Conor Matthews
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Writer. Opinions are my own. https://ko-fi.com/conormatthews
Stories (210)
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The Iinglish of Dynya
PART 1 HERE Breakfast was disappointing. For starters, Mygel was nowhere to be seen. The flat faced Gabri, a staff member who maintained dull, dead eyes even when she smiled and laughed, was dishearteningly present and commanding at the check-in desk for the continental service in the dining room. Mr. Bunch hastily waved away her welcome of “Bónasio Dí”, as though it was a sudden fart, and called out his room number in loud and obnoxiously pronounced words.
By Conor Matthewsabout a year ago in Chapters
2 Years On Basic Income
An early draft of this piece was written in a hotel room from the sunny coastal town of Denia, Spain. The temperature was forty degrees (about a hundred, for you yanks), and I was in an air-conditioned room, naked, typing. I have receipts beside me as a I tried to justify some tax deductions (an ice-tea is an expense since I’m working while drinking it, right?), and a cup of coffee begging to be refilled. The sun is radiating down on the sweat stained clothes drying on the balcony, flittering through the palm branches gently rocked by the Mediterranean breeze.
By Conor Matthewsabout a year ago in Journal
Dr. Pierre Renoir & The Murder Game Murder
Bonjour! I am Dr. Pierre Renoir, world-renowned criminologist, working with international agencies to solve hundreds of crime cases, and this... would have been the case of The Murder Game Murder. I say “would have been” due to the interference of one blundering Irish taxi driver; Bucky O'Shea.
By Conor Matthewsabout a year ago in Fiction
The Iinglish Of Dynya: Part 1
Mr. Bunch woke up at exactly seven-thirty on Tuesday morning. He had woken up at seven-thirty on Tuesday morning ever since the hotel had introduced the buffet at eight. His alarm was playing “London Calling” on Spotify. He was very chuffed with the fact he could do that sort of thing, ever since his adult nephew, Malcolm, had shown him several years ago back in Iinglatera. Mr. Bunch wasn’t much for technology. He hated the years spent in the council offices after they brought in computers. Clacking things, he thought, chuckling to himself for no apparent reason, other than the habit. No. Good paper and pen will do fine. Why should he have to use computers? He was already good at his job. Just seemed lazy, and a potential risk; it’ll mean anyone can work for the council, and they won’t need to add or subtract or remember anything.
By Conor Matthewsabout a year ago in Chapters
