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Former Raymonde and RPLA front-man James Maker’s much-anticipated autobiography ‘Autofellatio’ is finally published – on Kindle. I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating: it’s extravagantly funny and well-written.  Glitteringly epigrammatic, it’s a rock-and-roll Naked Civil Servant in court shoes.

And I’m not just saying that because in the chapter about his life-long friendship with the singer Morrissey, titled ‘Gide the Ripper’, he praises Saint Morrissey as the ‘the most incisive biography’ of Moz.  This was an especially kind thing to say since ‘Gide the Ripper’ even in its brevity is a much better biography than Saint Morrissey.

Oh, and in case you think that I might have done something as vulgar as some actual research for St Moz – such as talking to people who know him – let me reassure you that James and I didn’t meet or communicate until after he’d bought and read my ‘psycho-bio’.  And then we found we couldn’t stop talking.

No one will believe it, but we hardly discuss ‘M’ at all.  Though if you read James’ memoir of his idiosyncratic life you’ll realise there’s plenty of other eccentric subjects to talk about.

3:AM Press and James Maker have parted ways. From James’ blog:

Due to unforeseen events at 3:AM Press which are not connected directly to either my book or to me, we have decided to annul the contract in an expeditious and amicable fashion.

Therefore, I have decided to serialise some chapters of the book, at this dedicated blog, while I look for an alternative publisher. Enjoy.

It’s a crime of global proportions that a book as funny and sharply written as this should be currently without a publisher. But then we’re living in an age of global crimes a-go-go — and the printed word is looking a bit… fucked. Frankly.

All James’ posted chapters from Autofellatio are shockingly well-written and criminally funny, but because of its content the one titled ‘Morrissey: Gide the Ripper’, a taster of which appeared on marksimpson.com last year, is probably going to generate the most attention, offering as it does inside insight like this:

I feel that Morrissey has achieved the impossible. It is the straightforward that eludes him. He had to become famous because although he is a savant in the auditorium, he is a dead loss in a launderette.

And anecdotes like this:

It was at Morrissey’s Cadogan Square apartments in London’s Chelsea that I met Sandie Shaw when she was enjoying a return to the stage and to television performing Morrissey and Marr compositions. I have always thought of Sandie Shaw as the ‘Nico of Dagenham’ and, to this day, I still feel a pleasurable shiver at Long Walk Home, released in 1967. With the mild success of Hand In Glove and Please Help The Cause Against Loneliness she was naturally keen to consolidate her comeback. So keen, in fact, that she contrived to enter his apartment building, without a key, and proceeded to ring the doorbell. She is an Essex girl and there is nothing like the direct approach.

But with Morrissey, the direct approach or the approach without charm, rarely works. One must learn to play canasta. We were in the sitting room listening to the musical score of her doorbell chiming when we decided to move across the hallway to the adjacent kitchen for some much-needed refreshment. Adopting the ‘Leopard Crawl’, a military manouevre designed to advance oneself with the smallest silhouette possible, the body close to the ground, we chanced our luck and stealthily crept towards the kettle. Halfway across the hallway, the letterbox flapped open.

“I can see you. Open up.”

The printed word may be in a bad way, but I think it’s just a matter of time before Autofellatio finds its way onto vellum.

For the record, I didn’t meet James until after Saint Morrissey was published. So, as I maintained at the time, everything in that outrageously unprofessional biography — or, as I dubbed it, ‘psycho-bio’ –was sheer guess-work and none of it was based on anything so sensible as speaking to people who actually knew him. Nor of course, speaking to Morrissey himself, whom I’ve never met. But I have spent most of my life listening to him.

I still haven’t met my subject, thankfully. Although there was a dicey moment when I travelled to Manchester’s Move Festival in 2004 in James’ Winnebago (he and Noko 440 were supporting Morrissey). I heard M was popping in to say hello to James so I went for a walk and admired The Ordinary Boys’ tight jeans on the?main stage for a while. Cowardly? Possibly. But definitely tactful. How embarrassing it would have been for the both of us to actually meet.

After all we’ve been through together.

…and it’s rather good.  Shapely and very pointed.

Looking forwards to his cheeky memoir Autofellatio, published by 3:AM next year – so much so I’ve put my back out.

Marksimpson.com is delighted to offer you an exclusive peek at ’1976′, a chapter from James Maker’s forthcoming eye-wateringly agile memoir ‘Autofellatio’, revealing for the very first time how the punk summer of 1976 really began: with his suspension from grammar school for impersonating his mother…. (Jon Savage eat your heart out.)

‘Now exposed as an architect of tissue-thin deceit, I squirmed on a Jacobean ébéniste as Dr Friskney began to recite my letters to Mr Potter.

“Dear Mr. Potter
Unfortunately, James is unable to attend school for one week because he has been diagnosed by the doctor as suffering from advanced impetigo of the lower lip which, as you may be aware, is highly contagious.”

Mrs Maker.”

“Dear Mr. Potter

James’ impetigo has now rapidly spread to the upper lip and its immediate environs. The medicated cream is being applied thrice daily but, at this time, we feel it inadvisable to allow him to return to school for at least another week. We are concerned for his nose.

Mrs Maker.”

My mother asked, “What does ‘environs’ mean?” Unwisely, I laughed. Three pairs of eyes shot up and drilled me with stony censure.’

You can read the hilarious chapter in full here.

James Maker, former lead singer with cult 80s Indie band Raymonde and 90s drag metal sensation RPLA, and one of Morrissey’s longest-serving friends, is writing a memoir.

And what a memoir. It has one of the best, and unquestionably the most honest title for an autobiography ever: ‘Autofellatio’.

Maker recently posted a very short excerpt from it, recounting his first meeting with Morrissey in 1977, titled ‘Gide the Ripper’, on his MySpace webpage. Inevitably, despite the profile being set to ‘Private’ and only having two and a half authorised friends, the excerpt ended up on a Morrissey fansite in less time than it takes to read most Morrissey song titles.

Now that the excerpt is ‘out there’ Maker’s given permission for it to be posted it on marksimpson.com. As you can see, Maker’s prose more than lives up to the promise of his memoir’s title.

I’ve been given a peek at several chapters, and can report that this is one of the funniest, sharpest pieces of writing I’ve come across: a veritable comedy of aphorisms. A very English rock and roll memoir, with nary a wasted or ill-chosen word: Ronald Firbank meets the New York Dolls, has a sweet sherry or three and causes a scene on the night bus home. In court shoes.

But when will it be published? James says that he’s ‘broken the back’ of his Autofellatio, but wants to be entirely happy with his technique before showing it to agents….

Here’s Mr Maker in 1994 performing RPLA’s court shoe-tapping stonker ‘Absolute Queen of Pop’ (and no, it’s not about Guy Ritchie’s husband), kindly affording us a look at his agile tonsils:

And here, in Raymonde in 1988, in a nice fur hat and lippy belting out the irresistible and ineluctable ‘Destination: Breakdown’: