Tomcat Tompkins – 44

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.


Chapter 3 –  26th June – Morning

            “So, this is what the world looks like at 10am,” said Tompkins to himself as he barrelled along towards Scotland Yard and Spiffy Wiffy’s office, “I’m not sure I could do this regularly, I mean it’s so bright and people seem happy. On the other hand, the only people around are our foreign brethren – I haven’t heard an English accent, an actual, real, genuine, top-of-the-morning-guvnor true cockney accent at all. It’s so sad.”

Tomcat mulled over the pigeon news he’d received overnight. Bertie had arrived again and this time there was only a four-word message in the casket – “Muffled – Must Talk – Lunch”. Miss Scarlett had done the work with her usual élan, Tomcat was sure of that. Even now Miss Scarlett was heading back to base, leaving no trace of her presence at Stalky’s place in the country. Stalky Stark would soon start the next stage of his voyage through eternity, perhaps as a wildebeest on the African savannah or a piranha in the River Orinoco.

He’d arranged lunch details with Bertie’s owner and then given the pigeon a decent breakfast before sending it back. The pigeon seemed appreciative of the protein-packed oatmeal he’d eaten, flying vertically for 50 feet before zooming off in a southern direction. Tomcat thought there was nothing finer than an English racing pigeon flying through the blue clouds of a summer morning in London. His heart pounded patriotically as he entered the portals of Scotland Yard to meet his friend.

Tompkins strode along the corridor and hammered politely on the Deputy-Commissioner’s door before putting his head around the door and mouthing “It’s only me” to the startled secretary.

Tiffany Kemble managed to smile at Tompkins. Her heart was thumping against her ribcage. She’d thought the office was being demolished by an earthquake, such was the force of the knocking on the door.

“Hello, Tiffers, how are you?” asked Tompkins, “you look startled, everything alright?”

Published by Julian Worker

Julian was born in Leicester, attended school in Yorkshire, and university in Liverpool. He has been to 94 countries and territories and intends to make the 100 when travel is easier. He writes travel books, murder / mysteries and absurd fiction. His sense of humour is distilled from The Marx Brothers, Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, and Midsomer Murders. His latest book is about a Buddhist cat who tries to help his squirrel friend fly further from a children's slide.

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