Tag Archives: repro

149. Underhand Lob

Here he comes, rocking a straw sombrero and a pair of knock-off Ray Bans, pulling a pallet of paper that defies gravity at every corner, his demeanor defiant, shouting ‘pal’ and ‘mate’ and ‘cunt’ at everyone with the same split-melon … Continue reading

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132. Clock Springs

Hey Dave. What you doing? Drawing. Yeah? I didn’t know you could draw. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Luci. I’m a man of many talents. I have no doubt about that whatsoever. You draw a lot? Yeah, … Continue reading

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121. Whole Lotta Rosie

My phone is ringing on Friday in 1995. It’s my mate, Genuflect. He says “Here, Luci, fancy nipping up to Newcastle tonight?” I say “Sounds good. Got anywhere to stay?” He says “Not yet. Fancy trying your hand?” So I … Continue reading

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112. Pearly Clean

“Morning Luci.” “Morning Sasquatch. How you doing?” “Fair to shit. Here, take a look at this.” Phone pictures. “She’s pretty, Sasquatch. Who is she?” “My new bird. Shirley.” “Very nice. Lovely blonde hair, I see.” “Yeah. Blonde.” “Indeed. And she … Continue reading

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109. Sheepish.

I walked through platemaking, but there wan’t a platemaker to be seen. You’d usually find Weasel in his corner, mug of tea in his bony fist, crouched over the Racing Post with a greasy stub of pencil, making notes in … Continue reading

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107. Don’t Let me be Misunderstood.

I found Reg fascinating. Proper old school, white bread sandwiches with grey meat every single day, heavy coat whatever the weather, didn’t queue by the punch-clock but polished his print press with a rag until the final bell, Brylcreemed hair … Continue reading

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106. Four Minutes.

“Aye, it’s funny the stuff you remember,” he said. Bernie was crouched over a circuit board, huge hands deftly dabbing a soldering iron onto contacts, little wisps of smoke drifting up from the quivering silver. “I always went to the … Continue reading

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