Porn stars and serial killers, Nazis and nymphomaniacs, hunchbacks and bare-knuckle boxers: just a few of the disparate cast of characters who call the remote moorland community of Fryupdale their home. These 18 short stories reveal the unflinching truths behind their lonely, sad and sometimes hilarious lives - and why the world beyond village limits will always seem so distant.
e. It was almost a lorry. It was half covered in a tarp, but you could just make out a painted sign peeping out of the end. The air smelled of old bonfires. A chain clanked.
Mad Harry jerked his arm to tell us to follow. We kept in the trees and skirted right round the back so the big truck was nearest.
'Here,' said Mad Harry, and sat down and began opening his back pack.
'See where the tarp's highest?' said Uncle Cyrus, moving close again.
'I reckon that's more than likely the fucking hammer thing.'
'What do you reckon you can hit the bullseye?'
I didn't take my eyes off the tarp. I said, 'easy.'
Uncle Cyrus patted my shoulder. He said, 'make sure you hit it good.'
Mad Harry pulled out the wine bottle. 'Once it's lit, you throw it right away,' he said. I nodded. He placed the cold bottle in my hand. 'Then you run like a bastard.'
'Dogs or no dogs,' added Uncle Cyrus.
'Down there.' Mad Harry flung his arm into
You might find a British slang dictionary useful if you want to give this book a try. Google will point you to several.
Some of these stories tend to be on the raw and brutal side. Which would be OK, if they were also interesting. Some of these stories were fair, but some just did not interest me. And some started out well but then suddenly and unexpectedly ended.
I'm going to rate this with an extra star (3 instead of 2) because I am partly at fault for not having the time or interest to fully translate some of the unfamiliar slang dialect.