#fridayflash
“Voglio spedire un telegramma per Londra.” “Certo. Inglese?” “Si.” Adam Fletcher pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow as the young lady behind the counter at the Poste e Telegrafi stepped off her small stool to reach one of the blank telegram forms behind her. She picked up [...]
He has hunted monsters in Marrakesh, had fisticuffs with undesirables, explored the paranormal, battled with the elements and captured smugglers. Its now time for a letter home… December 21st 1901 Hello Mammy, It’s with great sadness that I write to tell you I will not be making it back home for Christmas. It sounds like [...]
All Rise…
Well, your ‘onour, I arrived on the corner of Brick Lane and White Chapel ‘igh street at approximately 3am on the morning of November 6th 1927. Across the road, lying on the ground face-down, was a body which I presumed to be that of a reveller who was slightly worse for wear.
The Senators stepped away from Julius Caesar who dropped down to his knees in shock and began to straighten his robes. His heart still beat strong and the blood flowed thick and heavy over his fingertips as he looked up in sorrow at those who had conspired against him. His look then turned to rage [...]
“I say, what a marvelous cock!”
I was so pleased the Vicar had noticed on this splendid spring day. Last year he had seemed to be obsessed by Lady Watson’s tits, and if we’re being perfectly honest, we would have to admit to agreeing they were a most magnificent pair, and most worthy of the prestigious Best Birds award in the Kensington and Chelsea Annual Ornithology Show 1911. But this was 1912. A whole year had passed. A year in which I had spent a great deal of time preparing and nurturing my Spangling Green Cock.
Ah, my good man! Is the guest room ready for my chum Hans’ arrival tomorrow?
Oh superb! Knowing Hans I’ll bet he’ll be wanting to have a good old wrestle when he arrives. Might be an idea to make some space in here.
Nightcap? What an excellent idea. What’s that rather dusty bottle at the back? Well I’ll be, a bottle of Old Overholt rye whiskey. That must be, what, nearly thirteen years old. You know, I got it during that year I spent traveling around the Northern Americas shortly after finishing reading Latin at Oxford. In fact, I can be more precise than that. It was in March 1888. Have I ever told you about the most blasted blizzard?
I wonder what your reaction would be if I told you about the chap opposite me who was given hydrochloric acid instead of water this morning. Or of the person in the bed next to me, who I watched peel back all of his fingernails, one by one, the other day. I wonder if I [...]
It was Tom Brule who led the party of twelve up to the cabin. Like everyone else in the town, this summer had been sheer hell and misery. His share of the woe was being forced to put down six of the eight cows he owned; their meat not even being good enough for the [...]
How wonderful to see you at the races, Duchess Bloemfontein, Ladies.
Oh I had a bit of trouble at the gate, seems my invitation to the enclosure must have got lost in the post this year.
No, one of the three things I promised my mammy I would never do:
1) Never trust a man from Tramore
2) Never fight for the English
3) Never bet on the Horses
Some more Gentlemen’s Spice Asquith: You know Georgie? Browne: Do I ? Rather! Went for a spin in that ferocious motorcar of his the other week. Asquith: We were out around Piccadilly last Friday. Browne: Bet it was a right hoot! Last time I was out with him, practically emptied the bar at the Strand. Next morning, [...]