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“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

Don Bentley climbed the marble staircase of the Sun newspaper’s headquarters with slow, deliberate steps. He had seen this imposing stairwell before, in his days as a messenger boy, but had never moved beyond the commissionaire based at a giant marble desk at its base. Now he was on his way, rising step by step, to an interview with the newspaper’s deputy editor, looking for a job as a sub-editor. Bentley wanted to write, be a reporter, but he had been told the quickest way … [Read more...] about Fleet Street at work and play

Don Bentley waited in the rain for a taxi outside the Chronicle building inDavey Street. It had been a long wait. It was bitterly cold as well as raining and taxis were in great demand throughout the city. For patrons, taxis were in short supply. Don Bentley was not complaining, though. A taxi home each night represented a perk that was worth waiting for. In the past only the bigger establishments Bentley had worked for, the BBC and Independent newspaper in London, had … [Read more...] about Taxi for Mr Bentley