Mr. Dirty

I partly read this because of the other brilliant review criticising the British language. On top of the misunderstanding of Britain (St Albans is posh and rich not poor and rundown and no one, literally no one over the age of 12 says “well fit”), this book is just mind numbingly boring. Nothing happens. Also the male love interest has slept with what appears to be around a woman a night for at least a year (maybe for 5+ years). His body count is revolting and I couldn’t get into the story after that. Anyone who can sleep with a different person a night for that long has issues there and should go talk to someone.

The plot line was compelling, I felt a connection to both of the main characters straight away. But a real let down for me was the use of absolutely idiotic British clichés. As someone who is born and bred in England, it tore at me to see the word ‘buggar’ overused and calling Americans ‘Yanks’..no, we just call them Americans. And the most unforgivable thing of all...calling football ‘soccer’!! No English person in their right mind would ever call it that, either out loud, or in their heads!! Whenever I would get into the story and could feel my imagination taking over, there would be one small word that would make me cringe, and to be honest, it took a lot of the enjoyment out of this book. So my advice would be, if you’re British, you’ve been fairly warned, if you’re not, then please just be mindful that we aren’t as ‘toodle pip’ and ‘cheerio’ as films like Notting Hill make us out to be.