Category Archives: The Chronicles of Nat Eb

“£205,” said Klaxon-Schmitt. “£205? Pricey, Sir, but not unreasonable,” said Gertrude, the minister’s personal assistant. “Yes, but only 15%.” “15%??” “Yes. It’s falling every week.” “That’s bad. Last time we had 18%. And it was …” “£193.” Heinz Klaxon-Schmitt had … Continue reading →

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“Trussed?” Sir Godfrey Wolfram-Harbinger, Minister of Justice, started, rudely awoken from a pleasant reverie. Daphne, again; strong, commanding Daphne. He glanced at his damp palms, suddenly surprised that he could so easily move them. “Not ‘trussed’ you filthy fool,” whispered … Continue reading →

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“Sturgeon?” harrumphed Stumpy Regenkurt, chief advisor to the Minister of Economic Decline. People had recently started calling Regenkurt Shorty instead of Stumpy, because the government’s policy of managed economic decline gave him so much opportunity for shorting stocks. Rumours had … Continue reading →

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Nat Eb blew gently through the top of his cappuccino – first one in the week and it was already Thursday. Little flecks of froth alighted his nose. He was sitting by the roaring fire in the Crusty Stag with … Continue reading →

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Sir Gordon Haemorrhage loathed Nat Eb. They’d been in shorts at Oakwick School on the Norfolk Coast. Haemorrhage, the budding biologist, taunted Eb with the entrails of roadkill from country lanes. Haemorrhage, the precocious physicist, manufactured lightning in the dormitory … Continue reading →

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