An Ethnic Trying to Get By
An Ethnic Trying to Get By is a compilation of Facebook timeline stories, a bunch of nicked memes, and shrubbage induced storytelling. Everything is mocked. Nothing is sacred.
WARNING: If you are easily offended then this book is not for you. But if you’re a Karen, then it is. Muhahahaha….
From goat-herding villages in Iran to the concrete courtyards of Kuwait, and finally to the rain-soaked streets of Britain, Eddie’s life has been anything but ordinary. An Ethnic Trying to Get By is a riotous collection of true (and slightly questionable) tales about growing up as an Armenian outsider, dodging bullets, dodging slippers, and occasionally dodging common sense.
Packed with outrageous anecdotes, biting satire, and the kind of cultural observations you’d never hear in polite company, this book is part memoir, part stand-up routine, and all unapologetic fun. Whether it’s Iranian taxi roulette, slipper-wielding grandmothers, or the perils of wearing rice-sack trousers, every chapter proves that being an “ethnic” isn’t just about survival — it’s about laughing your way through the madness.
If you’ve ever felt like an outsider, or just enjoy watching someone else make a glorious mess of life, this book is your new guilty pleasure.
Download to read the hilarious journey of Eddie through the joys and trials of life. What a ride!
Reviews
If Eddie Bazil could write a book, then this would be it!
This book is a brilliant comic outpouring, in a ‘stream of unconsciousness’ style, from the mind* of Eddie Bazil. Forget ‘a laugh a minute’, this is ‘a laugh a sentence’ stuff. A brief history of everything that’s happened in the world, coupled with a longer history of all that happened in High Wycombe since it became the home of a certain Armenian-Iranian ethnic.
A genuinely funny read, and well worth a donation.
*for a given value of ‘mind’.
Mysterious & Intriguing yet light & humorous
Engaging, clear & interactive.
Excerpt taken from the book
Taking a flight
I don’t know why weird shit always happens to me. In fact, if I had to catalogue all the mad things I have experienced it would make Tolstoy look like a shorthand secretary. When taking an internal flight in the USA be fukin careful who you sit next to. So, I am taking an internal flight from LA to Denver, the land of single toothed fuckers that rump men whilst playing banjos. I am actually not sure which is worse, getting rumped by some toothless hillbilly or the fact that the banjo is the instrument of choice during said rumping? I mean, can’t they at least go with a ukulele?
Anyways, the flight was almost empty bar 20 or so people. I was ushered to my seat which was next to the aisle which I found to be a bonus as I could use a bit of leg room because, you know, I’m a really tall bastard measuring a strong 5’ 7”. Next to the bigfoot yanks I looked like one of those choirboys just prior to a private confessional with a ‘trusted’ bishop. As my friends know only too well ‘luck’ has a completely different meaning when it comes to me. I got seated next to a Saudi dude. He was by the window. We exchanged nods and proceeded to kick back and read the insightful magazines they offload on planes. I couldn’t wait to find out if Mildred’s sister was repentant after stealing Mildred’s husband and mothering 16 kids with him.
We were getting ready to leave and the stewardesses were doing the usual rounds telling people to put their shit away and buckle up and to take up the ‘imminent death’ position by pretending to self administer a blowjob if the plane went down.
A blond bint with mad legs came to me and the Jihadi and said:
Blond bint with mad legs to Jihadi: ‘excuse me sir but could I please have your briefcase? I will put it up in the overhead.’
Jihadi dude: ‘No’.
Blond bint with mad legs: ‘I am sorry sir but I must take your baggage and put it in the overhead’.
Hezbollah dude clutching his briefcase really tightly: ‘NO!’
The stewardess looked at me and said:
Blond bint with mad legs: ‘Do you speak Arabic sir?’
I became very pale because I knew this meant dragging my ass into dialogue with a Saudi that clearly had a single cranial cell and that cranial cell was on supervised day release. I knew this would not end well.
Pale ethnic: sigh…’yes, a little.’
Blond bint with mad legs: ‘could you ask him to give me his briefcase so I can secure it in the overhead?’
Almost yellow in complexion ethnic: ‘I can try but he’s Saudi so it could take a while.’
So I turned to the jihadi and told him that it wasn’t really a choice and that he had to allow the blond bint with the mad legs to secure his briefcase in the overhead compartment. I explained it was simply for our safety and he would get his briefcase back after we took off.
Fukin jihadi: ‘NO’.
Blond bint with the mad legs left curtly.
5 minutes later the pilot came to us.
He went through the blond bint with the mad legs routine only to be presented with the same response from the Hezbollah cock, and this time he gripped his briefcase even tighter. The panic in his eyes started to worry me a tad and the pilot took this paranoia as a cue to find another resolution to the situation.
The pilot went back to the cockpit.
10 minutes later SWAT entered the plane.
They came towards the jihadi and me with laser directed M16s aimed at our heads.
SWAT roid-head leader: ‘Tell the gentleman that he MUST forfeit his briefcase for our inspection.’
Ethnic reaching for the oxygen mask: ‘First of all, you need to be aware that I do not know this dude, have never seen him before and I would much rather go to another seat and let you guys sort this shit out.’
SWAT roid-head twitchy leader: ‘I cannot allow that sir, not until he forfeits his briefcase for inspection. I will only say this once. Tell the gentleman he MUST forfeit his briefcase or we will have to take action.’
Ethnic administering self DIY CPR (in Arabic): ‘look, if these dudes don’t get your briefcase we will both die right here right now. If you don’t give them your briefcase I will kill you myself.’
Jihadi: ‘FUCK THEM.’
Ethnic on the fringes of a coma: ‘GIVE him your fukin suitcase or we will die!’
The Hezbollah realized this might not end well and decided he would only give up his briefcase if he was allowed to watch them inspect it.
SWAT moved back and called in their ‘bomb expert’. He opened the briefcase and inside was one apple and a picture of his wife.
I nearly died because of a fukin apple.
I turned to the fukin jihadi and head butted him. I kept on head butting him until we landed at Denver.
Feel free to Donate!!
Please, please do not feel obligated to donate. I won’t be offended. I might not wish you on your birthday and might even send people round to visit you, but please don’t feel pressured to give me lots of money (maybe my family can move on from Quorn and eat real meat this month), but again, please don’t feel pressured..
TBH, if I can collect enough dineros not to have to lube it up and hit Bayswater, I can then concentrate on writing another turd relocator epic.