Home of The Naughty Stories Series
Born in Poole, Dorset, in 1965, Sedley Proctor grew up in London and was educated in Winchester and Nottingham. In the 1990s, he worked in fringe theatre and was involved in productions of Macbeth and Bertolt Brecht’s In the Jungle of Cities. His own play, Salt Lake Psycho about the notorious murderer, Gary Gilmore was put on at the now defunct Man in the Moon theatre in London, Chelsea. From the mid-nineties until 2013 he lived and worked as a teacher and translator in Southern Italy. In Italy he continued to experiment with his writing, devising an invented dialect, writing a blog satirizing the international politics of the early 2000s, collaborating on a screenplay with French writer, Claude Albanese, and performing his poetry in front of bemused locals and amused ex-pats. Apart from his own books, he writes under the aliases F. M. Frites and M. T. Sands.
The new prisoner Seiko decided he did not want the top bunk, which was above the Mute’s. He turned to the Mute and informed him that they were changing places. Then, he picked up the Mute’s blanket and gave it to him. The Mute, however, put the blanket back on his own bunk. “Are you …
In the casino of the cruiser a billet was handed to me on a silver tray. When I found Q’s cabin, I realised I was drowning in bathwater. The bus took her up past the cemetery and through the industrial estate. The road was full of potholes and when the bus went over the bumps …
It is the stranger in you to whom I am now making this – I admit – clumsy appeal. The businessman Achille Lombardo had taken his wife on an all-expense paid trip to Switzerland. After their meal with esteemed colleagues and friends, she made her excuses and left him in the lobby. About fifteen minutes …
Although you are in trouble and everyone is against you, I want you to know that I am, exclusively, on your side. On Behalf of the Good Egg Outside the lawyer’s office a man was kneeling on the pavement, with his arms above his head holding a plastic cup. Rodriguez fumbled in his pocket, put …
The man could not remember anything about his life except that he was once a cook in South Africa. The hospital eventually traced his brother who came to see him. His brother shakes him by the hand, gives him thirty Euros, then says goodbye. (From Doctor Tom Tom’s case studies in Amnesia) When Arturo left …
“Which plane are you flying out on, dad? Is it the Shake’s Plane?” Of course, Simon knew it wasn’t really the Shake’s Plane. Open on the bed was a big, battered and stickered case with straps and dividers. The case was already half-packed with shirts and underwear. Simon watched his father folding a pair of …
I left behind a notebook with sketches, doodles, anecdotes and observations, jokes and one-liners, plus one song the title of which she’d thrown at me in a jokey but disconsolate mood between the turkey and Christmas crackers… When Will and Paul came across the hole in the fence, they left their bikes on the side …
“Something was always jus’ a little off. It was even in his name: William James Maudit.” One afternoon, when I was about fifteen, I took myself off to see American Werewolf in London. For those who do not know this film, at the time it was considered a rather good example of the horror genre. …
The whole effect of his appearance reminded me of an impish faun. His face was heavily made up, his lips violently rouged, and he had on a pair of lurid tights and patent leather shoes with brass buckles, while strapped to his waist appeared to be an instrument of some kind. Suzy was in the …
King Bill or Bull or Rum or Junk or whatever name the sailors happened to give him. It was around 87 when we got our business going. We started with Dad’s steps and a toolbox purchased from a DIY shop on the woodwork in the Hallam’s conservatory. I knew Paul from school and Dez he …