Fast Fiction: Manny Barking
Sometimes it’s wise for a journalist not to reveal who he has met. Richard Mallinson tells a Fleet Street tale.
'Don't talk to me about that bastard.'
'Luvly fella . . . 'elp anybody, 'e would.' 'Leave off... 'e used a knife -'
'Hullo, are you Manny Barking?'
"Oo'reyew?'
'Rick Frankly, Daily Blare.'
'So wot you want wiv me?'
'A chat, that's all... here, let me get you a whisky.'
'O cowse I knew the Krays. That Ronnie, e were a bad 'un. Reggie wus bad but not as bad as Ron. They 'ad me ruffed up once or twice. But no 'ard feelins. I used to know their mum, luvly lidy ... I better go.'
'So you're the one who interviewed Manny Barking.'
'Not much of an interview, I'm afraid, Inspector.' 'You know we'd like a word with him?' 'No, I -'
'Well, if you see him again . . .'
* 'That piece you're doing on Manny Barking - where the bluddy 'ell is it?
Not enough facts? Then invent some, for Christ's sake. Chop, chop.'
