Adrenalin junkie, oil rigger, motorbike fanatic, madman . . . Paul Carter, author of Don't Tell Mum I Work on the Rigs, She Thinks I'm a Piano Player in a Whorehouse, is back with more (mostly) good clean stories of life on the rigs.
Carter writes as if he has ADD, careering through his life on oil rigs in exotic locations. He won't win the Booker, but his yarns burn with anarchic energy ... in a word, irrepressible.' - Herald Sun
He's back on the rigs and back in trouble.
Picking up right where he left off, Paul Carter pulls out more tall tales of a mad, bad and dangerous life in the international oil trade. Starting with action and mayhem galore This Is Not A Drill sets an unrelenting pace that just doesn't let up, as Paul almost drowns when the Russian rig he's working on begins to capsize; is reunited with his Dad - another adrenaline junkie; gets married; hangs out with his rig pig buddies in exotic locations; gets hammered on vodka in Sakhalin; and spends a couple of interesting weeks in Afghanistan with some mates who run an outfit that just happens to contract out mercenaries for hire ...
This is the next fast, furious and very funny book from Paul Carter, the author of the bestselling Don't Tell Mum I Work on the Rigs, She Thinks I'm a Piano Player in a Whorehouse.
Keep up to date with Paul's latest adventures, bike riding around Australia on a bio-fuelled bike! thegoodoil.tv
About Paul Carter
Paul Carter was born in England in 1969. His father's military career had the family moving all over the world, re-locating every few years. He has worked in the oil industry now for fifteen years, re-locating every few years (old habits). Paul has lived, worked, gotten into trouble and been given a serious talking to, in: England, Scotland, Germany, France, Holland, Norway, Portugal, Tunisia, Australia, Nigeria, Russia, Singapore, Malaysia, Borneo, Columbia, Vietnam, Thailand, Papua New Guinea, Sumatra, the Philippines, Korea, Japan, China, USA and Saudi Arabia. Today he lives in Perth with his wife and two motorbikes. But who knows where he'll be tomorrow . . .