Adults Only – Nicholas Walker

AutoB of a Short, Fat, Ugly Man: The Making of an Author

Nicholas Walker — Mon, 16 Aug 2021 20:47:29 +0000

He was standing there reading the report with a stunned expression on his face.

‘Walker,’ he said and now I knew I was in real trouble if he was calling me Walker.

‘Good Morning sir, and isn’t it a lovely one?’ I tried. He gave me a look.

‘You have been cutting Mrs Dark’s Geography lessons since the first year, correct?’

‘Spot on, sir,’ said I with nothing to lose.

‘I see. Well, as far as I can work out that means you have cut somewhere in the region of 348 lessons, yes?’

‘I can’t really help you there sir, I’m not very good at maths.’ I thought it better not to tell him I had recently been cutting Maths lessons as well.

‘Well, Nicknack…Walker,’ he said clutching at his forehead, ‘this leaves me with a bit of a problem. You see if a pupil cuts one lesson, they are made to copy up the whole lesson during detention.’

‘Seems fair enough to me, sir.’

‘Nicknack, shut up!’ he shouted losing it. He took a deep breath to bring himself back under control and after a minute continued in a more level tone, ‘For two lessons they are given the cane. For three they are put on home report.’ He lost it and started to dance around at this point, ‘I don’t know what the hell I am supposed to do about 348!!!’

I couldn’t think of anything to say that would improve the situation at this point. Now he seemed to have some sort of stroke and I watched him anxiously as he leaned over his desk fighting for breath, after all he wasn’t getting any younger. Gradually his bright red colour faded and he raised a trembling hand and pointed it at the door:

‘Go away you horrible boy!’

Like I said we all liked Mr Griffiths!

Autobiography of a Short, Fat, Ugly Man: The Making of an Author!

Nicholas Walker — Thu, 24 Sep 2020 01:36:13 +0000

I remember another incident much later on with Mr Griffiths. I sort of invented skiving off in about the third year but right back in the first year I stopped going to Geography. I hadn’t done a project as it was homework so as the teacher was very scary I hid in the toilets then I didn’t like to go back the following lesson and the more I stayed away the more the consequences piled up so the more I stayed away. I stayed away until the Fifth Form and then tragedy happened, Mrs Dark the teacher I was staying away from was tasked to write a report on me. She professed to having no idea who I was and I received the long awaited summons to Mr Griffith’s study. He was standing there reading the report with a stunned expression on his face. ‘Walker,’ he said and now I knew I was in real trouble if he was calling me Walker. ‘Good Morning sir, and isn’t it a lovely one?’ I tried. He gave me a look. ‘You have been cutting Mrs Dark’s Geography lessons since the first year, correct?’ ‘Spot on, sir,’ said I with nothing to lose. ‘I see. Well, as far as I can work out that means you have cut somewhere in the region of 348 lessons, yes?’ ‘I can’t really help you there sir, I’m not very good at maths.’ I thought it better not to tell him I had recently been cutting Maths lessons as well. ‘Well, Nicknack…Walker,’ he said clutching at his forehead, ‘this leaves me with a bit of a problem. You see if a pupil cuts one lesson, they are made to copy up the whole lesson during detention.’ ‘Seems fair enough to me, sir.’ ‘Nicknack, shut up!’ he shouted losing it. He took a deep breath to bring himself back under control and after a minute continued in a more level tone, ‘For two lessons they are given the cane. For three they are put on home report.’ He lost it and started to dance around at this point, ‘I don’t know what the hell I am supposed to do about 348!!!’ I couldn’t think of anything to say that would improve the situation at this point. Now he seemed to have some sort of stroke and I watched him anxiously as he leaned over his desk fighting for breath, after all he wasn’t getting any younger. Gradually his bright red colour faded and he raised a trembling hand and pointed it at the door: ‘Go away you horrible boy!’ Like I said we all liked Mr Griffiths!

Sillouettes in the Dark

Nicholas Walker — Wed, 02 Sep 2020 00:59:24 +0000

‘You bastard.’ She raised her hand and slapped him across his face so hard her hand stung. Willie hardly flinched but he switched his eyes back on. ‘I’ll allow you that, but I shan’t allow you to hit me again...understand?’ he said levelly. ‘And as for calling me a bastard, that’s exactly what I am. What are you, a professional virgin?’ His remark hurt so much that the hand jerked up almost involuntarily and slapped him again. There was a silence for a full ten seconds, Sanshia bit her fist horrified at what she had done. Willie nodded as if making up his mind. He strode forward and took hold of her arm just above the elbow, she pulled against him but he was much too strong for her. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded. ‘I told you I wouldn’t allow you to hit me again,’ he said levelly, sitting down in her chair. He pulled her down with him and she struggled furiously not believing what he was going to do. Then she was lying front-wise over his knees, he eased her forward and she found herself head down, her hands flat on the floor, bent over his knees like a child. ‘I don’t know if this is supposed to be some kind of joke, but you are to let me up straight away,’ she said, fury in her voice. ‘I don’t usually hit women, but with you it’ll be a real pleasure,’ he said. Sanshia started to struggle but all at once she relaxed, acutely aware that she was wearing stockings under her skirt and any further movement would be more revealing. Willie fixed one hand firmly over her hip pinning her in place. ‘I should think half the men you have ever met thought you could do with your bottom smacking,’ he said. ‘You lay one finger on me, just one…’ she broke off in disbelief as she felt him lift her skirt right up over her bottom. She froze in horror knowing the spectacle she must look lying there with her bottom stuck in the air wearing the skimpiest pair of knickers in her entire wardrobe. ‘I’ll have the law on you for this,’ she said. ‘Now let go of me this instant!’ Willie sighed, ‘If you want to report me to the police then that’s your prerogative, it’s not going to help your bottom either way. Now you might as well, accept it because you’re not getting up until I’ve quite finished.’ He brought his hand down hard on one cheek of her bottom. A surprised squeal escaped her before she could stop it, she had never really believed he would dare to hit her, but he did it to the other side, then again. Sanshia had never been hit in her whole life before and when she had ever thought about corporal punishment, she had always imagined it would be the embarrassment of the whole thing that would be the worst part, but by the time she had received the fifth smack it was the pain she was worrying about. She tried to minimise her predicament by keeping stock still, pretending it didn’t hurt, but soon she found herself struggling trying to avoid the next smack. ‘No! Now that’s enough!’ she gasped out but he ignored her and kept going rhythmically, a pause and then another smack. She couldn’t believe that such a childish punishment could hurt so much. She kicked her legs and heaved about but to no avail, then suddenly in spite of her strongest efforts she burst into tears. Willie hit her one more time, the twelfth time, then he lifted her up and stood her on her feet, and she realised he had been waiting for her to cry. She backed away from him frantically pulling her skirt down but she still lost her dignity for she found herself holding her bottom with both hands, tears till pouring down her face. ‘You bastard,’ she said. ‘I’ve already told you that’s exactly what I am,’ he said getting to his feet. With a terrific effort she pulled her hands away and lifted one of them as though to strike him again. He regarded her levelly, ‘Go on if you want,’ he said, ‘but the next time I’ll take your knickers down as well.’ She stood there one hand raised, then at last she lowered it and took a step back. ‘Get out! Get out of here!’ she said. ‘I’ll have you thrown out of the college by this time tomorrow.’ Willie shrugged, ‘You can try if you want,’ he said. ‘You know where to find me.’ He turned and walked out shutting the door behind him.

A Better Way To Die

Nicholas Walker — Wed, 02 Sep 2020 00:50:47 +0000

Written by best-selling author, Nicholas Walker, this is the first outing of Rupert Bannister the most bizarre character ever to hit the fiction world. Rupert came to everybody’s notice in Painted Smile (available on Kindle) where he became involved with the fiery world of political espionage. In this novel Rupert lives a much more low key existence working at Exeter University while training for the Olympics as a modern pentathlete in his usual relentless fashion. He interrupts a bank raid and falls foul of a major villain who tries to intimidate him and his beautiful wife Annabelle. Rupert, though, has never allowed anybody to intimidate him and casually deals with the various hard men that the villain sics on him.

Sadly things turn tragic when his wife is murdered and Rupert decides to get his revenge. The police know exactly what is happening but Rupert manages to foil them at every turn as one by one he hunts down the men who killed his wife and deals with them in his own imitable fashion.

The book is tragic and violent and sexy but the very eccentricities of the leading character can bring humour into any situation and will have the reader cheering him on all the way.

Painted Smile

Nicholas Walker — Wed, 02 Sep 2020 00:44:02 +0000

This thrilling novel has an action packed storyline with an international political base. It is extremely fast paced and the action ranges from Exeter to Washington and on to Japan, London, Brussels and Iraq. The plot revolves around the idea that the Japanese are trying to get Britain and China to go to war over a crisis in Hong Kong. The weapon they are using is mind control, training certain highly intelligent and uniquely skilled people into influencing Western political leaders.

The plotlines are all brought to a focus by the central character, the bizarre Rupert Bannister who comes across as an amiable idiot. The whole book is about this very different character, he does not fit into the normal hero role at all: he is short and fat and looks like an uneducated farm boy, Rupert is that rarest of all creatures, the violent intellectual. He seems totally irresponsible and frequently acts like a child. He loves bizarre situations, for example he quite enjoys a night on a park bench or in jail. He seeks out violent people because he enjoys a good fight yet he is as gentle as a lamb. He loves hard manual labour yet Rupert is one of the few people in the world who can take on these mind control people, or Senders as they are known scientifically.

Rupert is first employed by the CIA to track down the Senders but then he becomes more heavily involved, because his partnership in this, with Sanchia Clarke, turns into a love affair. When Sanchia is taken by the Senders, Rupert starts a search which finally results in an amazing trek across the Iraqi desert to break into the Sender’s complex. Finding out just how serious the Senders assault is, on the world, leads Rupert to a major confrontation within the United Nations and particularly with the Prime Minister of Britain and the UN Secretary General. Finally Rupert joins in a full scale assault on the Sender’s complex.

The book has a strong scientific and political basis all drawn very much on fact. It relies more on emphasizing situations and processes that are going on in the world today rather than imagining new ones. For example: Senders do exist! European businessmen and politicians use transducers when negotiating inside Japan to stop their minds being deliberately confused by external influences.

The book contains scenes of personal violence as well as love and sex scenes, though the central character’s eccentricity can put humour into the most dangerous situations.