Not a member?     Existing members login below:

The Dead Famous

random friends and girlfriends who would probably prefer to remain nameless.
To all those who do, did, and will put up with me; your patience is and always was appreciated.
Chapter 1
“It’s Friday, it’s five to five and it’s Crackerjack!”
I suppose I knew, from the very first camera I held, that my calling in life had been found.
Although my path to photographic success was sometimes blocked by idiots intent on my
downfall, I managed to strive through with my sanity thankfully intact and my goals largely
achieved. Which is more than I can say for the idiots.
Destiny deemed my future to be in journalism, specialising in the reported stories of actors and
film- folk in general. Their world appeared to be solely of glamour and riches. Unlike those great
people, however, I was not born into a rich family myself.
Our name of Montague was a moniker that had become associated with adventure and great
landowners over the years due to the efforts of the more dramatic offshoots of the family. The
Montagues had fought battles alongside K ings, ventured overseas to cross great lands in the
name of trade and empire. Geoffrey Montague, my father, had descended twelve generations ago
from Robert Montague. While the rest of his brothers were sturdy warrior types, Robert had been
a weak and ineffectual addition to the family who had not entered the clergy as so many of the
younger siblings did in those times. Not being deemed fit to join the exploits abroad with his
brothers, he decided to put all of his inherited money into a type of seed drill which did nothing
to move the agricultural development of England forwards and simply failed tremendously along
with Robert’s heart just six months later, leaving behind an only son to continue his line.
Yes, the name brought with it none of the expected associations, and centuries passed so that we
were as detached from the line as you can imagine, and it therefore meant little to me other than
when signing cheques or knowing if letters had been delivered to the correct desk when working.
The impression is given from the result of this unfortunate history that we were perhaps poor,
which is not particularly the truth. My family lived comfortably enough and wanted for very
little. O ur home was a large terraced house in a leafy suburb of North London, our neighbours