John Lennon - Publishing His Writings Makes Beatle Larger Than Life.

Lennon, lead singer of the pop band 'the Beatles', published his first novel yesterday.

The Beatle's foray into the world of writing was met with a mixed reaction of raised eyebrows from more discerning adults and the hardly unexpected shrieks of fangirls on the loose.

Lennon, in a press conference the day before, stated that he wished to be seen as more than a 'teen heartthrob' or 'rock star'. It is understood that this volume of highly indulgent ramblings is to be followed by more - a move that will surely bankrupt the hordes of teenage girls who devoutly purchase all the offerings of their idols.

As one of the first to lay my hands on Lennon's book, I was left suitably unimpressed by his narrative skills. Yet I must say that though his powers of writing might lack a certain professionalism, he more than makes up for this by his writer's physique.

Pointed out by none other than fellow Beatle Paul McCartney, Lennon's usually trim figure - drooled over by countless teenaged girls - has undergone a change of late. If this is his attempt to lose his 'heartthrob' title, he is certainly going about it the right way.

Oh John, having the buttons of your shirt pop off is never a good idea, especially if your stomach is larger than the stack of books in front of you.

I think that, rather than embarking on a book signing, our big star ought to embark on a journey to the gym - especially as his new pudge raises concern amongst his fans:

"Well, I am rather concerned about John's newfound fatness - he might need to get more exercise. I don't want him to end up getting diabetes or a heart attack from eating so much." one young lady said.

"He's not as hot as he was before." her friend piped up. "All that weight really did it for me. John needs to go on a diet if he wants to reclaim his title as the hottest member of the group."

The words blurred before John's eyes. He blinked, only to realise that his vision was being obscured by tears. The harsh jibes uttered by childhood bullies came back to haunt him. Fatty, fatty - short and dumpy! Cradling his head in his hands, trying to block out the chants echoing in his skull, he slipped into a memory of the previous night...

That evening had started off as normal; John was signing copies of his new book to fans while the other three Beatles stood next to him and answered questions about his book. George and Ringo were happy to see their bandmate having a ball with the fans, but Paul was less than amused.

Beneath his facade of unflappable good humour, Paul was seething. Used to being the centre of attention - he now felt a surge of jealousy, the likes of which he had never felt before.

Those fans are all gathering around John like he's some heartthrob. I'm supposed to be the cute Beatle!

"Hey John - looks like lots of fans love your book!" George exclaimed, patting John on the shoulder.

Taking his cue from George, the usually quiet Beatle, Ringo was unrestrained in his praise, "Oh - I think John's book is fantastic. The best book I've read in a long time."

There was a brief period of silence until Paul realised that it was his turn to speak. "Huh? Oh yeah - it's a good book. A nice book. Better than the first one - yes." he stuttered.

John smiled at his co-lyricist's words of praise, though something about the other Beatle's manner struck him as odd.

Paul has been very quiet lately, John thought. He's kept to himself ever since I told my mates  that I'll be starting a new book. He's not jealous, is he? He did write that one song himself - Scrambled Eggs I think it was called...

Just then, one of the reporters, a bored look on his face, swung round to Paul, whose own face bore barely veiled discontent. "So, Paul," he began, "what do you think of John's new career move?"

Paul, eyes hardening for a split second, tried to imitate a spirited laugh. "Oh, I think his dedication shows on his figure, don't you?"

This remark shocked John but he didn't think much of it, thinking that Paul was just kidding around like always, but he had always felt uncomfortable about his weight - any snide remarks could really hurt him.

"Well, he has gained a bit of pudge," one of the reporters commented, "too much sitting around and eating sweets, I bet. So, John, do you think girls will still think of you as a heartthrob with this, er, weight?"

Pudge! Feeling rather stung, but determined not to show it, John cracked a smile. "Well, if the amount of girls hanging about the lobby of our hotel is anything to go by I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for them to drop me if I were you."

"That's true," the reporter admitted, and, trying to crack a joke, he said, "I'm sure you'd be able to hug multiple fans like this now. But anyway - this new book of yours is rather different to the first one..."

As the reporter babbled on, John tried not to let the remarks about his newfound weight bug him too much. It would hardly have bothered him if his fellow bandmate had not done something utterly extraordinary in response to a question.

Paul, in a show of unexpected dexterity, managed to seize the hem of John's shirt and hoist it up. "Never trust an author's ability until you know they've got the right build." Nodding at John's pudge, he said, "That right there, gentlemen, can attest to John's skill."

Dry laughter began in the audience; John felt his cheeks grow red.

Unable to take in any more of the laughter and snide remarks from the crowd, John dashed off and tried to get as far away from anyone as possible.

"Paul? Did you really have to do that?" George asked his older friend.

"Come on - it was only a joke. I'm sure John will get over it once he comes back." Paul replied.

"Well," said George, in a sharper voice than usual, "It's getting harder and harder to tell if you're joking or you've got some secret agenda going on."

Paul's brows furrowed and he made noises of protest.

The reporters looked on with rapt attention. It was as if each and every one of them were tingling with the anticipation of a scandalous story.

"I think it's time to call it a day." Brian announced. "George, do you mind looking for John?"

"Sure, Brian - I'm on my way." Getting up from his seat, he went around the building in search of his older friend. Upon nearing the gent's bathroom, he heard the sound of small sniffles coming from inside.

He rapped tentatively on the bathroom door. "John? You in there, mate?"

The sniffs ceased for a brief moment. "Go away."

"I can't - not when you're in there, hurting."

"Just go, okay?! I don't want anyone to be here right now." John snapped.

Poor Johnny...all those nasty remarks must have really hurt him.

Coming back into the hall, he headed towards the buffet table set out for the event. As he did so, George got an idea. John won't be considered fat if there's someone fatter than him.

Picking up a few biscuits, George stuffed them into his mouth. Then he went towards some chips and dips, scarfing them down as well. Soon, almost half of the table was empty of food.

"Oof...I think I'm getting too full now..." Looking down, George saw a small bulge on his belly from being filled with tons of food. "I'll weigh myself tomorrow."

He felt a small glow of pride in having devised a plan to make John feel better.

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