From the desk of the Godfather

This piece appeared on TwoFiftyOne.

An enchanted evening

Living abroad can be an alienating experience, not least during a pandemic. As I have discovered since moving from London to rural Germany, making new friends is one of the biggest challenges. Tempting as it might have been to wallow in my isolation, I resolved to get out there and connect with some similarly minded people my own age. After spotting a curious flyer pasted on my local children’s hospital, I knew just where I would find my people: my local Quidditch team. 

Real Folks of Hessen #246

I may not be the best contract killer out there, but I am certainly the cheapest. And yet, almost nobody ever books me to do their killing. At this point I’ve tried everything, from “Order a hit, get one free”, to a trial period of free slayings, but people always take advantage and never end up paying for my services. 

Moon lighting

People ask me all the time: What’s it like to stand just to the side of history, one step away from greatness? Well, it’s a thrill! I’ve been working as an ass double for six years now, mostly unpaid and sometimes unknowingly, and my caboose has been utilised as a looky-likey for some of the most famous tushies in Showbusiness, from Ethan Hawke to Mary Beard. I even filled in for Eddie Redmayne’s backside when he came down with a severe case of seat rash while filming The Theory of Everything.

A man I knew has died

Norman Crankshaw, who died aged 86 after a lifelong battle with what we suspect might have been Tourette’s, was in many ways a remarkable man, and in other, more accurate ways an unsuccessful one. He was also my great-uncle, and since his passing I have been unable to find the words, or the time, to articulate just what he meant to me.