At Writers’ Circus we were set the challenge, “Be careful when you tell a lie.”

This tale wrote itself and after comments from the group, here it is.

This wee tale was written as an assignment for a creative writing class at Strathclyde University.

As a friend who proof read it said, “Ah, the simple lives of country folks!”.

Ah, at last a serious note.

In our Italian class we were asked to prepare ourselves to discuss the topic, ‘Nel Futuro’ (In the Future). The intention was that we would think and write a piece, to prepare us for a group discussion using the future tense.

I set out to write a jolly poem, or so I thought.

What resulted was this pontifical piece, which flew onto the screen in a great rush.

I must assume that it is a reaction from my psyche to watching and listening to the news of the ‘immigration crisis’ that we are told will swamp us.

As I understand it, the UK is the sixth richest nation on earth, after Germany.

If I was being bombed out of my home in Syria, or starved to death in Africa, would I not strive to get to Europe, to get my family to safety, and give them a fair chance at a future?

You betcha I would! If was strong and brave enough.

And so would you, my friends.

This is a story about how the police hierarchy deal with bent coppers while avoiding unsavoury publicity.

It involves some graphic material and you may wish to avoid it for this reason.

If you decided to risk it, I hope you might agree that it has a ring of truth about it.

Or perhaps I am watching different news broadcasts from you?

This is a tale which has its origins in my childhood.

There is a little vernacular language, used only in context.

It arose from a challenge which I set for the Writers’ Circus.

I am pleased to advise that most people of a certain age (mine!) seem to enjoy it.

Nostalgia lives on in our hearts and minds.