Scissors, Paper, Stone! (1/5) By Bob Spence

(1/5), (2/5), (3/5), (4/5), (5/5).

The Lord Nelson was your typical run-down seventies pub. The decor was in disarray, with half a mind to venerate the Royal Navy's biggest hero or to catch the eye of the potential clientele with the latest fashion. In this manner it achieved neither. Mickey was the prototype glass collector for every barman that ever was. Not bright enough to run it but clever enough to know all the dodges. His fingers stained heavily with nicotine, his face creased unshaven and a cynicism that carried into every effort of conversation.

'He's the man. I'm tellin ya. It's the same as the hundred yards, we know the man is quicker than yesterday's so what's the difference?' 'The trouble with your sports fan today is that it doesn't realise that your Rocky Marcianos were just as tough as your Joe Bugners.' 'Of course you can easily compare Wor Jackie to Supermac too but the game has moved on man, like everything else.'

If the root of the conversation wasn't football or gambling it fed off the previous night's entertainment. Unlicensed boxing flourished in Newcastle and Scottie Burns had defeated the Londoner 'Mad Stan The Man' Glover and today's conversation commenced with who was the hardest Geordie ever.

Little Tony Christian always bemoaned that his favourite Geordie fighters never got the chances against the Southern softies, and Freddie Hawkins originally from Croydon would defend Henry Cooper the ex-British champion. North versus South. Predictable conversation. As ever Mickey looked for tabs and spare baccy. But he listened. 'Mickey what do you think. Is it Hooker McDonald at the Volunteer or Woody at the Queen? If you had to place a bet who would it be?'

Mickey shrugged. 'It would be close.' A voice rose at the back. 'Come on Mickey, would you say that Woody is tougher than old Tommy Mulgrew who stood at the Bold Dragoon back in the 40s?'. Tommy Mulgrew.

Tommy had managed to survive Dieppe in 42 and the 44 landings, and these clowns compared him to some body builder who flexed his biceps at the tarts on the Stockton High Street. 'Sure, Tommy were tough and Woody is a big bloke, but sometimes you lads are talking about comparisons that just don't fit right. Maybe you are comparing Union Rugby with league?''

'It was a tougher breed of Geordie then were it Mickey?' 'No, I'm thinkin' of another bloke. Ever see the film Shane? I suppose not.' Mickey's mind drifted back to another time and to a man who would have not been seen dead in the Lord Nelson. In those days your main man was Crockford. Brian Crockford, a very dapper man was Brian. Crockford had received a dishonourable discharge for smuggling in '46 and had his name against 7 public houses, and owned a haulage company based in Peterlee. He had been a Major in REME and was able to somehow buy transport very cheaply, somehow, but it was '47.

Continued ...next page

Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 9 (1886: Hull, Yorkshire) By Frank Beill
	'Not seen nowt like it!' George was sitting on his favourite seat - the kitchen doorstep. 'Them horses was wonderful.' Dinner was over and most of my stew was inside him as well as his own double portion. 'But it was me father.' I was not listening and stamped my foot. Read more...

Fiction - Drowning, Swimming By Joe Hakim
	Keith sat and stared at his wife, who was holding his daughter and staring at the 28" Philips Widescreen TV situated in the corner of his house, on his laminate floor, flanked at either side by his Sony sound system and his X-Box. He was sweating and his head was throbbing - the general effects of the weekend Read more...

Fiction - Any Instructions? By Denis Price
	It wasn't the first time he'd missed the bus. From the Mess to the monitoring hangar was only a quarter of a mile walk, something he relished during the central European summer as the airbase had been carved out of heavily wooded countryside teeming with wildlife. Read more...

Fiction - Feller's in Cut By Maurice Fairfield
	Well that's her gone. You don't remember me do you? I'll have a pint while you're thinking about it. It's me Jack, Harry Fergus's son. Here for the funeral. Thought I'd see her get put under. Not sure why. It's always a laugh though, watching a parson doing a Read more...

Fiction - Second Chances by Nick Quantrill
	Available now, Second Chances is a crime fiction novella set in Hull that is already attracting praise from readers. Influenced by crime fiction heavyweights Ian Rankin and Hull's Robert Edric, Second Chances is set to be a great success. For a taster, see the extract reproduced below, only available Read more...

Fiction - Kat Out of the Bag Chapter Nine By Steve Rudd
	Life is a race against time, didn't you know? Sometimes I'm worn out by my own energy, but as we four walked first towards Langtang, right on through the cosy cluster of weather-beaten buildings and then so far past the village that even the strangely surreal Read more...

Fiction - Welcome To Hellville - Part 4 By Rich Mills
	Addict vaccine, social behaviour training, helicopter strafes overhead, government propaganda drenched lo-fi media docu-slice-of-life info-mercial broadcast, fed straight to your hole. (Written on a Planet Coffee branded paper napkin.) The napkin referred to above was Read more...

Fiction - Fishheads By Michelle Dee
	Monstrous silver and blue -green severed fish heads emerged at the forefront of her mind. Open, close, open, close the gaping mouths. She fancied there were others behind it. Each time the razor sharp teeth were bared she looked into the blacker than Read more...

Fiction - Firm but Fair By Mark Pollard
	Cry-Baby Jim Breaks. He pioneered it, they say. And the hushed, almost ecclesiastical tones of Ken Walton had heralded it's entry into Saturday afternoon folklore: the bright lights of Blackpool and Great Yarmouth, down to the lesser reputes of Ilfracombe and Skegness had all borne witness Read more...

Fiction - Invasion By Bob Spence
	Moody just couldn't stop scratching. His shirt was far too stiff at the edge of the collar and the coarse material was driving him to distraction. You could also say that Moody was distracted anyway. He was waiting for a letter from his fiancee and there was none. Read more...

Fiction - Puzzles By Denis Price
	I've got a really nice room, when the door's closed I feel ever so safe and warm. It's quiet as well, just the swish of the wind in the trees outside. I like the trees; they hide the big tall fence. My watchers say the fence is there to keep me safe, and that's their job too, they're always there Read more...

Fiction - COLD WAR TALES- THE CUBAN MISSILE CRISIS By Denis Price
	The piercing insistent wail of the siren woke him. `For Christ`s sake now what!` Over the tannoy the smooth expensive voice intoned languidly that this was only a drill and that all personnel should continue with their normal duties. He groaned and thought, this is my normal Read more...

Fiction - Kat Out of the Bag Chapter One By Steve Rudd
	Above all else it was ignorance and arrogance that helped me pack my bags. The ignorance and arrogance of myself, that was, and everyone else. I was only interested in people and past-times that furthered humanity. And what was wrong with that? Read more...

Fiction - Scrawls Of The Unexpected By Mark Pollard
	Professor Colin Pillinger, lead scientist on the Beagle II programme, was calm but well pissed off inside. He had been clinging to the idea that his £35 million Mars Probe was stuck in a crater, waiting for some narrow rays of sunlight to banish the shade for a few precious hours each day in order that Read more...

Fiction - A Short Story - The Beaver Stalker By The J.E.M. Cult
	I stepped out into the cold frosty air. I pulled my muffler tighter round my hands and crunched across the frozen grass. Today was the first day of the beaver season- and by golly, I was sure gonna get me one. I love beavers. I can't help it. There's just something about stroking that damp fur that sends me Read more...