The Secret Army Aeroplane
Tally-ho! With high jinx and jolly japes, Rupert Millar conjures up the close of the Edwardian age, a time of dashing heroes and dastardly villains, the brink of the storm over Europe in sight…
Browsing: The Idler
One Night in the Summer
“I felt my way across the stream but by the time I had got to the path I knew that it was unlikely I could do this.” Harry and his faithful Frodo chance an evening walk in the last of the light…
Advice
Introducing a short piece of fiction for the Bank Holiday weekend, in which Zhara Mulroy considers the conundrum of first impressions and past influences on a first date…
A Bright Moon For Fools
Described by Michael Palin as “very funny, very unpleasant and very touching at the same time”, we have an exclusive extract from the debut novel by Jasper Gibson…
I am Spartacus!
Harry Chapman battles with his inner demons and an unquenchable thirst for silence during a screening of Spartacus at the BFI…
Damascus 1939
“A restlessness pervaded his slightest movements as he sat behind a desk in the small dusty office that overlooked the minarets of the Near East. The call of the muezzin cried and wailed in the distance…”
Beauty and the Beast
“It’s dark. I am naked, dripping in hot oil. Heavy breathing and panting fills the basement as hands move quickly up my slippery thighs.” A candid insight in to the wonderful world of spa reviewing…
Short Fiction: Henry Bird
“Henry Bird stood on the front step of his house. His hand still held the key in the lock of the front door. He always shut the door with the key, turning it in the lock to avoid that bang which set his teeth on edge.”
The Pond
“Thursday last, at the pond, early morning, at about a quarter to eight. Sun grins down on me, the first sunny day in a long time. A nascent but confident Sun, full of vitality and young strength.”
Boot in Bellagio
William Boot, he of unfortunate experiences on foreign shores, manages to find the only corner of northern Italy best left forgotten…
Strangers on a Train
“It was nearly two weeks ago. A Saturday. I was catching an evening train down to Barham. The day was damp and drizzly and the tube and station were crawling with the strident remnants of a football match.”