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Last Updated: 28/08/2006 14:27:04
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Debit Column By Patrick Henry
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Raymond, abrasively-witty, biography-reviewing journalist, worked during endless pub-going; volumes under arm; notes mental or beer-mat-jottings; from Five AM. around Smithfield Market, through mid-day Fleet Street, Soho; to evening Chelsea, exhausting his trail home. Early hours meant snatched sleep and eating; columns grittily-written: cold turkey! Five A.M. his taxi reached Smithfield again.
I won his journal's competition to review The Telephone Directory in any author's style; aping Raymond by invoking pub-names (Lord Palmerston, etc.) as if biography-subjects. Scolded by lampooned Raymond, I stood him brandies, costing the prize-money, but launching my satirical career. Drink killed him. Saloons, readerships remembered his style.
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Send your entries to hundredwords@thisisull.com
and we'll print them.
We'll even send out some gifts for the best ones ...
So get scribbling and send them in, and remember to mark your entries: One Hundred Words.
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Fiction - 100 Words Competition - The 1st One Hundred Words Are The Hardest By Rich Mills
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He'd started that first sentence many times, deleting it and starting over again.
The cursor blinked in the corner of the screen, taunting him, daring him to write something.
He stared at, became hypnotized by it. Time ticked by, blink, blink, blink.
His mind was just blank, blank, blank.
Then in a sudden rush to fill the white expanse with black he started banging away at
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Fiction - End Of The Line By Nick Quantrill
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This is how it happened...
I was driving down Lowgate. There's got to be a better way than this, I thought to myself. But then I saw her, clinging to a lamppost, holding her hand out as her friend tried to stop her from falling over. I indicated and pulled over; she would do nicely. Her friend bundled her into my car.
No respect for anything, least of all herself, I thought
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Fiction - Another Brick In The Wall, Another Man In The Crowd By Steve Rudd
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'It doesn't look any different on this side,' the disembodied voice yelled over the void.
'I never said that it would look any different. But I bet it feels different,' ventured an old man's voice on the Eastern side of the wall.
'Not really,' the disembodied voice declared. 'At least not from where I'm standing.'
To some people, the momentous fall of the Berlin Wall signified freedom
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Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 2 Chapter 2 By Frank Beill
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It was too late in the day to visit Tweed Street school - the children and their teachers would be long gone by now. This left only the address I'd been given for George. Hessle Road was not a long walk from Princes Avenue but a tram ride was quicker or to be precise two tram rides were: one into the city centre and one back out again to get me to my destination.
All the old reactions
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Fiction - The Service By Joe Hakim
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I'm a professional. I get the job done.
It's already getting dark as I arrive at the station. I make my way past the perimeter fence and park my car in the shelter. So begins the process of shedding everything that makes me who I am, in order to become somebody else.
You can never tell what kind of night it's going to be, so even now after all this time the anticipatory adrenalin
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Fiction - The Emporium of Illusions By Andy Bilton
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I cannot decide which foam bath to put in to the tub. Mood, I feel, is an important player in a first date situation and I do not want to fold at the first hand by getting in to the wrong one before tonight's encounter.
So do I pour in some of the Marks & Spencers 'Tranquility' that has an unnerving resemblance to Rowntree's Lime Jelly and 'treat myself to an indulgent bathing
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Fiction - The Horrible Death of Tony Clare: Retribution and Revolt By Sean Davey
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Tony Clare, British Premier, bringer of war, pestilence, famine and social impotence, died today. Killed by an unknown man. A man driven not by his hatred for the Prime Minister, but by his own need to right the wrongs that Tony Clare's society was responsible for.
A society which neglected its own people, raped the land, taxed the workers and killed the innocent.
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Fiction - Dig Your Own Hole By Joe Hakim
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Things were going well. We were on schedule and under budget, Chris Chambers, so my boss was chuffed to bits. "It's going to be a good year," he said slapping me on the back, a huge shit-eating grin plastered across his face. As he looked around the building site, he tipped back his hard-hat and his chest expanded like a proud father watching at his children running around.
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Fiction - Load the Cards By Sean Davey
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Loading up the cards and I start thinking. I think about casino's, and all that is.
Imagine a building dear reader, where degenerate, and often eccentric behaviour is not only the norm. its positively encouraged. Heavy drinking and gambling is as much a part of the punters mind as work, or going for a meal. Its just what they do to get their kicks.
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Fiction - Charity Begins in the Toilet By Shep
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Like most stories this one starts at the beginning with a middle aged man kissing a middle aged woman on the middle of the lips. I'm not sure where the middle starts or ends but I'm fairly sure its centre is an equal distance from these two extremes.
The man's head jacks back and forth like a mother bird trying to vomit out some nourishment to her
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Fiction - Goths in Denim (I only dress like a Goth!) By Jason Ince
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'That can't be the time!' I scream, staring at the clock-slash-radio-slash-CD player. This is the last time I try a DVD marathon within one day, I'll kill Stanny for suggesting it to me. The phone starts to vibrate before the ringtone kicks in. It's Clark's tone...again, 'damn you, Clark!'
I charge across the room and leap over the chair and snatch the mobile.
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Fiction - Absinthe - A Cautionary Tale By Sean Davey
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In pursuit of the perfect high, man invented absinthe, and I among others regularly enjoy its powerful effects. But on some days, store-bought brands are far too timid for the task at hand. On these days we need the homemade stuff.
Created in garages and lofts, jam packed with wormwood and all those other alpha-terpenes to get the brain synapses into full gear.
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Fiction - Punishment By Nick Quantrill
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Punishment by local crime-fiction writer and thisisull.com contributor,
Nick Quantrill, has won a nationwide short-story competition run by HarperCollins.
Entrants were invited to submit a story of no more than 1,000 words in the
crime-fiction/thriller genre.
Here's what the judges had to say about Punishment :
'We were impressed with the use of
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Fiction - Friday Feeling By Nick Quantrill
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Friday 3pm
It was building up to being another busy Friday afternoon shift. It was probably no busier than any other shift, but the extra tiredness that Detective Constable Maynard felt by this point made them feel that much longer. He had been sent to Young's general store in East Hull straight after attending a suspicious death over on the other side of the city.
It was
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Fiction - The Morning After By Joe Hakim
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They'll be here soon.
There's nothing much to do other than wait, so I make another strong cup of coffee and light
up another cigarette. Even these seemingly arbitrary actions are cast into a new focus now.
This patch of time I'm occupying is a bridge - a bridge that spans the space between
the way my life used to be and the way it's going to be. I look around my living room
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Fiction - In A Room By Joe Hakim
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I wish there were bars so I could hold them, wrap my fingers around the cold steel and press my face in between them, but it's just a room, I'm in a dark room with no windows and no features, so I just sit and think and think and think.
I am a captive, a hostage in a foreign country. I'm apart from my family and friends and I don't know if I'll ever see them again.
Every so
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Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 2: Prologue (June 1904: Hull, Yorkshire) By Frank Beill
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From the outside the two-storey building looked even more forbidding now than the first time I saw it. Eighteen more years of Hull soot had turned bricks from red to dark brown. The dank smell of Grandmother's skirt returned to me. I caught my breath. So many emotions stirred inside me. Doors in my mind that I'd kept closed for so long were opening again but this time
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Fiction - Buried In The Past By Joe Hakim
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Arriving back in Hull, the first thing that hits me is just how much hasn't changed.
As I walk down Princes Ave, I look at all the café bars that have sprang up to replace
the odd little shops and businesses that used to line it, but it still feels the
same somehow. There's a kind of progress, I suppose - even if progress means it's
starting to resemble everywhere else in Britain -
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Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 21 (1886: Hull, Yorkshire) By Frank Beill
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The extra twenty-four hour wait only made me more desperate than ever to discover what had become of my old friends. It didn't feel right to be back and not be with them. They were Hull to me. I needed to see them and for them to see me. Would they believe little Sammy could have grown so much? Would I be as tall as George now?
My friends were all I wanted
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Fiction - Red Carpet Blues By Steve Rudd
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'One more word out of you, and it'll be your last - I promise.'
The ice-cold gun nudging Ellie's temple was motivation enough for her to keep her mouth shut, as she trembled with fear. She daren't even sob in case her captor construed that any form of noise was reason enough to blow her brains out without further ado.
So much for being a superstar in her own right,
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Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 20 (1886: Hull, Yorkshire) By Frank Beill
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The deck rose and fell beneath my feet. My moccasins were meant for the solid earth of the Dakotas, not a slippery wooden deck in an Atlantic storm. I continued focusing on the infant pony and repeated all the psalms and hymns I could recall. Words that were drilled into me. I never thought they'd ever be of any use, other than to avoid Jolly Rodgers'
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Fiction - 'I Do' By Steve Rudd
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Nobody told me marriage would be like this. I thought it would be bliss, day in and day out,
but problems soon surfaced, after our hastily arranged elopement in good old Gretna - that bizarre little settlement that straddles the border between England and Scotland as though it can't quite decide where it stands; where it belongs; which side of the metaphorical fence it is
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Fiction - Two Sides : A Friday Night Out In Hull By Joe Hakim
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I'm just finishing off at work, watching the clock and loading the pot-wash with plates and cups,
waiting for Sarah to start her shift so I can go home.
It's been a really busy day, so I'll be glad to see the back of the fuckin' place.
I've been working at Sparks cafè bar on Newland Ave for over a year, but it's only been in
the past couple of months it's got really busy.
Fridays are
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Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 19 (1886: Hull, Yorkshire) By Frank Beill
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Was it my imagination or were dark clouds hanging over the Persian Monarch the next morning?
I feared the worst. Heavy feet climbed the wooden steps to my hero's saloon.
As before Red Shirt, Dog That Stands and Laughing Waters were there in support of my case.
We entered the cabin and my spirits rose. Nate Salsbury wasn't there and Miss Arta was
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Fiction - Complicity Part 6 By Nick Quantrill
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Complicity is the new crime-fiction novella set in Hull featuring
Detective Sergeant Coleman and Detective Constable Maynard.
The thisisull.com serialisation is accompanied by the stunning black and
white photography of Roland Standaert, which illustrates the story and takes a unique look at the city.
Complicity and other stories are available for free.
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Fiction - Gloomy Sunday By Joe Hakim
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As we got closer I could see it framed against the horizon. From this distance it just looked like a huge black shape, like a giant lump of coal or something. "Jeezus, it's huge," I said. "Yeah, I'm guessing it's a male," Mike said. "Could be about fifty tonnes of whale washed up down there." Mike was a marine biologist.
He'd been given the task of studying
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