Andy Richardson: Fact: Never judge a book by it's cover

The book on his desk this morning was this: The Golden Age of Murder.

And it got us thinking.

When did 'murder' and 'golden age' belong in the same sentence. And if it's okay to celebrate killing people – 'yeah, that guy was a really nice killer, he was, always shook their hand and gave 'em a ciggie before doing them in' – would it be okay to have a golden age for other nefarious activities?

Could we appropriately write about, for instance, the golden age of drug dealing, hedgehog stamping or, oh I don't know, leg hair pulling. How about a golden age of alcoholism, benefit cheating or speeding in 30mph zones after dark?

The book about those could talk about really cheap whisky from Asda, how to fill out a form in the name of a recently deceased relative or offer advice on really wide roads without speed cameras. Apparently, Friar Park is full of them.

The Golden Age of Murder is not just a book about, presumably, the fun times people had while, umm, out killing. And stuff.

It's also a window into another world. Because someone, somewhere sat down in a creative meeting and said: "I know what we ought to do next, Tristram. We ought to do a book about when killing was great. You know, when murder was really murder. Not like it is now. You know, we should write about when murder was fun, when it was a laugh, when everybody went home happy." Except, of course, for the victim.

Even more worryingly, there must also be at least a couple of thousand people who are sitting feverishly at their computers waiting to click the BUY NOW button on Amazon – other book sellers are available – so that they can read about when killing was cool.

The Golden Age of Murder hasn't yet found a reviewer. It's sitting forlorn in a brown box, surrounded by bags of air that keep it safely in place.

And I'm pretty sure Book Guy didn't add it to the list of available titles that he sends round for review. Which is a shame, because it's probably hilarious – if you allow yourself to see the funny side or the idea, and not, of course, killing. Which is bad. Really bad.

Murder's like one of the baddest, worstest, naughtiest things that anyone can do. So don't think we're endorsing murder. We're not. We're dead against it. And we were when there was a golden age of it too. Just remember, kids: don't go killing anyone.

Phew. Glad we got that one sorted.

But the concept of Golden Age resonates.

And rather than writing about unsolicited death acts, like those cwazy fellas at HarperCollins, we thought it might be applied to stuff we care about, like fruit-based sweets, favourite football teams, particular eras of favourite bands or, most importantly of all, crisps.

The Golden Age of Fruit Based Sweets could focus on the era of Fruit Salads, Haribos, and Parma Violets (plants are almost fruits).

Or, if the publishers did a Golden Age of Murder and Fruit Based Sweets crossover title, to appeal to people who love killing while they're eating sweets, they could do a section on Parma Violents. Geddit.

I tend to think we're living through the Golden Age of Fruit Based Sweets right now.

The classics, like Starburst (that's Opal Fruits to you, grandpa and grandma) and Rowntree's Fruit Gums are still going strong but they're joined by apple crisps, funky monkey chews, sundried barberries, jujube fruit and – and we're thinking outside the box here – Cadbury's fruit and nut.

The Golden Age of Obscure Football Trivia is trickier. Let's face it, if we riff on Villa, we'll offend Blue Noses; if we muse on Wolves, we'll offend the Boing Boing crew and if we write about Preston North End only one man will read it.

The Golden Age of Favourite Bands is deliciously trainspottery and might feature details about B-sides by The Jam like Carnaby Street or rare facts about Pharrell Williams, like Happy went to number one in 865 countries but Come Get It Bae stalled at number 108 in France.

The Golden Age of Crisps would be subtitled The Golden Age of Golden Wonder. 'Nuff said.

Book Guy has, happily, offered up The Golden Age of Murder for review.

And I've volunteered to read it. I'm kind, like that. And it turns out it's not about murders after all. Instead, it explains how Agatha Christie and colleagues transformed crime writing by casting a new light on unsolved cases. So, that's alright then. The golden age of murder doesn't exist. It was just a clever title.

As they say: never judge a book by its cover.