Who wins? You decide.

So. A while back I ran a competition, inspired by the folk on the Alright Tit Facebook page, in which I asked you to send in photos of unusual places in which you’ve been reading The C-Word. Naturally, if I had photographic evidence of my book in Dave Grohl’s ACTUAL hands, I'd have shut down this competition faster than you can say ‘restraining order’ but, lucky for you guys, that remains out of my grasp and so, instead, I’ve got 10 corking entries for you to choose between. So, without further ado, allow me to say a huge thank you to everyone who entered, and introduce you to the shortlist:

Flavia took her copy on holiday to Rome – and actually paid a person dressed as Minnie Mouse to pose with my tome near the Colosseum (because, obviously, mice in polka-dot dresses were all over Ancient Rome).

Carol took hers on a world tour when playing trombone for Seal, no less. I like to assume that Mr Seal required no monetary persuasion to be photographed with a copy of The C-Word (unless, of course, that champagne was the currency).

Jane, by her own admission, cheated a bit. But frankly, seeing my superimposed book in the hands of The World’s Greatest (If Not Most Comfortable) Shoe Designer instantly gets her off the hook.

Marjo took her book into the middle of a forest in Hyvinkää, Finland after failing to get her cat to pose with it. (Smart cat.) She casually dropped into her entry that she’s followed Alright Tit from the very beginning. Just sayin’.

Rose is mum to the adorable baby Gracie: a child genius who, I’m told, read The C-Word in a single afternoon. (Note to agent: get me on the National Curriculum, stat!)

David roped his kids into his photo entry. (Those aren’t his kids in the photo, by the way; they’re his kids’ gingerbread men.) And I’m lucky enough to have eaten them. (The gingerbread men; not the kids.)

Sally takes the gong for the photo of The C-Word taken furthest away from my filth-pit in south-west London, having snapped it in the hands of her little boy in North Queensland, Australia. Extra points awarded for keeping her copy pristine in a plastic bag.

Jodie took The C-Word on a holiday to Whitby with her mum Anne. ‘Some may say this is not an unusual place,’ she says, ‘but for us it was very special. If mum had not been diagnosed with cancer we would not have made the time for mother and daughter holidays.’ And you can’t say fairer than that.

Grainne recently packed up her copy (and, I’m assuming, a few other things) and moved to Canada where she promptly used her dulcet Irish tones to persuade the CN Tower to pose with The C-Word. Impressive.

Lori spent a happy afternoon in Amsterdam taking photos of beautiful baby Fletcher with not only a copy of The C-Word, but also its Dutch counterpart, Toffe Tiet. I’m especially encouraged by these shots, since if all else fails and my writing career goes belly-up, my unsold books may have a lucrative future as chew-toys.

But who wins? You decide.

You've got until the time it takes me to get out of hospital to place your vote (ie, until Monday 20 September), and the winner will receive a signed copy of The C-Word, its original uncorrected draft proof, a couple of other signed books and two – yes, two – Curly Wurlys. Come on, people: scroll to the bottom of this page, select your winner, and make somebody’s (questionable) dreams come true. 




UPDATE, 22 September:


The results are in... and it's congratulations to Jodie! A very worthy winner, I'm sure you'll agree. Jodie – expect a parcel from me the moment I can make it up to the post office. Well done you. And well done your mum! L.x