Sunday, 20 November 2016

Casualties



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.

Wednesday, 19 October 2016

London

What is life without a bit of fun?
Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow is another day.
So what if you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. So what if everything seems black and grey.
Tony and Dave are familiar with life's problems, but never do they feel like giving up.
And why?
Because they're in London, and London is in them!

Monday, 5 September 2016

Absent underwear



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

We ain't gonna die - it's turbulence!


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!

Dave, Tony and Andy are high in the sky, heading to Vegas. But will their plane get there, or will it drop from the sky like a bag of bricks?

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 the Flag


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.

Happy Holidays!

Meet Dave, Tony et al in my various ebooks, out now on kindle, via Amazon.


Tuesday, 28 June 2016

Clouds

It's a funny old time to be English - or is it?

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.