Life throws a spanner into the works.

At times like this, writing stories, however much they mean to me, means nothing in the big scheme of things. The only positive slant I can take from this moment in history is that perhaps we’ll stop hating ourselves and despising our own values. And perhaps our leaders will stop surrendering to managed decline. Perhaps we’ll re-enter the real world. I’d like to think so.


I touch on this putative change to the world order from an English perspective in the fourth Mark Barrett story Gun Jesus (I’m busy editing the first draft). Mark has been offered a job flying the Regiment to trouble spots and he’s chatting with special forces officer Tom Jarvis about Britain’s role in the world.

‘It’s not all bad news; England was always better as a small, independent nation. The Empire was a mistake, the East India Company metastasized and we ended up owning half the fucking world, a role for which we were barely qualified. I doubt we’ll make that schoolboy error again. I’m hoping we’ll go back to doing what we do best.’
‘Which is?’
‘Drinking beer, taking the piss, and making a barely legal living as an international pirate state.’