The Pig Bin

'Now are you sure that there is nothing else, my son?’ asks Canon Reilly at the end of confession. Morley Charles assures him that there isn’t. But later it suddenly occurs to him that there almost certainly is, and he has been doing it enthusiastically and almost daily for the last three or four months. He should have guessed from the very anything so pleasurable has got to be sinful – even Mortally Sinful. And he knows only too well the consequences of unconfessed Mortal Sin. The problem is he doesn't know what it’s called – apart from its rude names – and until he does, he can’t confess it. But there is nobody who he can ask.

Meanwhile the Second World War rages – It is spring 1945. Despite his preoccupations, Morley is not oblivious to it. On the contrary, he thrills to its glamorous portrayal in films, books and boys’ papers; and enjoys the infusion of colour and purpose it gives to everyday life. In dreamy unfocused moments he hopes the war won’t end – just yet. But he recognises these thoughts as he wants his soldier father back unscathed, and some decent watercolours and a film for his never-used camera.

Not very popular, self-conscious, sometimes a butt for the scruffs who hang around the pig bin just up the road, Morley eventually – through an incident-packed fortnight – finds an answer to his most pressing problem and goes some way to coming to terms with one or two of the others.

Offbeat, moving and hilarious.
The Independent

Morley Charles is a charming comic creation. Wartime atmosphere is spot on,
and there’s at least a smile on every page.
Time Out

Richly observed comic rite of passage story.
Daily Express

A substantial read . . . genuinely funny . . . no word describes it better than
Delightful . . . a nicely paced and accomplished piece of storytelling.
Birmingham Post

Winner of the Sagittarius Prize.