Saturday, 13 February 2016

Welcome to...

A man pushes his bicycle through a disease-infested puddle and another wanders hopelessly along a disused railway line, looking somewhat pissed orf with life. But at least the sun is shining and those jolly kind chaps from feed-a-fuckin' refugee are on their way with tomato soup and bread rolls. Yes, for in one's lowest moment, nothing beats soup and bread to help blow away those migrant blues.

And where is this shite-hole on earth to be found? Is it in some corner of Africa? Is it in Iraq? Is it in Bangladesh? Mais non, mes amis!  This hovel of a homeland is to be found in Calais, a town only a ninety minute ferry ride away from Dover, in dear old Blighty.

What 'o me old chums, not the very same Dover which that little bugger Adolf Hitler wanted to get his hands on all of those years ago? Yes, THAT Dover, whose white cliffs stand tall over the Channel, protecting this little corner of England.

But where is all of this heading, old chap, if I could be so rude as to enquire? Well, there them migrant buggers, with their Adidas tracksuits and terrible table manners, would just love to hop on one of those ferry things and take a ride to Dover. And once there, they would be awfully grateful if the British government would play the white man, and give them asylum, free housing, free food, free education, free internet access and free...

GOOD GOD, NO!!! I hear you all cry, from the comfort of your armchairs.

And who is resposible for this bloody can of worms? Well, that little shite-bag of a Syrian president has got a lot to answer for, but the finger of blame can also be firmly pointed at Francois Hollande and Angela Merkel, who, between them, are rapidly turning Europe into a right old bucket of cow shit.

So it's no wonder that David Cameron and his chums want to get our bums out of Europe, before it's too late. The trouble is, within the ranks of the Tory party, there are certain members who think we should stick with Europe, pull down our barriers and lay out the buns and lemonade for the migrants, who we'll pay to come over to England.

Tonight they're lining up for food in centres run by do-gooders, in Calais, and tomorrow they could be in Kent!

If Hollande had half a brain in his fucked-up head, he would be better off sending this lot packing before turning his attention to the good citizens of Calais, who have all had enough of this. Local residents are afraid to go outside, shops and bars are closing every day and unemployment is soaring through the clouds, as the migrants battle with police, intimidate anyone and everyone and who are desperately trying to get to our shores.

So let's fuck Europe me old chums, before it fucks us. Let's burn that ghastly cow Merkel alive and let's hope that those poor old buggers in Calais may one day get their town back.


Sunday, 24 January 2016


What plans does the fat man have for a failing golf club? Why is Tony serving fast food to earn a living and where is Dave when Tony needs him most? And if Paris is all pavement caf├ęs and smelly people driving badly, just why has Tony got to visit this wonderful city? After love in Vegas, junk food in Florida and beer and roulette in Paris, what can Bordeaux have in store for two of England's worst exports?

All aboard, for we're off to Humourland!

Out now for kindle, five short and amusing tales in one great ebook.

Click here to get your copy.

Monday, 11 January 2016

Destroying Buck

Welcome to Florida!

Here you will find alligators, oranges and a fat man called Tony Joy.

But Tony would rather be back home in London, with his old friend Dave Cooper by his side.

Stuck in a loveless marriage, employed in a grubby fast food restaurant and friendless, it's no wonder that Tony is depressed.

Don't worry Tony, Dave will come to your rescue in your hour of need, and Dave will help you right a few wrongs.

So all aboard with Dave Cooper, in this latest amusing story from Luke Ryman about beer, love and cheeseburgers.

Destroying Buck - out now on Kindle via Amazon

Tuesday, 15 December 2015


...but not forgotten is what we must think of Marine Le Pen.

Defeated in last Sunday's regional elections in France, Le Pen is a victim of the spineless and dithering population which whilst brave enough to vote for Le Pen in the first round of the elections, decided that playing it safe and not ruffling too many feathers was the way to go in the second round.

Shame on all of you who have decided that the way ahead for France is to stick with the same old bullshitters and bastards who seem content to drive this country into the ground.

YOU people are probably the people who think that Angela Merkel is a great leader, and that her efforts to bloat Europe with masses of immigrant dross is what's best for this continent, whilst boosting her own popularity.

Believe me when I say that Merkel is nothing more than a vile manipulator, who seems to have snared Francois Hollande in her web.

YOU people may as well have voted for Father Christmas, because he has the political brain of a no-hoper and the vision of a blind socialist. However, Father Christmas does at least work one day a year, which is one day more than the refugees intend to work, once they get their grubby feet under France's table.

Le Pen would have curbed the influx and would have restored the lost values of France, and she would certainly have put the French people first. YOU people who voted against her have in all honesty voted for the continual destruction of a country which is slowly becoming nothing more than a broken down mess, populated by parasites and idle bastards.

I hope YOU people won't complain when the refugees arrive on your street, because YOU'VE made YOUR bed, so now lie on it!

Vive La France and let's hope that common sense prevails at the next opportunity to change the way that this country is governed.

Thursday, 5 November 2015

Balls, Beer & Bedlam

When Sally Bunting appeared with the drinks she gave Johnny Joy a warm smile.
Put them on my bill,” said Lime, as he took his glass.
Mister Lime,” said Johnny Joy, in a tone which made Lime straighten his back, “I don't believe in bar bills. If a man can't pay for a round of drinks,” said Joy, “then he's better off staying at home.”
Joy then pulled a chunky pile of banknotes from his pocket, and after delicately removing a single note, he duly paid for the drinks.
And take one for yourself, sweetheart,” said Joy, to a Sally Bunting who seemed to be in awe of the wad of notes which the visitor had pulled from his pocket.
Thanks,” she replied.
And keep the change,” said Joy, as he turned his head to admire Sally Bunting's backside, as she returned to the bar.
You're right,” laughed Joy, as he appeared to half empty his glass in one go, “she IS a diamond, but your dickhead of a parking attendant is something else,” grunted Joy.
Oh, no,” replied Lime, coming to the defence of his friend. “That's Derek Smith. He's one of our most respected members.”
He's a dickhead!” repeated Johnny Joy, as he finished his drink.

What's the future of this sleepy seaside town golf club?
Extract taken from "The Clubhouse" - an ebook by Luke Ryman.
Get "The Clubhouse" now, for kindle, via Amazon.

Tuesday, 6 October 2015

Killing and Laughing

Up to the time when he had claimed the first of his victims, there had been no reason for him to have committed murder. The girl – she was twenty-two, with a pretty face and soft skin – had wanted to dance with Ward in a backstreet club. They danced and shared a drink, and when the evening was over and too much alcohol had been consumed by the girl, he had offered to walk her home. It was on that walk to her home that something must have been said, or his advances had been refused.

He hit the girl over the back of her head with a brick and left her to die. Blood ejaculated from her mouth as he slid his right hand inside the front of her jeans. He played with his victim's cunt for five minutes until a barking dog scared the life out of him. It rained heavily that night, and as Ward calmly walked home, he occasionally arched back his head to allow the rainwater to enter his mouth.

And so that had been his first murder. It was a crime which made the news the following day, and the story lingered for a while until it faded away into obscurity. It was a crime that went unsolved, probably because at that time forensic science was not as advanced as it is today. Occasionally, Ward was haunted by the girl's face, but whenever he felt remorse he just laughed, before telling himself that no-one is immortal.

Extract taken from "After Dover" - a short story for kindle, by Luke Ryman

Sunday, 13 September 2015

The MacRefugee

With there them migrants about to hit our shores, the barbecue season coming to an end and the nights slowly drawing in, life in dear old Blighty won't be as good for some time to come - at least until next spring to be precise.

Oh how the thought of autumn and winter sends a shiver down my spine. No more lounging in the garden, no more mowing the lawn, no more beer under the parasol, no more sizzling sausages on the barbecue...

But apart from being deprived of all of these good things, what can one expect from the world of business, politics, sport and entertainment over the coming months?

Well, look out for the latest line from McDonalds: The MacRefugee. This delightful creation can be worn around the neck, is made of plastic, and so acts as a bouyancy aid in the event of one those dinghys, much loved by migrants around the world, capsizing. What's more, because it's plastic, the bun-cum-lifejacket, can't be eaten. What a brilliant innovation, I hear you cry. Quite right too - and in this healthy-eating obsessed world in which we now live, there's no chance that those migrants will become hideously obese, thus making sure that as many of the buggers can be squeezed into their dinghys, for their return journey home.

This vile pervert has plans to release a charity record at Christmas, to raise money for the migrants we're about to receive in Britain. Sir Cliff Richard loves helping others less fortunate than him, and has even decided to house a family of four migrants at his mansion, where the family is able to make use of the billiard table, the home cinema and the olympic-size swimming pool. What a true christian this wonderful man surely is. But then we all said the same about Jimmy Savile...

The boy Hodgson has done well in getting England through to next year's european championship finals, to be held in France. The man is a tactical genius and has a strong pedigree in football management. Firm but fair, I see Hodgson getting his boys to the final, where they'll whip those German buggers in the final. It'll be like 1945 all over again, with Rooney and company fighting in the streets, in the fields and on the beaches. Not even Merkel and her hairy armpits will be strong enough for Roy's Boys. Get behind them, and destroy the beast that is slowly taking over europe.

This buffoon is still running France, but only just. With soaring taxes, high unemployment and misery throughout the land, Francois Hollande has the solution to get his country back on its feet- he's allowing thousands of migrants to set up home in the land of fine wine and cheeses.
The natives are in uproar, but with his popularity rating being lower than ever, this is the time for Hollande to do a Cliff Richard, to boost his image.

It's socialism gone mad, I hear you cry. It's the end of La France, the world replies. Well, we'll have to wait and see...

Other events that could take place before the end of the year:
Wayne Rooney announces that his buttocks were once squeezed by a very drunk Angela Merkel - odds 500/1

Roy Hodgson makes a vile, racist comment concerning the migrants entering Britain - odds 2/1

Cliff Richard turns water into wine and opens a campsite for homeless migrants - odds 2/1

The BBC is shut down after it's confirmed that the organisation is infested with perverts, child molestors and
 overpaid arseholes - odds 10/1

New Labour leader, Jeremy Corbyn, reveals that all migrants will receive apple i-pads, beer and Nike training shoes for Christmas - providing they pledge their loyalty to him and his party of no-hopers - odds 3/1