Emile had the face of one who had stared into the abyss at exactly the moment the wind had changed
By Jeremy Clarke
While our guests laid into Boris and Dominic Cummings, the birthday boy and I played with matches
By Jeremy Clarke
If there’s a televised match on somewhere in the world, the communist bar will be showing it on the big screen with the volume turned up
By Jeremy Clarke
Our place settings were as widely spaced as the surrounding Provençal geography
By Jeremy Clarke
Perhaps this boozy convivial affair will shake me out of my macabre state
By Jeremy Clarke
As we all sat in the waiting room, we wondered what social enormity the doctor might commit next
By Jeremy Clarke
After I’d partaken of this cocktail with Mary Wakefield, I had my first encounter with a speechless Boris Johnson
By Jeremy Clarke
I need to have a stent removed from my urethra — and pronto
By Jeremy Clarke
Michael took an imaginary draft and did that thoughtful, rabbity connoisseur’s tasting thing with his mouth
By Jeremy Clarke
Stoned out of our minds on a few puffs, we watched in awed silence, hanging on her every word, every clause, every sentence
By Jeremy Clarke
Among partying druggies, the trust that has disappeared from every level of society is fully present
By Jeremy Clarke
‘There is no ethnicity here now’, said my escort Eric, moments before I shot headfirst over the handlebars
By Jeremy Clarke
While I was out, she had polished it and positioned it on a glass shelf lit by four spotlights
By Jeremy Clarke
I would be staying in this cottage in the shadow of Wansdyke to see if I wanted to rent it
By Jeremy Clarke
