correct grammar, ‘I interfering ways’- are you kidding me Lee? But, after a while, I began to have visions, cerebral nightmares if you will; nightmares which turned my formerly solid stools into a thin and unpleasant gravy. I began to see these weird tales as the cerebral nightmares Lee envisioned in his abject solitude- I was transfixed! Although it’s clear Lee can’t formulate a sentence that actually makes sense to save his life, I’m sure the oldest soak is a misunderstood masterpiece, and I can’t wait to read the next instalment.

• Becca Sams

  Very good.

• Dr Craig A Sams

  Yeah, it’s alright I guess!

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