So. My book... It's a bit mental really...but so is Alice in Wonderland 
SOME QUOTES
"What have you got in there you little bastard?"
"You little prick. It's a whelk...it's a...it's a...dead whelk!"
"Run. Flee. F**k off. Vanish from my presence and take the foul stench of your sordid secret with you."
"The Macedonian Endeavour Channel was screening live coverage of the world series of the Who's Got the Stupidest Name (WGSN) competition. First prize had already gone to Brian Burdock, a French Algerian with a penchant for Longchamp."
"Eunice had deposited St John upon the balcony of the first-floor apartment of former Liberal MP, The Rt. Hon. Leonard Cossins, the disgraced Lord Mayor of Mitchell-Baines who had been removed from office having been caught administering counterfeit buttercup syrup to the local yeomanry whilst on a hunting trip to Stoke-Poges."
"St John had always been a fan of the RS Turbo, mainly due to the colour coded rear spoiler and air vents in the bonnet, which distinguished it from the more common and less powerful XR3i."
"There was Arctic John, a businessman from Salisbury who doesn't hold water, Bruce Knott, a social worker from Cumberland who spends his lunch hour picking his bum, and Judith Glycerine, the reformation pig."
"Had the facial plumage been of a paler hue it would have looked like a pile of horse crap on a winter's day."
"Oh yeah, well I suddenly realises that she'd only been with my boyfriend at the Co-op Christmas do when I were eighteen. So I grabs her head and I stuck it through a display of them Muller's rices and I told her. That's for shagging Kevin Cooper you stupid f**king c**t."
"This particular event had been somewhat more raucous than usual as Derek Jameson had just lost an arm wrestle with Ann Diamond. The match was the second semi-final of the morning after Belinda Carlisle had been pipped at the post by Rusty Lee. Carlisle had caused some consternation after, upset at losing and forfeiting the chance to compete for the first prize of a quarter of midget gems, she had spat port in Lee's handbag. Carlisle had been asked to leave and, after a brief tussle, had been ejected from the building whilst screaming and spitting in Simon Parkin's face."
"Next door to the Bensons is Emmet Frag, a retired pacemaker who is credited with inventing the notion of happiness. He's currently working on a method for categorising ducks based on their singing voice. He's also the owner of the world's largest collection of tenor geese."
THE BLURB
St John Morris is an eccentric and possibly slightly mad seventeen year old. After bemusing and irritating his teachers by writing strange letters and stories instead of working, he is asked to leave his school and so begins writing as a form of therapy. However, his letters begin to mutate in to dark, surreal comic-fantasy in which the third and first person often become blurred. Soon St John the writer and St John the protagonist combine to beget a series of comic escapades set within a strange and aberrant world of non-sequiturs, anachronisms, and eccentric characters; Mr Baxter from Grange Hill, a round table death squad who try to devise increasingly outlandish ways for people to die and a pet lime called Ranjit.
Eventually, St John and the companions he acquires during his crazy meanderings find themselves aboard The Medina Star, an ocean liner which, due to an instrument fault, can take them anywhere they can imagine. Unfortunately, St John's imagination takes them to the boundaries of reality where they find themselves in a world inhabited by, among infinite others; Socrates and John Virgo in a burger bar discussing the nature of hatred, an out of work actor who dabbles in quantum physics and Franz Beckenbauer, living under a fishing lake.
St John Morris presents us with a profoundly dense and visceral vision of the world inside the unconscious mind. Lewis Carroll opened the doors, Aldous Huxley forced them open and now St John Morris pushes deeper into the comedy of madness.
THE BOOK
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18990613-the-bizarre-letters-of-st-john-morris