The Nobel Prize

Displaying an all too obvious insouciance, my agent, Andrew Lownie, casually mentioned that the judges for the Nobel committee have still not selected the winner for this year’s literature prize. Had I known in advance that he was planning to submit my latest book Recollections of a Racketeer to the committee, I would have stopped him. Unfortunately I was not aware of his plans until his all too casual mention of the judges’ difficulty in selecting a winner.
“Why don’t you want the Nobel prize?” he asked me.
“Well, for a start it could mess-up my nomination for the US Supreme Court” I retorted tartly. “I don’t know of any Justices who have Nobel prizes. Foreign awards are always treated with suspicion in Washington.”
Andrew rolled his eyes as he always does when we have this conversation. “You’re not even American” he said. “They won’t let you on the Supreme Court.” He’s always so negative; no wonder I’m not selling more books.
“If I get the Nobel prize” I explained patiently, “that will be the end of my literary career. Nobody reads Nobel prize winners; they’re all a bunch of obscure Latvian poets or left-wing whiners.”
“There is a large cash amount as well as the medal” Andrew said.
“There is?” I said, surprised. “How much?”
“Ten million” he said.
“What, pounds?” I asked.
“Kroner” he said.
“Kroner! What’s a bloody kroner? You probably need a million of those just to buy a cup of coffee.”
“You also get to meet Miss Sweden” he added.
“You mean Fröken Sverige, that tall blond girl with enormous eyes?”
“Exactly” Andrew said. “And you also get a lifetime’s supply of Absolut vodka.”
“So” I said. “How do we reach the judges?”