Julian writes: Kevin Coyne. Are We Dreaming?

It’s 10pm in the NOP Office and Paul has vey kindly stayed back to help me craft the perfect song to woo the perfect woman.

“Rule one,” he asserts. He can be quite assertive when he puts his mind to it, can Paul I thought. “Kevin Coyne never sang pretty. He growled, he cracked, he groaned. His songs were the sound of a man trying to wring meaning out of a damp Tuesday in Derby.”

“I can groan!” I’m cheered up already.

“Not theatrically!” he’s now insistent. “Authentically.”

“And the difference is…?” I’m already feeling out of my depth.

“One is pain. The other is you. Rule two: Coyne wrote about people, not abstractions. No metaphors about “brand ecosystems” or “emotional synergy.”

“Right. No synergy. No ecosystems.” I cross them out of my notebook discreetly.

“And rule three: Deep down, Kevin Coyne was tender. A bruised tenderness.
Not your usual “Federer of Feelings” theatrics.

I nod solemnly. “I can bruise tenderly if I have to.”

“God help us.” Paul starts pacing the floor, looking this way and that, on the search for something, I’m not quite sure what.

“Cigar?” I proffer. He looks at me in a strangulated kind of way and looks to the ceiling.

Want to know why Maja is so struck by the work of Kevin Coyne? Just take a look here!

Julian writes: Kevin Coyne. My Saviour.

It’s the NOP Office, late Monday afternoon. Paul is sketching brooding human forms as per. Somewhere, the kettle moos. I feel I have no other option than to strike a conversation with Paul, who may inadvertently provide me with the key to Maja’s heart.

“Paul? Paul? Have you got a moment? It’s a matter of… emotional urgency.” I begin, not wishing to impose myself too much.

Paul doesn’t look up but mutters,”Nothing good ever begins with those words.”

I plough on regardless.

“You know Kevin Coyne, right? Derby College of Art? Emotional rawness? Husky transcendence? Singing like a man wrestling poetry out of the working class Midlands?

Paul looked up slowly.

“Julian… I knew Kevin Coyne. I didn’t just know the music — I knew the man.
We once drew the same life model and both of us cried afterwards.”

“Exactly! That’s the energy I need.” I think I’m winning him around.

Paul puts pencil his down.

“Why?”

“Because Maja has taken a liking to him. And I,” I place my hand on my chest, perhaps overly dramatically but I thought it was worth a go. “I must meet her where she musically lives.”

“So you want to write a Kevin Coyne song? You? Julian… Kevin wrote about pain. About brokenness. About people who’ve stared too long at the cigarette end of life. You go home and steam your face with eucalyptus.

“But I can channel pain!” I protested. “I’ve known heartbreak… I’m knowing heartbreak right now! Just last week Maja ignored my Spotify playlist suggestions.”

“That’s not heartbreak. That’s mercy.”

“But you must help me, Paul, please! You went to art college with him! You understand the soul of Kevin Coyne! Teach me to sound rugged and emotionally unavailable!”

He sighed.

“Julian… you are neither rugged nor emotionally unavailable. You are…a labrador in a polo shirt.

“But a labrador… with a guitar?”

He sighed reluctantly.

“Fine. If it’ll stop you hovering like a narrative mosquito… I’ll help.

Success! At last! With Kevin by my side – albeit in the shape of a proxy Paul – where could I go wrong?

Want to know why Maja is so struck by the work of Kevin Coyne? Just take a look here!

Kevin Coyne plays ‘Mad Boy’ for Confessions of an Ageing Tennis Player

When Paul Warren, the Confessions illustrator and I first met, we soon realised we were both fans of the Derby born musician, Kevin Coyne. I had seen Kevin several times, and Paul was lucky enough to be one of his best friends and study with him at the Derby College of Art.

We both thought it would be terrific if Kevin’s role in our lives could be acknowledged in the Confessions… book and so were delighted when Helmi, Kevin’s wife, allowed us to use of Kevin’s song, Mad Boy, as the accompanying song for Confessions of an Ageing Tennis Player. If you’re listening up there, Kevin, we hope we’ve done you proud.

Maja writes… I’m a Serb, get me outta here!

He found me on the stairs. I was eating quietly. He told me stories about Helvetica and some tennis club. I said he talks too much. He looked wounded. I almost felt bad, but then he started explaining fonts again. Maybe English people are lonely in offices. In Serbia, we just drink coffee and ignore each other. Easier.

Booker Prize Disappointment: we woz robbed!

 

From: Nick Owen (Publisher)
To: All Staff
Time: 09:00

Subject: URGENT — Booker Debrief

Team,

Firstly, thank you for your passion and belief in ‘The Courting Lives of an Ageing Tennis Player’. While we didn’t technically win the Booker Prize, I’d argue we achieved something more valuable: visibility.

However, the Board (and my mother) would appreciate a brief internal reflection on how we might have positioned the book more ‘strategically’ next year. Please keep responses constructive and under 400 words.

Nick

From: Julian Pilkington‑Sterne (Marketing)
To: Nick, cc: All Staff
Time: 09:14

Subject: Re: Booker Debrief

Nick,

Firstly, what a night! The Guardian called the winner ‘genre‑defying’; I call ours ‘genre‑defining’. That’s a win in my book.

Possible factors influencing outcome:
1. Booker judges may not fully appreciate meta‑tennis allegory.
2. Our pre‑launch campaign (‘Love Means Nothing’) perhaps misread as nihilistic.
3. The ‘foam finger’ limited edition lacked gravitas.

Moving forward, we need experiential marketing. Picture it: a floating tennis court on the Serpentine. Guests rally while reading. We call it ‘The Serve of Consciousness.’

Yours in literature and lobs,
Julian

From: Eleanor Wheeler (Senior Editor)
To: Nick, Alex
Time: 09:46

Subject: Re: Booker Debrief

Nick,

Three reasons we didn’t win:
1. The judges read the book.
2. Julian designed the press pack in Comic Sans.
3. Our author thanked ‘the entire ATP’ in his acknowledgements.

Recommend next year’s submission be edited before, not after, longlisting.

E.

From: Paul Warren (Illustrator)
To: Eleanor (cc: Self)
Time: 10:02

Subject: Subject: Visual Post‑Mortem

Eleanor,

I’ve sketched ‘The Booker We Didn’t Win.’ It’s an empty lectern surrounded by hopeful stationery.
Would make a strong Christmas card.

Paul

From: Alex Moore (Operations)
To: Nick, Eleanor, Julian
Time: 11:08

Subject: Re: Booker Debrief

Colleagues,

While the Booker remains outside our operational remit, I note that last year’s submission budget (£3,500) was largely consumed by ‘Julian’s Concept Garlands.’

Next year we might consider:
– Allocating funds to postage rather than petals.
– Verifying eligibility dates before printing 500 bookmarks.
– Avoiding phrases like ‘The Djokovic of Fiction.’

Regards,
Alex

From: Clare Thompson (Reception)
To: All Staff
Time: 11:22

Subject: Re: Booker Debrief

Morning all,

A man in sunglasses dropped off a single tennis ball this morning with the note: ‘He deserved it more.’ It’s in the display case next to last year’s ‘regional commendation.’

If anyone wants tea, I’ve upgraded to Earl Grey. We’re clearly a grey‑area publisher now.

C.

From: Julian Pilkington‑Sterne (Marketing)
To: All Staff
Time: 12:03

Subject: Re: Booker Debrief

Just a thought: shall we release a Director’s Cut of the book? Slightly longer, same plot, heavier font?
I’m calling it ‘Confessions+’.

Julian

From: Eleanor Wheeler (Senior Editor)
To: Julian
Time: 12:05

Subject: Re: Confessions+

No.

E.

From: Nick Owen (Publisher)
To: All Staff
Time: 16:10

Subject: Re: Booker Debrief — Next Steps

Team,

Excellent reflections. Thank you. I propose a follow‑up session titled ‘Booker 2026: Beyond Failure.’ Julian will lead a motivational icebreaker (‘Second Serve Strategy’), and Paul will unveil his ‘Lamentation Sketches.’

Please bring ideas and biscuits.

Nick

From: Clare Thompson (Reception)
To: Alex Moore
Time: 18:45

Subject: Private: Diary Clash

Alex,

They’ve booked the same date as the Arts Council audit. I’m not saying divine intervention, but the diary just saved us all.