Sowerbutt's Hats

“Approve? Approve? We can sell dozens of these beautiful hats. I want them tomorrow and I want to buy June if I can’t have your bakery girl,” George said. “The madams in the West End millinery shops will be green with envy, nails ready to scratch.”

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Sowerbutt's Riot

"The bully-boy bailiffs came in with warrants and began seizing goods. Do you know they marched into the markets at Bury, waved a piece of paper in the air and started loading their lorries with pigs and cattle. Nearly started a riot, I almost hit one of the bastards myself but the constables were there."

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Sowerbutt's Tithes

Rupert Manningtree said: “Tithe Wars? A damn disgrace. The tithe-owners, mostly civilians who’d bought them out but a few Anglicans, trying to squeeze blood out of a stone. Middle of a depression, corn prices were down 30% and the cost of labour and supplies sky-high. People couldn’t pay, good people."
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Sowerbutt's Winnings

“King Zog from Albania to whom we have granted asylum. Paying for his stay at the Ritz with his poker winnings, we gather, the rogue."
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Sowerbutt's Waiter

As manager of Clacton’s premier hotel, Barry Nigg did not normally wait on tables in the lounge or anywhere else. However, the Brigadier had impressed upon him the importance of looking after Mrs Smith as the woman had registered her name. “Matter of national security, old boy. Something the Prime Minister himself is taking a personal interest in."
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Sowerbutt's Palace

“Well, I do declare, Miss Polly, this is perfect, a picture-perfect palace. I love your spotted curtains, the pastel walls and the floorboards are polished to a treat,” George, the chief clothes buyer at Marshall & Snelgrove, beamed as he looked around the warehouse.
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Sowerbutt's Chain

One-Line’s Webley revolver was in his shoulder holster; Panda’s shotgun rested against the wall, his bike chain coiled in a canvas bag alongside.

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Sowerbutt's Pickaxe

Spaghetti swung his pickaxe in the four-foot deep trench in one of the side-streets running east from West Ferry Road. Dressed in an old tweed suit, he looked the part of a council worker. 
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Sowerbutt's Prisoners

“A welcome problem, Majesty, is where to place the thousands of Italian prisoners. We are capturing hundreds at a time,” Churchill said. “Some are being brought here to fill the gaps on our farms. Most will be sent to the dominions, India and the colonies."
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Sowerbutt's Attack

“Thank you, Prime Minister. A most succinct report,” the King said to Churchill, who was seated in the private study at Buckingham Palace. “We are pleased by the attacks on the Admiral Hipper at Brest. The Brylcreem Boys have done well."
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Sowerbutt's Acquaintance

“In Clacton last year, a young postal worker was jailed for defeatist talk; the magistrate made an example of her. After serving her time, she’s upped roots and moved to Hammersmith – under surveillance, of course. We’ve set up a notional group in Clacton around an acquaintance of yours, Rosetta, who is posing as the postal worker’s friend."

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Sowerbutt's Blackshirts

"The Norwich group is centred around a chap called Eric Pleasants. The group, who are all my people, are notionally getting over his absence. A well-known Blackshirt, he went to sea to avoid the call-up and stayed on in Occupied Jersey of all places. Beyond the reach of any Red checking credentials."

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Sowerbutt's List

He spread a sheet of paper on the table. “Another contribution from the Scribe. For you to tuck away, Mr Gerard. A list of what we’ve described as active Blackshirt groups across East Anglia and London. The sort of information you would expect Jerry to know. One of our friends in the Swiss Protecting Power team borrowed a typewriter and paper from the closed-up  Jerry Embassy in Carlton House Terrace."
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Sowerbutt's Letter

"This is the letter to show the notional Blackshirt groups, a top job. We have an inspired writer and the Scribe does better than the original, as ever. The wallet is German, taken from a Kreigsmarine officer now in our custody."
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Sowerbutt's Bike

Only Sowerbutt witnessed the spectacle of the red-faced Brigadier gingerly twisting and turning the heavy ladies’ bike along the ridged farm track, better suited to cloven stock. 
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Sowerbutt's Sticks

As Missionary and his lads walked back towards Commercial Road, a couple of street boys were dancing around the cart and poking the Kidds with sticks and someone from the crowd was throwing mud at them. “Let’s get the slops from the pub kitchen,” one man shouted.

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Sowerbutt's Coshes

Billy Kidd’s face turned white when he saw Missionary’s Webley revolver pointing at him. Pushing the box of tinned pineapples towards the handsome young man, he turned to run, shouting at his brother. Two of Missionary’s lads were waiting behind them, coshes in hand. 
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Sowerbutt's Horse

A large crater could be seen some yards away, clouds of smoke and dust swirling skyward. A solitary fire pump stood in the street vainly trying to hose down the flames in a nearby building. An ancient horse, between the shafts of a cart, was licking the water spilling across the street.
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Sowerbutt's Station

“Right lads,” he said. “Limehouse station. We’ll leg it.” Each of the men carried a shooter and a cosh and carried a rucksack with torch, tools, nails, rope and other bits and pieces.

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Sowerbutt's Gloves

“First he tries to blow up St Paul’s, now a major smuggling ring of war supplies. A busy boy. And we’re supposed to treat him with kid gloves. We’ll see.”

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Sowerbutt's Joke

Sowerbutt chuckled. “You may not have seen him, Nero. Her husband is a former docker from Millwall. Big lad. Can’t win every time.” Nero’s face fell.

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Sowerbutt's Honey

“A difficulty is to interest him in a Jerry courier. Yes, he’s from a U-boat and he’s talking to Blackshirts. But why would our friend bother? I’m thinking something to draw the bee to the honeypot. Money – greenbacks, pounds or gold sovereigns."
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Sowerbutt's Enemy

“First he tries to blow up St Paul’s, now a major smuggling ring of war supplies. A busy boy. And we’re supposed to treat him with kid gloves."
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Sowerbutt's Warning

"We don’t think he will kill you, he avoids drawing attention to himself. But he did shoot one of his men who had fallen into the clutches of Sorbay’s lads. Ruthless."
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Sowerbutt's Bait

The Brigadier enjoyed some sausage. “You are bait, Lee, but you have to be credible bait to be acceptable to your adversary. Your mission becomes challenging when he strikes."
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Sowerbutt's Coup

The Brigadier man nodded. “You are a courier, Lee, raising the Blackshirt standard. In short, bringing orders from the Fatherland to launch a coup; Tom Mosley in No 10, Churchill in the Tower."

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