The Vanishing Lord

Writing, Ranting & Love At First Sight

I was very honoured to be the first guest on my chum Dan Alatorre‘s new show, Writer Rants, to talk about PorterGirl books First Lady Of The Keys and The Vanishing Lord. Here are some edited highlights; whilst almost two hours of Daniel talking about how great I am might be good for my ego, no one really wants to listen to that. But what you might want to listen to, however, are insights into how I built up the Old College world and developed the characters, the truth about what really happened at Cambridge University and how I fell in love at first sight at the Royal Opera House…

 

 

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UK Edition                                                                                   UK Edition

US Edition                                                                                    US Edition

PorterGirl – The Vanishing Lord

 

PorterGirl – The Vanishing Lord

Release date – 10th June 2017

There’s nothing quite so annoying as having the police arrive just as you are trying to work out how to cover up a crime that may or may not have happened…

Having barely drawn breath from clearing out the bodies that resulted from the unpleasantness of last term, our heroine once again finds herself facing another crisis at Old College. One of the oldest and most esteemed establishments of the British academic elite, Old College had a long and bloody history before the arrival of the very first female Deputy Head Porter, so perhaps she shouldn’t be so surprised.

Her first academic year in her illustrious new role (Porters are not the carriers of bags, but the keepers of keys) saw her tackle a vicious and shadowy secret organisation, several murders and the assorted whims of College hierarchy. Now, faced with the unexplained disappearance of a priceless painting and the unexpected death of the Master of arch-rivals Hawkins College, there is nothing for it but for Deputy Head Porter to don her trusty bowler hat and embark upon another eccentric investigation.

Only slightly hindered by the assistance of an increasingly erratic Head Porter – whose personal life gets more complex by the day – and the terrifyingly unpredictable Dean of College, Deputy Head Porter is soon chasing clues, picking up red herrings and juggling extraordinary adventures with the day-to-day running of Britain’s most exclusive educational establishment.

Tenacious detectives, ill-advised disguises, saucy medieval literature and Russian spies conspire to confuse matters further. While great efforts are spent unravelling a horrible misunderstanding, far darker machinations go almost unnoticed…

Available now to pre-order

UK Edition

US Edition

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Also available – PorterGirl – First Lady Of The Keys – the first in the PorterGirl series

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UK Edition

US Edition

Where’s Boris?

“Another drink, Sir?”

The Right Honourable Boris Johnson didn’t look like he needed another drink. He reclined in awkward repose upon a blue velvet 18th century chaise longue, resplendent in a silk Japanese robe and little else.  He turned his head towards the very nice man who was offering him another drink.

“A humble measure would suit me decorously, old bean!” Boris replied, with some enthusiasm.

His obliging companion was his permanently irritated butler, Snetterton.

“And what form will the humble measure take this time, Sir?”

“Oh. Well – what was the last one?”

“The last one was a creme de menthe, Sir,” replied Snetterton, eyebrow twitching furiously. “The one before that, was a Pernod.”

Before the bemused Boris could answer, an almighty crash and shower of shattered glass erupted from the bay windows, encouraged no doubt by the garishly-attired figure travelling through it apace. Boris sat up with a start, causing the silken robe to suppress yet less of his sturdy assemblage.  Snetterton tutted.

“It would appear that Mr Nigel Farage is here to see you, Sir.”

“Farage! Bing-bang-bully-o for that! Well, if it’s Farage invading my supplicatory shack I suppose it had better be pints all round, what!”

Snetterton effectuated the most subtle eye roll known to man.

“Certainly, Sir. Two pints of what, would you suggest?”

“Chablis, if you will, Snetterton. Nigel! What are you playing at you dastardly fopdoodle?” Boris flung his arms wide, inviting a manly embrace.

Farage tolerated this unflattering reception, on the grounds that he had been called far worse.

While Snetterton retreated to the drinks cabinet, Nigel got uneasily to his feet and limped towards what he deemed to be a distinctly uninviting-looking Boris. Keen to avoid any physical contact, Nigel perched himself at the far end of the chaise longue and cast furtive glances in the direction of an industrious Snetterton.

“Quite an entrance you made there, chum,” remarked Boris. “That calls for a drink! Huzzah!”

“It was your bloody dogs!” Nigel cried. “They chased me all the way from the bloody carpark.”

“It’s not a carpark, you ridiculous peasant, it is a sweeping approach.”

Snetterton returned with two magnificent pints of Chablis and the mood improved immediately.

“So, what brings you here?” asked Boris, hardly noticing that a small pool of Chablis had gathered in his navel.

“Well, as a fellow Brexiteer and notorious trouser-dropper, I’ve been worried about you,” replied Nigel. “All this to-do about the general election and you’re nowhere to be seen! What’s going on?”

“Aha, well, Bozza here has had some pergravis pursuits on his hands, I tell you. All in preparation for that most auspicious of dates – 10th June!”

10th June?” queried Nigel, his brows knotting so tightly it would take a brawny sailor to untie them. “The election is on the 8th June!”

“Damn and blast the buggering election!” blustered Boris. “No, no, no man. No. Lucy Brazier’s spanking new novel – PorterGirl – The Vanishing Lord – is released on 10th and there’s going to be almighty carousing in Cambridge on the very day! Broadcast across the globe by all manner of technical jiggery-pokery. I’ve invented a pair of self-removing trousers for this very occasion and it has taken up all my time. Old Bozza hasn’t even had a moment to consider this election whiffle-waffle.”

“Blimey, I bet the Prime Minister’s furious!”

“Actually, it was her that suggested it,” Boris paused to take a large swig of Chablis. “Can’t think why…”

“She was probably concerned about you coming out with more of that 15th century gutter talk…”

“And that’s another thing!” Boris brightened immediately. “There’s plenty of fine medieval trash-talking and lashings of rumpy-pumpy in the new book! Huzzah!”

“Well, it sounds utterly marvellous,” said Nigel, clasping his hands together with glee. “Where can I get my hands on a copy?”

“It’s available on pre-order now!” replied Boris, only a small amount of Chablis dribbling from his chin. “Whatever the result next Thursday it’s bound to be horrific for all concerned – The Vanishing Lord will be just the thing to cheer up the hoi polloi and idiot elite alike!”

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Beat those election blues and pre-order now!

UK Edition

US Edition