First published in 1987, Doorknob the Autobiography was (allegedly) written be a door knob. This item was located on a door in a home in Bolton of Greater Manchester.

The 1,300 page work is the door knob’s wistful take on its existence being an implement to allow passage between rooms. First installed in 1923, it observed the comings and goings of humans and it all makes for a moving, startling expose into the thrilling world of door knobs.

However, some POMPOUS literary critics claim the work is spurious. Not genuine. Made up. Those bastards deserve the worst, is all we can say, this book is a remarkable insight into the world of, previously, believed to be non-sentient things.

Personal Revelations from the World of a Door Knob

“Without the door knob, human beings would have been walking into doorways and breaking their, respective, noses for millennia.”

The most notable aspect of this work is just what a bitter, caustic little wanker this particular door knob is. With a chip on its shoulder, it launches into a 17 chapter long opening tirade about how “ungrateful” humans are about the importance of its being.

Doorknob the Autobiography can, consequently, be a laborious read. At least for the first 50 chapters. However, from chapter 51 onward the door knob loosens up a little after it’s revealed a builder, in September 1978, loosened the screws slightly with the door handle attachment to the door.

This leads the item to feel less pressured and, consequently, its mood changes entirely.

“Once the screws were loosened it was a most delightful release! Suddenly, one could look open the world without the feeling that one had a giant fat man sitting on one. It was liberating. To celebrate, one scored some illegal drugs.”

Sadly, from chapter 52 onward the autobiography takes a dark, dank descent into the world of drug addiction. The doorknob becomes addicted to the germs on human hands, getting a kick particularly of man blokes too lazy to wash their hands after using the toilet.

By chapter 60, the narration tone returns to the belligerent and depressed start of the work. Again, the book becomes a chore to read. Again, readers will come to resent the doorknob.

However, despite its flaws (such as if it was really written by a door handle) the work is a fascinating insight into how these bits of interior design function in life:

• Screwed into a door
• Observing humanity over the decades
• Becoming scuffed and losing their shiny sheen

That does mean there are long, long passages of the doorknob observing an empty home whilst no one is there. A meditation on nothing and everything? Maybe, but it bored is rigid.

“When is a Door Not a Door? When it’s a Jar!“

To make reading matters worse, the doorknob has a penchant for telling dreadful jokes. The above in particular is mentioned 335 times across the work.

After the 20th time it’s already wearing a little thin.

There’s also the matter or door puns. They come in think and fast after the opening misery guts salvo of 17 chapters, with the likes of:

• I’m a-door-able!
• You can’t HANDLE the truth!
• I always feel the need to SHUT people out!
• I don’t swing that way!
• My fate HINGES on the next tenants!
• The only way is to get through me!
• Shut up? Me? I can only really open and close!
• Don’t disturb my door-mant state!

There are many more (hundreds), which abruptly end when the doorknob becomes a drug addict. It’s almost a great it did become an addict, as otherwise the rest of the work would have been ceaseless, endless puns.

So, would you want to be a doorknob? Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.