Postcards from Kronk - the second collection of daily stories. (2025)

"The fall of your country will not occur in one momentous event but rather through a series of small incremental stages. If you can read the signs then you will survive the change. As is written in many holy books, the apocalypse will be heralded by four riders, in the case of North Korea these will be Primark, Currys Digital, Top Shop and Footlocker. Once these appear you will know the end is nigh for each will rip a chasm in your society through which the future, in your case, the superior South will burst through. These angels, these visitors from the south, will float amongst you in golden boots and usher in the new Utopia. Watch the skies and be ready." Chong-Pil finishes reading, rolls up the paper and replaces it in silken recess within the silver egg.  Already a week has passed since it fell upon his head but as a simple farmer he feels ill equipped to deal with such knowledge. Tomorrow night, when his uncle arrives, he will bring him the egg and he will know what t...

Luca eventually surfaced in Ulvila, Finland after travelling for fourteen nights. Toivo Miettinen looked down transfixed as the young german removed his snorkel and crawled out the bowl. After Luca had showered the two shared a plate of smoked Zander and a couple of beers. He explained his world record attempt. " When will the people arrive" Toivo asked, " To confirm your achievement " Luca ignored the question and continued to wolf down the food, indicating with his hand for a second beer. " You did inform them you were attempting the record didn't you, are you being tracked, how will they verify your feat ? " These questions went unanswered, Luca stood and bowed and thanked his host. " Shall I take your photo for when the people come, to show them you were here ? " Toivo asked as he placed the plates in the sink. " OK, that would be good " Luca left shortly afterwards, Toivo still has the picture, it sits on his desk, the ...

The first French socialist gave the only chair in the room to the other man, preferring to stand. This second man, another French socialist took his purse and handed over half the notes to the first man, nodded, produced a bottle of brown liquor, took a slug and offered it to the first. He looked at the notes and the chair and then drank the remainder of the bottle, after a minute studying his seated acquaintance the first man removed his Italian shoes and swapped them for the tatty pair of espadrillos his opponent had kicked off. This surprised the other man but he shrugged his shoulders and held his legs out straight in front of him to appraise his new footwear. The first man waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually the seated man rose to his feet, shook his trousers a little as if to facilitate a gas escape and left the room. The first French socialist was alone, in crappy shoes in a room that smelt of burnt puppies. This is the lesson we must never forget.

The man that knocked on my door looked ashen. " sorry to bother you but did you know..." he seemed unsure how to finish his sentence instead stepped back to invite me to see for myself. " I wasn't sure if  you knew ? " I shook my head, worried now, half remembering something but just out of reach. The bodies covered my garden three of them were beaten too badly to identify but the fourth was clearly my Uncle Fletcher. His lazy eye no longer the most striking feature of his appearance. " It's just that you know, we don't set sail till next week, its a bit early for all this " he picked up a foot to emphasise his point, " I saw Egil in town with Fletchers coat on, he looked like he'd been turned inside out and washed with brine " I fetched my axe from the fire place where I'd been chopping wood last night and strode out into the street. " which coat ? "

Nannan's window sill was always cluttered so my view of the disaster was partly obscured. I do remember watching the girls face sink into the river of mince before disappearing behind a yellow Alsatian but after that Nannan pulled the curtains and gave me cornflakes on a plate. I never saw the other five cousins again.

The body was bloated up and looked 3 times heavier than before he'd entered the tank. Chad took measurements whilst Arno photographed the scene. He was a real little artist, crouching on one knee, lining up the curves of the body with the rust on the back wall. " shall we pack him up now ? " Arno squinted, eager to show his work but correctly judging now was not the time. Chad nodded and pocketed the tape measure. He felt old and tired, proving his theory seemed further way than ever.

As the official portrait of the Prime Minister released to the news agencies showed him wrestling a shaved baboon instead of the glamorous 6'2 blonde who usually accompanied him, the authorities knew the grease devils that wheeled the oils of civic society had fouled up again. Whether on purpose or another attempt to demonstrate how important they are it wasn't immediately clear but Dravid didn't care much either way. If they didn't answer the phone within three rings he was going to go nuclear on them in a way no amount of lubrication would help.