Me, Miss Piggy and the birth of a Hollywood blockbuster

YEARS ago, I did a creative writing course at the local university.

Our two years of amateur novel writing ended with a visit from various agents and publishers, who were there to tell us how to get published.

“Forget it,” said a woman from Penguin to the assembled hopefuls. “You have no hope. Your life’s work will end up in a slush pile on the desk of some work experience junior whose main job it is to make the tea.”