This novel is something a little different for me. It is a satire set in the UK at the present moment. There are striking parallels between these days and the 1930s. There’s a lot of racist people around who are crawling out of the woodwork as they have been encouraged by the implications of the Brexit vote.
As he arrived home early, Tompkins showered and changed. He checked for pigeons and replied to a dozen messages. He then sent his own pigeon ‘Houdini’ to Miss Scarlett asking for a reply within two days, detailing her findings in the matter of Stalky Stark.
Tompkins stormed round to The Glitz Bar and ordered a cocktail before heading over to the table where his friend, Dr. Black, was reading The Times.
“Hello, Doc” said Tompkins, “how’s it hanging today?”
Dr. Black, whose real name was Trevor Evans-Jones, smiled at the exuberance of his friend, whom he’d known since Varsity days. Dr. Black was 6 feet tall with brown hair and an easygoing nature. He exerted a calming influence on those around him.
“Well, Tomcat, you ask the right coded question as usual – you must have a phenomenal memory to keep all those codes in your head all the time. Yes, the man I believe you refer to as Stalin 2.0 is coming here and will arrive at the end of this month – he will visit places up north such as Boston, Leicester, and Manchester. Boston is interesting because they voted for Brexit and yet, and yet, the blighters are recruiting Poles and the like to help them with their cause.”
“Talk about using people for your own ends,” said Tompkins, “I quite admire them for that, y’know. Communists in Boston, well who’d of thought it? That’s where the Pilgrim Fathers came from or started their journey I believe.”
“Clever subterfuge if you ask me,” replied Dr. Black, sipping his whisky. Tompkins quaffed his cocktail and signalled ‘Tufty’ Stevens, the barman, that he’d like another.
“Any idea in which order he will visiting these places?” asked Tompkins.
“Manchester first, then Leicester, finishing at Boston and then back to Russia.”