Don Knowler

Tired of ping-pong, Don Bentley left the table tennis players at the Chronicle to their game one night and  wandered across the road in his break to Mahoney’s pub and sat at the bar. The juke-box, which usually filled the pub with music, was quiet this night and when Don Bentley looked about him he saw that he was the only patron in the bar. The barmaid was new, she didn’t know Bentley, and so there was no one to make conversation with. A pub without conversation, a pub … [Read more...] about Going down slow

A SHADOW drifted across the far end of the long, dark passageway and Don Bentley stopped, surprised that someone else should have been down there in the printing works at this hour. Bentley strained his eyes to identify the shape in the near darkness, at the far end of the passageway where the light from a single light bulb at its entrance barely penetrated. The shadow moved out of sight and Bentley called out, softly at first as if not wanting to disturb the silence down … [Read more...] about The spirit in the press room

The bank note fluttered against the side of the kerb, the breeze tossing it over so it showed the magic figure of “100’’ .  The journalists from the night shift of the Chronicle were on their way to their evening break, and Colin Clerk was the first to see the hundred-dollar bill. It was a summer’s night and the crisp new bill stood out in the twilight. Colin looked quickly about him to see if someone might have dropped it, then leapt off the pavement and scooped it up in … [Read more...] about A forger’s tale

The editor came into the room waving a brand-new table tennis bat, spongy on one side and hard on the other. His jaunty walk, and his swishing of the bat, said he meant business. “Right, who’s for a thrashing?’’ he shouted, attempting to take off his tweed jacket. As it slid from his shoulders one arm, caught on the bat that was still in his hand. “Bugger,’’ he said, as one of the sub-editors who had been playing rushed forward to help. “Leave it, leave it,’’ the editor … [Read more...] about An editor with tricks up his sleeve

THE ping-pong ball bounced across the table tennis table, bouncing once on the floor and then sailing through an open window. It could be heard pinging in the cobbled alleyway below, two floors down. “Bugger,’’ said the player serving, gazing at the open window.  “Bruce,’’ he shouted sharply. A copy messenger came running into the room from the newsroom of the Chronicle beyond.  “Fucking ball’s gone out the window again. Go and get it,’’ said the server. Without saying a … [Read more...] about A newspaper lost in time