Fiction
Némésis Part 5
Northern Iraq and the Syrian Governorate of Al Hasakha, December 2017 Ripley lay in the tarpaulin hammock, underneath an overhead poncho they had used to keep the sun out of her eyes. They were sensitive [more…]
Thriller
Fiction
Joe Malone, Part Twenty-Three
My office building was just up ahead. No lights were on. The other tenants having concluded their shady business for the day. And moved onto their shady night businesses for the night. I used my [more…]
Fiction
Némésis Part 4
Northern Iraq, December 2017 Halward clambered up into the extremely cramped rear compartment of the Supacat. They had cleared a space so that Ripley could lie down. She was huddled in her sleeping bag plus [more…]
Fiction
Joe Malone, Part Twenty-Two
“Take your designer bag and your phone and your card reader and your skinny arse, and piss off. And don’t let me see you here again, you understand?” The street beggar hurriedly gathered his stuff [more…]
Fiction
Némésis Part 3
Northern Iraq, December 2017 It was Sunday. Ripley had been kept awake by the wailing of the female fighters, mourning the death of the Peshmerga during the fighting of the previous day. They had buried [more…]
Fiction
Joe Malone, Part Twenty-One
Joe Malone, private Investigator, is still looking for the missing Lord Bixby. A principle figure in the Bollox to Brexit movement. Malone has just left young Lady Bixby and her companions at the Reform Club [more…]
Fiction
Némésis Part 2
Northern Iraq, November-December 2017 The Kurds were ostensibly Sunni Muslims although they seemed to display a rather more developed attitude towards the practice of their faith. The women generally covered their heads with either a [more…]
Authoritarianism
From Draft to Bookshop – A Journey
Almost two years ago this weekend my wife and I, rather nervously, drove into a small Devon village on our way to visit a family that I had only met through Going Postal but who [more…]
Fiction
Joe Malone, Part Twenty
“Is that the letter?” Lady Vanessa asked him. She had been very quiet. But suddenly sat forwards and peered at the envelope. To Sir Marmon-Herrington Bixby esq. Which was normal enough. Though the word, WANKPUPPET [more…]