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Billy No Maps
What do Pamela Anderson's ex-husband, a Los Angeles street gang, a trans-European smuggling plot and 64 acres of sugar cane have in common? They all became inextricably linked with Will Nett, that's what, as he tangled with Balinese customs officials, almost died in the Australian Outback and foiled his own kidnapping at the hands of Fijian furniture salesmen during his chaotic year-long excuse for a holiday.
Will's scarcely believable follow up to My Only Boro will have you hoping you never find yourself sitting next to him on a plane. Or a bus. Or anywhere... ...And if you're planning a round-the-world gap year trip in the near future, whatever you do, don't let your mum read this book.
I know what you're thinking...who on earth is Billy No Maps when he's at home? Firstly, he's never at home. He's an itinerant traveller, destined to roam the earth like some sort of half-man, half-tumbleweed hybrid. He could be anyone: man, woman or child. He's the man on the bus who wallops everyone with his backpack as he tries to find a seat at the last minute, then wallops them all again in reverse order when he gets off.
He's the guy who considers an airport toilet floor to be five-star accommodation.
He's the sort of person who eats nothing but Jaffa Cakes and Pringles on a 48 hour bus ride through Thailand, then wonders why he has a bad stomach.
You there! Headlocking that Customs Officer in an intense debate about the Duty Free restrictions...you could be Billy No Maps.
Is that him over there; inadvertantly trampling on a poisonous jellyfish, his face as red as a lobster?
If you've ever upset a terrorist, almost been kidnapped whilst furniture shopping, or had to cook a lasagne in the kettle, you can probably relate to the human shambles that is Billy No Maps.
Will's scarcely believable follow up to My Only Boro will have you hoping you never find yourself sitting next to him on a plane. Or a bus. Or anywhere... ...And if you're planning a round-the-world gap year trip in the near future, whatever you do, don't let your mum read this book.
I know what you're thinking...who on earth is Billy No Maps when he's at home? Firstly, he's never at home. He's an itinerant traveller, destined to roam the earth like some sort of half-man, half-tumbleweed hybrid. He could be anyone: man, woman or child. He's the man on the bus who wallops everyone with his backpack as he tries to find a seat at the last minute, then wallops them all again in reverse order when he gets off.
He's the guy who considers an airport toilet floor to be five-star accommodation.
He's the sort of person who eats nothing but Jaffa Cakes and Pringles on a 48 hour bus ride through Thailand, then wonders why he has a bad stomach.
You there! Headlocking that Customs Officer in an intense debate about the Duty Free restrictions...you could be Billy No Maps.
Is that him over there; inadvertantly trampling on a poisonous jellyfish, his face as red as a lobster?
If you've ever upset a terrorist, almost been kidnapped whilst furniture shopping, or had to cook a lasagne in the kettle, you can probably relate to the human shambles that is Billy No Maps.
252 pages, Paperback
First published June 12, 2014
1 person is currently reading
176 people want to read
About the author
Will Nett
19 books3 followersWill Nett is an incurable backpacker, pianoman, and habitual note-maker/taker, most of which have found their way into his Gonzo-steeped works, My Only Boro: A Walk Through Red & White, and his riotous travelog, Billy No Maps. More recently he has turned his hand to fiction, in the form of his first collection of short stories, Bank Notes, released in December 2021.
An interplanetary package holiday takes a dark turn. A man is driven to madness by an unseen torturer. Construction workers discover a tunnel beneath the streets of the French Riviera. The author’s quest for a historical relic does not go to plan. Vengeance is sought in the Lowlands of Europe. A cat helps lay the foundations of a northern town.
These, and other strange tales, form an anthology of the arcane as Will Nett’s short stories are collected together for the first time. Journey with the author, where little is as it seems, as the reader is drawn in to the vague reality that is Bank Notes.
The chaos continues in, The Golfer's Lament: How I Reached For The Pars...And Missed.
Everyone thinks they can play golf. Will Nett is no different. How hard could it be? Get the ball in the hole in as few strokes as possible.
Having had one of his best worst ideas yet, Will Nett takes to the fairways in an attempt to master the most absurd of sports. Garishly outfitted, and armed with nothing more than a set of Ladies’ Clubs and a bad temper, he becomes immersed in the game, and all its infuriating foibles.
Many a walk is spoiled as he chases the white ball through the gardens and washing lines of Hull, the vaudeville-steeped music hall’s of Victorian England, and the Arctic Circle.
Join him on the first tee as he blunders from clubhouse to classroom and everywhere in‑between as he reaches for the pars… and misses.
In Local Author Writes Book, he describes his attempts to produce his 'difficult second book' and the attendant nonsense that came with the success of his first, in a meta-fictional rollercoaster ride of Anglo-French relations, street-level punch ups, and fad dieting.
He has been a Sudoku salesman, snooker table repair man, model, cinema usher and unprofessional gambler.
An interplanetary package holiday takes a dark turn. A man is driven to madness by an unseen torturer. Construction workers discover a tunnel beneath the streets of the French Riviera. The author’s quest for a historical relic does not go to plan. Vengeance is sought in the Lowlands of Europe. A cat helps lay the foundations of a northern town.
These, and other strange tales, form an anthology of the arcane as Will Nett’s short stories are collected together for the first time. Journey with the author, where little is as it seems, as the reader is drawn in to the vague reality that is Bank Notes.
The chaos continues in, The Golfer's Lament: How I Reached For The Pars...And Missed.
Everyone thinks they can play golf. Will Nett is no different. How hard could it be? Get the ball in the hole in as few strokes as possible.
Having had one of his best worst ideas yet, Will Nett takes to the fairways in an attempt to master the most absurd of sports. Garishly outfitted, and armed with nothing more than a set of Ladies’ Clubs and a bad temper, he becomes immersed in the game, and all its infuriating foibles.
Many a walk is spoiled as he chases the white ball through the gardens and washing lines of Hull, the vaudeville-steeped music hall’s of Victorian England, and the Arctic Circle.
Join him on the first tee as he blunders from clubhouse to classroom and everywhere in‑between as he reaches for the pars… and misses.
In Local Author Writes Book, he describes his attempts to produce his 'difficult second book' and the attendant nonsense that came with the success of his first, in a meta-fictional rollercoaster ride of Anglo-French relations, street-level punch ups, and fad dieting.
He has been a Sudoku salesman, snooker table repair man, model, cinema usher and unprofessional gambler.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
February 23, 2015
OK, I’m giving this 5 stars from the outset, although I haven’t finished it yet. (One of my rules of reading is a refusal to distinguish between books I've 'read', books I've partly read and books I haven't read but still have an opinion about.) It’s given me at least 5 stars worth of anticipatory pleasure while waiting for a copy - the pleasure of anticipating a book can be as great as the pleasure of reading it. Of course it may turn out to be pants, but I don’t think so. We’ll see. Revised score pending...
Will Nett’s ‘My Only Boro’ was one of my biggest literary suprises of recent years. I bought it as a history of Middlesbrough, having visited that tourist Mecca of the North East, from Australia, a few years back. The main reason I chose it above others was that it didn’t seem to be mostly about football. I ended up reading it at a single gulp – something I never do – admiring its grasp of real history at the human level, its droll observation of human nature, its wounded but defiant local pride and sense of the ridiculous - and laughing out loud more than a handful of times.
Although concentrating of Middlesbrough, ‘My Only Boro’ gave numerous hints of the author’s disreputable world travels. These seemed appropriate in context, since you can’t write about a city with the ambiguous reputation of Middlesbrough without including your dreams of escape (and return).
‘Billy No Maps’ is the book that promises to blow the lid on those travels. We're definitely not in Middlesbrough anymore, Toto...
The opening chapter is promising: a swirling, garrulous mish-mash, like the monologue of a bloke who’s had a few pints and has a lot to tell, and refuses to stick to the point, or distinguish the facts from the tall tales, or miss any opportunity to make a bad joke. I suspect this will be the dominant tone of the book, and it is well chosen – as long as the author can maintain his own distinctive voice and not descend into complete formlessness, without the continuing, sullen presence of Middlesbrough to keep things on track. I am looking forward to finding out. (Even if he doesn't it's bound to be great fun.) I am particularly looking forward to the Australian section...
Will Nett’s ‘My Only Boro’ was one of my biggest literary suprises of recent years. I bought it as a history of Middlesbrough, having visited that tourist Mecca of the North East, from Australia, a few years back. The main reason I chose it above others was that it didn’t seem to be mostly about football. I ended up reading it at a single gulp – something I never do – admiring its grasp of real history at the human level, its droll observation of human nature, its wounded but defiant local pride and sense of the ridiculous - and laughing out loud more than a handful of times.
Although concentrating of Middlesbrough, ‘My Only Boro’ gave numerous hints of the author’s disreputable world travels. These seemed appropriate in context, since you can’t write about a city with the ambiguous reputation of Middlesbrough without including your dreams of escape (and return).
‘Billy No Maps’ is the book that promises to blow the lid on those travels. We're definitely not in Middlesbrough anymore, Toto...
The opening chapter is promising: a swirling, garrulous mish-mash, like the monologue of a bloke who’s had a few pints and has a lot to tell, and refuses to stick to the point, or distinguish the facts from the tall tales, or miss any opportunity to make a bad joke. I suspect this will be the dominant tone of the book, and it is well chosen – as long as the author can maintain his own distinctive voice and not descend into complete formlessness, without the continuing, sullen presence of Middlesbrough to keep things on track. I am looking forward to finding out. (Even if he doesn't it's bound to be great fun.) I am particularly looking forward to the Australian section...
October 29, 2014
I was very pleased when I received this book from goodreads.comBilly No Maps
First of all, I must say I do like the title - very appealing! Billy, or should I say Will Nett, has certainly packed a lot into the 252 pages, all of it very readable.
I enjoyed his descriptions of places I have visited, making me feel I was there again. (Sydney in particular.)
He also made me want to visit lots of other places such as the South Pacific. Not Vegas though, but that is just me.
As I am old enough to be the author's mother (possibly even grandmother), and from the south of England, the Boro' culture meant nothing to me, but that didn't matter one jot.
All in all, a good satisfying read.
First of all, I must say I do like the title - very appealing! Billy, or should I say Will Nett, has certainly packed a lot into the 252 pages, all of it very readable.
I enjoyed his descriptions of places I have visited, making me feel I was there again. (Sydney in particular.)
He also made me want to visit lots of other places such as the South Pacific. Not Vegas though, but that is just me.
As I am old enough to be the author's mother (possibly even grandmother), and from the south of England, the Boro' culture meant nothing to me, but that didn't matter one jot.
All in all, a good satisfying read.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews