If she put her fingers in her ears and started to hum, “la la la I can’t hear you,” would it vanish?
No, it was rather like being told not to think about a blue elephant. In her mind, the elephant was thundering its way through her head, trumpeting furiously.
Switching the radio on and hearing about how a 24-year-old’s debut novel had broken the record for highest first-week sales since records began had set off the green-eyed monster in all of its filthy fury.
GK Rawlings tried to feel pleased for her. And failed.