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Fast Fiction: Manny Barking

Sometimes itís 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.'

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