Archives for July 2012

Don Bentley could not look at a keyboard without tasting the tarry, sweet tobacco of a Players Navy Cut on his lips, or feel the stinging sensation of blue tobacco smoke in the eyes. The smoke, the rat-tat-tat of the manual typewriter, the clattering of telex machines; it was a heady mix of the journalism of his generation. A journalist without a cigarette dangling from his or her lips, or a smoking fag in an overflowing ashtray, was missing a part of equipment as vital to … [Read more...] about Old habits die hard

NEWS could be as addictive as nicotine or alcohol or any other drug Simon Prince cared to mention. He was a news junkie and he didn’t care if everyone knew it. Prince, or “Princey” as he was known to his colleagues, worked as the chief sub-editor on the sports pages of the Townsville Express, a position that did not require news gathering abilities at all. However, Princey could still spot a news story when many of his colleagues with the title of “reporter” could not, and … [Read more...] about No smoke without ire

“Your round, Bentley,’’ Charles Carruthers proclaimed with his clipped, cultured accent in the main bar of the Red House.  Carruthers was pulling rank again, letting Bentley know that he was born to rule, and born to be bought drinks. More often than not Don Bentley would oblige. Ace reporter John Gerard merely told Carruthers to get fucked. It was a lesson in the English social order that was not lost on an Australian backpacker journalist marking time on the Woking News … [Read more...] about Born to rule

Bentley peered out of the windows of the bus taking him to work. The wire mesh covering the glass obscured his view but he knew he was in a danger zone.  Bentley had lived with danger for a decade in Africa. Now he was living with danger on the streets of East London. It wasn’t so different really. In Africa he had exposed himself to risk as part of his job, and now the same thing was happening in the name of earning a crust. Bentley couldn’t see out of the windows of the … [Read more...] about Fleet Street of the sky

The phone rang two or three times and Don Bentley was not in a hurry to lift it. He sat at the only seat in the sub-editors’ department of The Star, Johannesburg, and the ringing phone was a constant nuisance. As the newest recruit to the subs’ team, the phone and answering it went with the turf. ``Hello, subs,’’ said Bentley eventually, abruptly, irritation in his voice ``Ello,’’ said the man at the other end of the line. He spoke with a heavy Afrikaans accent.   ``I want … [Read more...] about Newspaper heaven in the platteland