A first from Australian author Rushby.
Almost all men are bastards. And a lot of them are on the bastard list that Gemma and Sarah have been keeping since their art-school days. Back then, with five good-looking young women sharing a house, it seemed to be raining men, resulting in lots of yearning, bed-swapping, dumping, and weeping—that’s how the list got started. It boasted big bastards and small bastards, fat bastards and thin bastards, white and black and pink and purple bastards. The list is so old it’s yellowed and so long the fridge magnets won’t hold it up anymore. After an evening of steady drinking (the only other thing these one-dimensional characters do a lot of besides complain), Gem and Sarah decide it would be a hoot to start a new list just like it on a Web site (www.allmenarebastards.com, of course) and invite contributions from all comers. Not surprisingly, they get thousands of hits from all over the world and not a few indignant responses from the bastards themselves. Famous in her small way, Gemma appears on TV. The Web site traffic increases. Charge for space on it? Why not? Gemma can now hire something she’s always wanted: a Personal Assistant. A male Personal Assistant, thank you. Chris is capable, adorable, and on top of everything. How gratifying that she can take him to her ex’s wedding as a dream date. She’d hate to show up alone to smile bravely at the biggest bastard of all. What to wear? Oh, hell, a shroud would be perfect. But Chris comes to the rescue and even saves her hair with a few deft swipes of a brush and a couple of cans of hairspray. He confesses: three sisters meant he had to figure out a way to get into the bathroom, and hairdressing was it. Miracle of miracles, he’s not gay. Hmm. Things are looking up.
Crisp writing makes the most of a slight (and rather dated) premise.