|How To Be A Super Bitch Lawyer|
Chiswick author Anna Corsellis' debut novel is a dark, farcical legal tale
‘How to be a Super Bitch Lawyer’ is a dark, farcical tale written by debut novelist Anna Corsellis concerning lawyers at the antiquated firm of Meade, Pullen and Co who are all secretly yearning for promotion to partnership level but each has a very different idea as to how this may be achieved.
Felicity Garrett attempts to follow the obvious route to partnership by working hard and making a great deal of money for the firm regardless of whom she tramples upon in her quest; meek and lovely Sarah has to spend many a night out with the firm’s clients, thus leaving her boyfriend free to embark on an affair with her beautiful sister; and John will do anything to gain partnership to avoid the wrath of his testosterone-fuelled wife.
Meanwhile, Roger, the senior partner, aware that the firm is in a chaotic financial position, has to forge a secret deal with the firm’s benefactor to keep the firm afloat. Also amidst this dilemma, Roger has to deal with a tight-fisted managing partner, an obscure employment department and a six-fingered practice manager.
And who is the real Super Bitch?
A taste of How To Be A Super Bitch Lawyer...
Felicity had thought that it would be an easy task, but, oh, no! Three hours she had spent in Mrs P’s boudoir wrestling with her conscience and occasionally with a selection of the larger pairs of pants. Some garments were so glaringly sadomasochistic that they bordered on the illegal; how would she explain her involvement with such an institution as the Peters’ Sunday night fiasco was fast becoming to The Law Society?
What she was doing was bordering on handling dangerous goods: coloured plastic toys so bright and enticing that, at first glance, might appear to be more suited to a child’s toy box were stuffed into each and every corner of this rampant middle-aged woman’s bedroom suite. In fact, thinking back, it had been seriously difficult for Felicity to identify the objects in the darkened room as willies of every colour, shape and size hung from the lampshades, knobs flickering on and off.
Felicity was unsure why she had had to do undertake this task. She had assumed that her role that day would be to bring cups of tea to a disturbed possible future mother-in-law, unfairly accused of exposing herself to a young male. (That’s justice for you, she thought.)
January 4, 2011