this is my idea of what might happen if you could take out a 25-year lease on martin amis and make him do whatever you wanted...

...for instance, writing for The Amazing Spider-Man:

A still, gravid silence descended upon the chamber. Peter shifted on the fullness of his gluteal cul, watching as J. Jonah Jameson sat back heavily in the high-backed leather office chair - this, Peter suddenly recalled, had been imported at great expense from Darlings of Chelsea - and sipped at his coffee, the staunch asperity of which curled his upper lip into a baroque arch of disdain. The monochrome eight-by-ten glossy sheets of Peter's latest commission had spilled into his lap with the quiet, deadly whisper of the silks of a chorister's cassock, and now it was merely a question of business. Peter felt his eyebrow threaten to twitch, and braced himself. His earlier hearty snoot had proved inefficacious at driving the bugs from the walls, and if he intended to put a better front up here with JJJ than he had with Mary-Jane in bed last night, his balls had to stay between his thighs where they belonged.