Peregrine Percival Oatenshaw

A half ton of Bentley engineering traveling at seventy miles an hour is not generally considered to be fair game for a sheep. This sheep is an exception...

Ms. Lavinia Letitia Lamont, ‘Topsy’ to her friends. I roll the name around my tongue, savouring the hard consonants and flowing vowels. Never has a daughter so graceful, been born to a father so dull...

The Bentley purrs through the Yorkshire Dales, devouring the miles, closer and closer to what? Closure? The anger burns brightly these last thirty years, driving me onwards. Slowing down to negotiate the hump back bridge, scattering sheep across the moor. The lowering sky, the stone chapel...

My rage gets the better of me at times, and as the Bugatti careens across the South Circular, attracting the attention of what transpires to be an unmarked police car, my temper twitches and churns...

“You’re looming again Perry, I will not tolerate being loomed at…” Great Aunt Augustine, as grimly determined to hang on to her vast fortune and crumbling estate as she is reluctant to see her only living heir prosper...

This splendidly chilly Autumn day, sun wearily lighting the cobbles, the mews ringing with the sound of a powerful engine spluttering into life. The type 35 Bugatti, painstakingly restored, coughs, chokes and dies...

The Stilton, pungent and creamy, melted into my palate like mist, crackers roughing up the tongue, a generous slug of Armagnac clearing the stage for a second, prolonged assault...

Stopping for a restorative brandy at the Turks Head in Marylebone High Street, I found myself ascending the stairs at Baker Street somewhat later than I had anticipated – the page boy had long since departed for bed...

I reached the Police station by way of Marylebone road in less than an hour, and announced myself to the desk sergeant, rubbing my hands in gleeful anticipation - if I could convince Lestrade of the merit of my findings, then we could apprehend the villain and perhaps even spare some unsuspecting...

The family’s connection to the famous Sherlock Holmes is something we usually keep under wraps, so to speak...

Mr. Gideon Gambit Gore leaned forward, conspiratorially. His long fingers steepled, the shaven dome, the tweeds, the ruddy windblasted cheekbones, still the schoolmaster, the unflinching disciplinarian...

The teacup rattled in its saucer. Earl Grey slopping over the rim as Colonel Meridew Musters roared delightedly, his mirth echoing through the house. The kitchen staff, plucking fowl in preparation for dinner smile to themselves, all’s well with the master...

Stretched between the pear trees lining the avenue, the nets were alive with birds...

A superlative feast of eggs, rashers and toast being dispatched, the Manchester Guardian freshly ironed in the pantry, the banter with Molly, a giggle and a promise of something hot for tea...

The following tale is taken from the journal of my very dear friend Mr. E. Flavius Mercurius. Posted to me in a plain brown envelope, some weeks after his incarceration it appears to be an account of a day out we may have enjoyed in the company of the Gael...

Mr. Cornelius Clinch emerging from the back of the shop, neat and impeccably shod, an expression of conspiratorial expectation etched upon his features...

Forcing something called a Nissan into the ditch as I roared through Fleet was the most notable achievement of a depressingly damp days shooting with the Major...

There are few things in a gentleman’s life more bracing than the close encounter with naked steel afforded by a visit to Rutherford’s Hairdresser...

Speedy Boarding only – the announcement, barely audible through the crackle and hiss of the public address system prompts a crush around the boarding gate, headed up by a phalanx of german tourists (boarding category ‘B’) forming a flying wedge in order.to get to the front. It is 6am...

The bright red face glared accusingly over the edge of the pram, after a moment of consideration the mouth opened revealing a toothless cavity from which emerged the sound of a Formula One race meeting -amplified to head splitting volume...

Originating from the Relbia region of Tasmania, the Pirie Estate 2005 Pinot Noir is a wonderful example of an antipodean wine that is both subtle and elegant - a spicy black cherry aroma and terrific length are delivered with aplomb...

Anthony’s restaurant in Boar Lane, has been hailed as the finest culinary experience in Leeds - in former years, such an accolade might have led to justifiable sniggering, even guffaws, but in the last decade Leeds has transformed itself stealthily into a city most Londoners would feel absolutely...

Arriving at the hotel in mid afternoon, I was startled on entering my room to spy a pair of size 10 hiking boots situated at the end of the bed - no more surprised than I was seconds later by the realisation that the bed was occupied and that spiritual enlightenment was definitely off the agenda...