I’M WRITING THE GREATEST BOOK OF MEMOIRS IN THE WORLD*. AND IT’S ON PRE-SALE NOW. AND IT’S ON PRE-SALE NOW.
MY NAME IS MARK GARNER.
Some people know me as Gordo. Others as Lord Garner.
I left school with one O-level and discovered the things I could do extraordinarily well included selling, storytelling, debt collecting with blunt axes and dealing with bailiffs.
I’ve built companies, made fortunes, lost fortunes, gone bankrupt and started again. More than once.
I’ve mixed with gangsters, politicians, pornographers, chefs, millionaires, billionaires, journalists, rogues and the Manchester Music Mafia.
And for the last twenty years, I’ve been the publisher of Confidentials.com, the world’s first and still best regional online restaurant magazine, Manchester Confidential.**
I’M WRITING THE GREATEST BOOK OF MEMOIRS IN THE WORLD*.
It’ll make you laugh.
It might make you cry.
Occasionally, it’ll make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
And by the time you’ve finished it, you might even have learnt something from my mistakes.
Outrageous claims? Absolutely.
But I’ve never seen much point in aiming low.
THIS IS NOT AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
I’m not going to do a Roger Moore and bore the arse off you. I’m attempting to do a David Niven and use truth, honesty and self-deprecation to charm the arse off you.
This is a collection of stories.
Like the one about the world’s first satellite sex channel, Red Hot Dutch, when I became perhaps the least likely porn baron in Britain. I took on John Major’s Government and got my arse kicked. It took a while because the man in charge for Major was David Mellor, caught two weeks later by my pals at the red tops having his toes sucked in a Chelsea strip by the out-of-work actress Antonia de Sancha.
And then it turned out that Major had been rogering Edwina Currie.
Or the dot-com boom, when I went from virtually nothing to being worth around £60 million in five months, then watched the fucking lot disappear during a three-course lunch at the Savoy.
And then there’s Clint Eastwood.
WHAT WERE CLINT EASTWOOD AND GORDO DOING TOGETHER IN THE TOILETS OF MICHELIN-STARRED RESTAURANTS ACROSS FRANCE?
Eventually, standing next to me in the loo's of Le Pré Catelan in Paris, Clint zipped himself up, looked across and said:
You’ll have to buy the book for the rest.
AND I WANT YOUR NAME IN IT.
I’m producing a special First Edition hardback, limited to 1,000 copies.
It will be signed and individually numbered.
They will sell fast.
And our Founding Readers will have their names printed permanently inside the book.
Not on a website. Not on a list that disappears.
In the actual book. (You may not want that, it's up to you if you want to be a pussy)
The proceeds will also help me rebuild Confidentials for the AI age.
Seventy years. One O-level. Fortunes. Bankruptcies. A porn channel. Thousands of restaurants. A few gangsters. And Clint Eastwood in a toilet.
Whenever life offered me the sensible door or the interesting one, I invariably opened the interesting one.
Now I’m going to tell you what was on the other side.
Gordo’s Memoirs.
Coming Spring 2027.
Become a Founding Reader. Reserve your signed, numbered First Edition and have your name printed in the book.
