Tuesday, 4 April 2017


Sitting on a bench, watching the ferries sailing back and forth across the Channel, Ward allowed the weak heat of the sun to slightly warm his pale face. Less than twenty-four hours earlier he had killed a thirteen-year-old girl. Killing the child had been a quick and violent act, and her death was of no consequence to him. For Ward, the pleasure in killing someone came from the pain and suffering he caused the parents, relatives and close friends of his victims. He knew, as a stray dog ran past him, that right then, somewhere in Canterbury, the parents of Melissa Hall would be sick with worry, not knowing if their little angel was alive or dead.

Ward pulled from his pocket a telephone. It was Melissa Hall's telephone – the telephone she had dropped when he had attacked her from behind, before throwing her into the sea. He had, wisely, turned the telephone off after he had murdered the girl, for he knew that when a mobile telephone is switched on, it is quite possible for the location of the telephone to be detected by satellites. But now he had to switch the phone on, because he wanted to play a very sick game with Melissa Hall's parents.

Tuesday, 14 March 2017

Northern scum & foreign dross.

Ward swore to himself and made a beeline for the outer deck. It was ten o'clock at night, and apart from a few flickering lights, visibility was poor. He gripped the rail which prevented him and other passengers from falling overboard, and shaking his head from side to side, he bemoaned the fact that the boat was old and dirty. He then peered over the rail and watched as the foam from the black sea splashed against the side of the boat. He observed the sea and listened to the sound of the ferry's tired and aching motors, as they propelled the boat gently through the Channel. The air may have been cold and uninviting, but it was so much better than the air he had been forced to inhale in the bar. There, the sea of bodies stank of stale sweat, they belched, they coughed and they spread germs. The air inside was soiled by all of those fat and ugly bodies, by northern scum and foreign dross. The air outside was pure.

Extract taken from "After Dover" - an ebook for kindle by Luke Ryman.

Sunday, 19 February 2017

Chardonnay & Cheeseburgers

Warm, white wine. Iffy cheeseburgers. Hormones in overdrive. Day trips to France and holidays in America.

Springtime cometh.

Arrange your winter clothes and put away your heavy coat. Think BARBECUE and BEER!

Get out those t-shirts. Take in the sun and be happy that you've survived another winter.

Sunday, 22 January 2017

The World's Gone Fucking Mad (Part 1)

As temperatures plunge in France, this homeless man has nothing to consider except another night sleeping rough, in the snow.

Meanwhile, not too far away, in northern France, these migrants are preparing themselves a hot meal, in the kitchen of their new home, in one of France's many centres created to house migrants like them. And then, it's off to bed...

Is it me, or has the world gone fucking mad?

Now is the time to expel the parasites which are ruining this country, and the time to put France FIRST!

Sunday, 11 December 2016

Views from the Fat Man - PART ONE

Tony Joy - aka The Fat Man - wants to share with you his thoughts on how this year, which is rapidly coming to an end, has been, and what he would have done to make it better. Fuelled by strong lager and a hatred of all people of the non-white category, this foul-mouthed, overweight layabout has lots to say - if anyone wants to listen.

"Girls getting naked are here to stay. Porn is BIG, whether you agree with it or not. This year, we've all had to suffer up to our armpits the endless news stories concerning the current migrant situation affecting Europe. Now, the Calais Jungle has been dismantled, and the immigrants have been sent packing to various refugee centres throughout France. What I want to say is that the influx of unwanted migrants was a big thing, which is now starting to wobble, before the whole bloody saga will probably come to an end. This crisis is not big enough to hold our attention, unlike porn, which is as solid as a rock, and which will still be here when the refugees are long gone.

"This is a full English breakfast, crammed to bursting point with fat, grease and other unhealthy things. This is the BEST way to start the day, and ranks as one of my favourite gut-busting meals. It would be a brave man to tell me that this sort of food is bad for you. THINK STRAIGHT and EAT GREAT is my motto, and to hell with your carrot juice."

"What can I say that hasn't been said already? We are being destroyed by TV and the celebrities which spring up from nowhere, thanks to this ghastly medium. If they're not touching-up kiddies, banging on about the migrant crisis or just bothering us like flies around a lukewarm turd, they are surely up to no good. I'd rather spend an evening with a family of refugees from Syria than a minute with these drossbags."
"Very soon our passports will no longer mention the words EUROPEAN COMMUNITY on the front cover, as BREXIT and all of its consequences slash through the chains that bind us to the continent, and shackle us to a regime of oppression and rigidity. YES, we have got our country back! I've scratched my head and balls for hours on end, to think of one reason why BREXIT can't be good for us, and I'm struggling to come up with an answer. We're on to a winner with this, and our darkie and darkest days are behind us. Clean the streets and the streets will stay clean, for tomorrow is a day of new changes!"

"With their sad faces and underfed bodies, they could be right in thinking that life isn't a bowl of cherries. Driven out of their homeland by civil war and starving to death, a decent cheeseburger would be enough to make 'em 'appy. You see: I AM A SOLUTIONS MAN!"


Sunday, 20 November 2016


I ate my sandwiches alone. It was my second week at the factory, but I was still unloved by my fellow colleagues. I looked around the restaurant, as I ate my mid-afternoon snack, and thought to myself that my colleagues were all cunts. Scum. Bastards. Slags. Whores. Dogs. I despised them all. Not because they didn't accept me, but because it was me against them. It was a war. There had already been one casualty, and there were going to be others. That's what wars are all about. Casualties. And if I didn't want to become a casualty, I would have to take out my opponents – one by one. Only the fittest would survive. It was me or them.  

There's going to be a war...
Extract taken from "The Londoners" - an ebook for kindle by Luke Ryman.

Wednesday, 2 November 2016

Thin lips

 A man could easily become depressed in such circumstances. A sea of bodies – yet none of them virgins, and all of them familiar with rough sex. Samantha spoke to me again. She asked me where my friend had got to. What friend? The one who I said I was waiting for. Well, there was no friend. It had been an excuse to make her shut her vulgar mouth, and deflect her away from me. Except that it hadn't worked. She said that her friends called her Sammie. That seemed logical. I had to move closer to her, because a man had pushed me in the back, to get to the bar. Sammie smelt of cheap perfume. I looked at her face. It wasn't as bad as some of the faces in the pub. She had turned her back on her girlfriends, and wanted to speak to me. I offered Sammie a drink. She asked the barman for a vodka and coke. Much better than a pint of lager, I thought. Sammie had unblemished skin, and thin lips. A small nose. Blue eyes. Dark hair. But that fucking tattoo. She said that she regretted having the tattoo, because she thought that later on – when she was older – it would look stupid. I laughed and agreed with her. I said that I didn't have any tattoos. Everything about Sammie was slim. Her entire body. Her thin neck. Her fingers. Thin and so feminine. When she took her glass of vodka and coke I looked at the way she gripped the glass. It was a delicate grip. I had been wrong to write her off as chaff.  

Love is in the air in southeast London. But how will the evening end?
"The Londoners: Part 1" out now for kindle via amazon.