Tragedy and comedy in perfect proportion.
Kim and Flow are the best of friends, living on a council estate, making money selling drugs.
Just around the corner in a smarter part of Fulham is Clea, a well-heeled young woman coping with a violent home life at the hands of her twisted step-father.
The Principal runs a famous college for problem teens. Fostering guilty secrets which distance her from her own children, she resists the advances of a man she sees on the train every day.
When Kim and Clea meet by chance, Kim is smitten but worried about her. Using the anecdote of the frog theory – that it will jump straight out of boiling water and live, but stay in and die if heated slowly from cold – he wakes her up to the dangerous situation she’s in at home.
Serendipity and a cake-fuelled food fight that goes viral will bring Kim, Clea, Flow and The Principal together in weird and wonderful ways in this frenetic, laugh-out-loud story about love, conscience and lion-hearted nerve.
This book sounds so different to any other book I’ve ever read and I’m so fortunate to have a cheeky excerpt from the novel to share with you all, Enjoy!
Excerpt from The Frog Theory
Kim reluctantly takes Clea to smoke dope at a friend’s house and Paula is not pleased. (She is still know as Clate at this point)
‘What’s your sort doing with the likes of us?’ Paula asked Clate as soon as she returned. ‘Shouldn’t you be haw hawing outside the White Horse with the rest of them?’
‘Leave it,’ said Ryan, ‘she isn’t doing you any harm.’ He’d noticed the legs on her and wouldn’t mind a bit if Kim wasn’t interested. He recognised her now from the party.
‘Yeah, well, her accent gets right on my tits,’ snapped Paula, taking the joint from Ryan so that bypassed Clate this time.
‘Look here,’ said Clate, ‘I don’t’ appreciate your rudeness very much.’ Paula picked up a plant and prepare to chuck it, dropping the joint on the floor in the process.
‘Oy, oy, oy!’ said Ryan, plucking the plant from her hands and retrieving the joint. ‘What do you think you’re playing at? Have some respect for my house.’
‘You’re fucking asking for it,’ said Paula, pointing at Clate, her blue eyes icy.
Clate opened her mouth to reply.
‘Don’t you know when to leave it?’ interrupted Kim, not wishing to see Clate plastered around the walls.
‘I just don’t understand why she’s got such a problem with me,’ said clate.
‘You’re a snob,’ said Paula, ‘never done a hard day’s work in your life!’
‘You don’t know that,’ said Clate.
‘I know enough. coming round ‘ere, leaving your coat on – ‘fraid you might catch summink?’
‘A bigoted attitude, maybe,’ said Clate, getting up to leave.
Walking around in the cold for a couple of hours was preferable to this. Paula blocked her way.
‘Wo do you think you are?’ Paula said, pushing her back into the room.
Before Kim or Ryan had a chance to intervene Clate swiped her leg around Paula’s legs and pushed her shoulders. Thwack! Paula was on the floor and Clate soon had her in a body lock.
‘You’re fucking dead!’ choked Paula.
‘Looks like it,’ said Clate. ‘I can get this grief at home, I don’t need it from you!’ With that, she released her hold and Paula sprang to her feet, breathing heavily, jumping from foot to foot like a fiery little bull.
For a moment, Clate’s eyes met Kim’s and she detected a spark of amusement. She resisted the urge to smile and left….