Monday, 19 January 2015

Static






"...these days I move around a lot more than before, and so when Tony gave me a stolen underground season ticket, it made me smile. He said that I no longer had to remain static. I didn't even know what static meant, but when Dave explained to me, I laughed. I prefer Tony to Dave, because Tony is like me – he would steal from his own mother, and to hell with the consequences. He's idle, a drinker and doesn't care about what he says. Dave likes to give the impression that he's the same as us, but he's never been a pickpocket, and for me he's too cocky. The other thing with him is that he'll never look in your eyes when he talks to you, whereas Tony will stare at you, to show you that he doesn't give a fuck about how big you are, or who you are, because he's just the same."
As told by Glen - a hard bastard from north London who prefers to have friends like Tony Joy rather than Dave Cooper.




Two's company but three is certainly a crowd. Meet Glen, Tony and Dave in "Dad Drove A Bus", "The Londoners", "The Londoners 2 - After Love Comes Hate" and "The Londoners 3 - No Turning Back."

The Londoners: A series of ebooks for Kindle about the loves and lives of some unpleasant men.

Thursday, 8 January 2015

Little Angel



The buck-toothed girl – there, at the table just beside him, playing cards with her parents and her little brother – was so ugly, that no-one would mourn her passing. Her teeth made her look ugly. Her acne made her look ugly. Her supermarket clothes made her look ugly. The way she spoke made her sound ugly. No-one, he reassured himself, would mourn her passing. No, what he wanted – and what he wanted more than anything in the world, at that very moment in time - was to take the life of someone whose death would bring a family to its knees. What he wanted, as the swell of the English Channel gently rocked the ferry from side to side, was to bring heartache and misery to a family. So what he had to do, he knew, was to kill a pretty child, to deprive a family of its little angel.

Little angel is how parents of murdered children refer to their butchered and raped offspring, when men like Peter Ward live out their wildest fantasies. He knew this was true, because he had read so many newspaper articles over the years on the subject. The headlines would read: OUR LITTLE ANGEL IS NOW IN HEAVEN or SHE IS NOW WITH THE ANGELS. And then, without fail, a photo of the smiling angel would be beneath those tear-jerking words, for all the world to see. And when all the world saw that little girl, and understood that she was now with the angels, the reaction of horror, grief and sadness would be the same the world over.

Sunday, 4 January 2015

After Dover


There's a killer on the rampage and he has no time to lose. Death and destruction he will bring to those who cross his path, and to hell with the consequences. In forty-eight hours Peter Ward will destroy many lives. The world would be better off without him - but right now, somewhere in England, the world is his for the taking.

Catch him if you can, before it's too late...

Click here to get your copy of this short story about a cold-blooded killer. After Dover by Luke Ryman. Available for Kindle via all Amazon stores.

Thursday, 25 December 2014

Sabotage


    Boredom soon set in. There's not much excitement to be had from stacking boxes and making sure that a machine is doing its job. But at least I was left alone. Occasionally, when I wasn't being watched by my other colleagues, I took great pleasure from smashing my fist into the boxes of shortbread, before stacking them on a pallet. I punched hard at the boxes, smashing the fragile biscuits, and destroying the company's reputation. I then took a tissue from my pocket, and after spitting phlegm into it, I squeezed the tissue into a carton. It was a disgusting act of sabotage, but as with Fat Mary's fall, it made me laugh. Then I gave another solid punch, a whack, and another tissue was slipped into another box. Phlegm and broken shortbread. The client wouldn't be happy.
Dave Cooper is intent on destruction. Extract taken from "4 Years In London" - an ebook for kindle by Luke Ryman.


Monday, 22 December 2014

Depressed, from London


I couldn't sleep the night before my first day at the biscuit factory. I felt ill and depressed when I realised that my days of being unemployed were rapidly coming to an end. Jill was asleep, next to me, snoring heavily and twitching violently. She must have been having a dream. Perhaps she was dreaming of me – her lover – and in her slumber she was elated that in a few hours I would be going to work for the first time in four years. I wanted to shit myself. I felt like shitting myself in the bed. That's how bad I felt. I looked at the clock on my bedside table. It was two minutes to midnight. In two minutes the wait would be over. I would be going to work today – in five hours – to earn some money, so that I could pay for things, just like Jill did. I didn't want to go to work. I wanted to stay at home and do nothing. I was a free man, and I could do what I wanted to do. I had fucked Jill enough, and now I was getting bored with her. Tomorrow, I thought, I would leave her, and return to the flat I once shared with Tony. We would then go to the pub, drink heavily, and I would pretend that Jill had never existed. But I couldn't do that, because I loved Jill too much. I looked at her as she slept and told myself that she deserved better that that. I then looked at clock again. It was six minutes past midnight. In just under three and a half hours I would be out of our bed and getting ready for work. I looked up at the ceiling and wanted to cry. It was all too much to handle.
Dave Cooper is sick to the stomach, for tomorrow he will start his new job in a biscuit factory. He doesn't want to go to work, but if he wants to keep his lover happy, bake cookies is what he must do.
Extract from "4 Years In London" by Luke Ryman - out now on Kindle.

Monday, 8 December 2014

Xciting Gifts dot Com


Stuck for ideas on what to get your other half for Christmas? Too lazy to venture outside and tackle the throbbing masses in the department store aisles? Or looking for something a little different to make your gift stand out from the rest? Then worry no more, because gifts to bring a smile to a face near you is what this site is all about.

Gentlemen, with Christmas Day almost upon us, why not take the plunge and treat your girl to a pair of panties.
In terms of originality, we know that panties are nothing new, but with so many colours and designs to choose from, you're sure to find a pair that brings a smile to your lady's face. BLACK, SKIMPY and TRANSPARENT are the key words to tap into our dedicated search engine, together with the size and your credit card number. What woman will not be delighted with such a thoughtful and useful gift?

Chocolate body paint made from 95% cocoa beans and dry-roasted almonds seems too good to smear over your loved one's torso, but this little jar of edible emulsion is nothing like the chocolate paste your kids like to spread on their sandwiches. After showering together, lowering the lights and pouring the champagne, what could be a better way to spend Christmas than covering her curves with this wonderful and wicked pot of paint?



The French are allergic to the stuff - as a Parisian's appalling body odour will confirm - but reports show that soap is here to stay in Britain. Coming in a variety of sizes and scents, this slippery little stocking filler is an ideal way for your girl to wash away chocolate body paint.



  




An on the fourth day, God invented lager. Well, this isn't quite right, but most men will agree that a pint of lager during the festive period is just right to keep things ticking merrily along. I bet you didn't know that the world record for lager consumption on Christmas Day stands at one hundred and eighty-five pints, and that this hideous record was achieved by a man from Leeds in 2013. Lager is here to stay, and coming in cans or bottles, ladies, lager is panties in a glass.


Football is a game which all men love. So during the holiday season, ladies, let your man indulge in his passion, without nagging him to death. He'll be good enough to let you watch the special edition of Strictly Come Dancing, so play fair with him, and let him spent ninety minutes with Wayne Rooney and co.
Merry Christmas!

Wednesday, 26 November 2014

Friday Night




The constant supply of fizzy drinks was a great benefit of having a mum who worked in a pub, but one of the downsides was having to spend Friday nights with our neighbour, who looked after me, whilst mum worked and dad stood on the other side of the bar, getting drunk. I often pleaded with my parents that I was old enough to look after myself, and that our neighbour had her own two kids to look after. But my words fell on deaf ears, and so every Friday night, at about seven o'clock, I was frogmarched to the house next door, where Mrs Green welcomed me, and looked after me, until my mother collected me later in the evening.

The Greens had two cats, who pissed throughout the house, giving it a disgusting odour, that headed directly for my nostrils as soon as Mrs Green had waved my mother off and closed the door behind me. And if the smell of feline urine wasn't enough to leave me feeling sick, the smell of whatever it was the family had eaten, just before my arrival, certainly did. But there was no escape from the house from hell, and after I had managed to get use to the terrible smell, I was forced to spend the evening playing Monopoly with Mrs Green, and her two sons, whilst Mr Green sat in front of the television, drinking bottled beer, whilst watching something that made him laugh occasionally.

Cats pissing, playing games and drinking beer - when Tony Joy was a young boy in need of a good hiding.

Extract from "Dad drove a bus" - out now for Kindle via Amazon