Monday, 5 September 2016
Who are these awful creatures? With their big mouths, vulgar laughs, cheap lipstick and absent underwear, who are these foul-mouthed, beer-swilling girls?
Don't know and don't want to know, you say to yourself.
What a shame that Tony Joy doesn't follow your couldn't give a shit attitude.
No, not our Tony. No, not our fat friend with the bulging eyes, bloated stomach and disgusting habits. For he simply loves awful creatures.
He gets his kicks from watching them vomit their vodka and orange over the pavement, for whilst they are bent forward, emptying their guts, the man with the bulging eyes is right behind them, dribbling over their naked arses.
It's a sight that should be avoided, unless you get your kicks like Tony Joy.
Meet the man and all of his friends, as he and his cronies weave their way through the streets of southeast London.
Meet them all in "The Londoners" - a trilogy, out now on kindle, via Amazon.
Sunday, 24 July 2016
The three of us woke at the same time, as the plane started to shudder and lurch violently. Tony looked at a terrified Andy. He looked very pale and it smelt like that he had shit himself. Tony leant across to him and gave him a very serious look. The plane shuddered again, and as it tried to correct itself, Tony told Andy that it was all over. We were all going to die. We had lost all engines, and we were plunging towards the Atlantic and towards our death.
Sick bastard! But that was Tony.
Andy started to gasp for air, and would have stood up, if he still hadn't been strapped into his seat. Tony laughed a sick laugh and patted Andy on the thigh.
Turbulence, you idiot. It's turbulence. We ain't going to die. We're going to Vegas!
Find out in Humourland, a collection of amusing short tales about love, life and dodgy pizzas.
Out now on kindle.
Tuesday, 12 July 2016
Fly away to get away! We did, and now we're back.
Summer is still with us, but for some of us the holidays are coming to an end.
"Ate too much, drank too much - but what a pleasure it was AND without a screaming bloody child in sight."
"You forgot THAT one who insisted on jumping in the roof-top pool, even if the sign says that it's forbidden."
"Oh, yes! Well, there's always one little bastard who likes to ignore the rules."
The beer was great and the food was edible. The ice-cream melted under the blazing sun and we burnt our shoulders driving all over Malta.
And back at home one balls-up came after another. Roy Hodgson threw in towel and David Cameron did the same. The whole world was talking about Brexit and how we've got our country back.
Peace will descend upon our magnificent land one day soon.
France slipped up at the final hurdle against Portugal, Cliff Richard is after the police and Andy Murray lifted our spirits at Wimbledon.
Poor France! But at least the spirits have been lifted over here. There is a feel-good factor in the air, and as I write the sun is out. But for how long...
Soon summer will become autumn and then winter will come knocking at our doors. Brexit will be forgotten as the world zooms in on the clash of the century: TRUMP versus CLINTON.
America and Americans, if you want YOUR country back, there's only one way to go!
The hour of the aperitif is now upon us.
Meet Dave, Tony et al in my various ebooks, out now on kindle, via Amazon.
Tuesday, 28 June 2016
Churchill would be glad that we've finally cut ties with those meddling bastard bureaucrats at Brussels - the bastards who were intent on destroying our nation.
TOO LATE you bunch of brainless cock-suckers. WE'RE OUT and WE'RE OUT TO STAY.
So now, as summer is finally upon us, we've finally got our country back, as Donald Trump quite rightly said, when he heard that Brexit is what the British people want.
FUCK EUROPE! they shouted from Milton Keynes to Bexhill-on-Sea. FUCK EUROPE! and all of the shit which comes with it.
Now let's repel the unwelcome ones back to the sea. Let's make Britain something which the British people can be proud of.
ENGLAND FOR THE ENGLISH, and to hell with the east European scum who are wandering down our country lanes as though this is their home.
It will never be your home, because England is for the English!
Let's turn the page and forget the past. It will be hard and there will be times when we question our choice. But never give up, because the future is great and ours for the taking. So seize it with both hands and just be glad that our darkest years our behind us.
Sunday, 5 June 2016
Peter Ward had been to France to see an old friend of his. Ward had first met David Tyler in London, all of those years before, when life seemed a lot better and the world was full of opportunities and rewards for people who were willing to take a risk. Ward had taken a risk, as he had arrived in London with his pockets empty of money, nowhere to live and no job. Eventually, after drifting through life for a while, Ward got a job as a mechanic in a garage in Catford. It was there that he first met Tyler, and it was then that their friendship blossomed.
The two colleagues shared a tiny flat, above a newsagents, just a few streets away from where they repaired cars to earn a living. Tyler was a year younger than Ward, and was born in Folkestone – a part of the world which Ward knew well. When they weren't up to their elbows in grease and grime, the two colleagues – now close friends – would spend all of their free time in their local pub, which was situated at the end of the street in which they lived.
Tyler was a heavy drinker, but he justified his love of lager and whisky by saying that when one works hard, one has the right to play hard. Ward didn't understand why Tyler had to justify his love of alcohol, because as far as Ward was concerned, Tyler was an adult, and he could do whatever he wanted whenever he chose to do so. It was during this time that Ward also became dependent on alcohol, but never once did
either of the two friends miss a day's work because they had consumed too much alcohol the night before.
Extract taken from "After Dover" - an ebook for kindle by Luke Ryman
Thursday, 26 May 2016
I don't like mindless violence, and I only use my iron bar if I really have to, and only when I need to protect myself. It makes me laugh when people talk about Glen and his iron bar, as though I spend most of my life laying into people for no apparent reason. Well, that's not the case, and because I steer clear of drugs, and shit like that, I seem to get by, without being involved in anything that I'd rather avoid. Criminals operate on different tiers, and whilst I take my hat off to those who deal in drugs, and make loads of money, I think that there's a good life to be made from pickpocketing. Tony agrees with me, and often says that greed is the downfall of many a criminal, and that all the while he's got enough money to buy a drink, and have a bit of fun, then that's good enough for him.
EXTRACT TAKEN FROM THE LONDONERS TRILOGY - FOUR YEARS IN LONDON - AVAILABLE FOR KINDLE VIA AMAZON
Wednesday, 20 April 2016
Strewn across the bedroom floor were Tony's t-shirts and underpants, together with his much-loved Arsenal shorts, which he had stolen from a sports shop during a Christmastime shoplifting spree. He was really proud of the fact that he had managed to get away with the shorts, without being caught, and said that while he agreed that shoplifting is immoral, he got a real buzz from walking into a shop and helping himself to whatever he wanted.
He had even left an unfinished glass of lager on his bedside table, and after peering into it, I saw that a film of dead insects and mould had started to develop on the surface. All of a sudden I no longer had the urge to go to the pub for a pint of lager, and not wanting to vomit all over myself, I backed away from the table and continued to look for any cash that Tony may have inadvertently scattered throughout his bedroom, in the same way a squirrel hordes nuts, so in barren times, it always has something to eat, and doesn't have to worry about where its next meal is going to come from.
But the fat bastard had left nothing of any value lying around, unless his stash of pornographic magazines had some sort of resale value. But even then, there was no way I was going to touch his magazines, because soiled magazines containing pictures of nude women are on the same level as unfinished glasses of lager.
Tony Joy is in Florida, but Dave Cooper isn't! Without his only friend in life, what is Dave going to do? Find out the answer to this question - and others - in Destroying Buck, a short and amusing tale about a fat man getting up to no good in Florida.
This ebook can also be found in Humourland, which, as the title suggests, is a series of amusing tales in one ebook.
All titles, and others by the same author, are available for kindle via Amazon.