Live hungry. Sleep fucked. Die trying.
Scruffians
The Scruffians
Meet the Scruffians, workhouse tykes and street arabs scrobbled by the Waiftaker General, dragged to the Institute and put to the Stamp, Fixed ageless, imperishable... the perfect child labour. Meet the scruffs escaped to live free & fight back: Flashjack and Puckerscruff; Squirlet Nicely and Vermintrude Toerag; Yapper, the Scruffian what speaks Dog; Whelp, the dog Fixed as a scruff; and Rake Jake Scallion, not a scruff, but the finest friend a scruff ever had. Park yer arse, stray, and we'll learn yer the ABCs of being a scruff. We'll learn yer how us Scruffians STAMP.
“The post- post- modern Victorian fables that comprise Hal Duncan’s A Scruffian Survival Guide
inhabit a unique dark fantasy world—a feral dream. The language is mad genius.”
Jeffrey Ford
"Hal Duncan's cheeky and charming Scruffian stories hide a steely shiv of inspection that digs uncompromisingly into the ribs of the establishment. This latest volume, populated as always with wonderful characters old and new, deepens that exploration and brings it bang up to date. I loved every word of it."
Neil Williamson
Scruffians STAMP!
Like fugitives from the musical Oliver!
by way of Clive Barker, or some queer punk bastard brat born of Neil Gaiman and William Burroughs, the Scruffians should appeal to readers of dark fantasy with a wicked sense of blackest humour. Wielding whimsy in the service of satire, with a wink to Peter Pan, a nod to The Borribles, and a salute to Sweeney Todd, this is punk fiction for yer inner feral child.
For your entertainment and edification, for an interduction to the world of the Waiftaker General, the Institute and a host of urchins to make the Artful Dodger look like an angel, park yer arse, mate, and listen to me fabble. Let me fabble ye tale of Orphan, first of all Scruffians, first waif ever put to the Stamp.
Join the Scruffians!
Ain't no bleeding House Pupperfluffs or House Squitteryns or such shite here, mate, just how's yer was Fixed, whether it were with the Ants-in-Pants of a nipper or the Bossy Boots of a tyke. Scamps, scrags, scallywags and scofflaws is what it is, mate. Urchin or hellion or just plain rascal, sure, but all of us scruffs afore all else—and at the end
of the day too, mate. To the fuckin bitter
end of yer last
day as might never ever come now.
And if yer still ain’t sure what being a scruff is all about, well, have a shufty at some of yer cribmates, eh.
Click here if yer fancies joining the Rogues’ Gallery
New and Forthcoming
The Land of Somewhere Safe
Orphaned by the Blitz and evacuated from London, Peter and Lilly find themselves thrown together by circumstance with the four Bastable children—a jolly queer bunch indeed, who might well be far more than they seem. Who might well be a bunch of Scruffians on a Sekrit Mishun, innit, to take the Stamp, by way of an isle absurdly called Skye, to the magical mythical land where it will be safe from Nazi spies. Or not, as the case may be...
A Scruffian Funferal
Waifs of history put under the Stamp. Fixed imperishable to skivvy forever for the groanhuffs. Scarpered to live wild, fight back, liberate every scruff still in chains. It's over a century now since the Scruffians nicked the Stamp, done for the last of the Waiftaker Generals, and brung down the whole bleeding Trade. Still, there's cribs being raided and scruffs being scrobbled, which means there's comeuppances called for, innit. So sharpen yer shivs, scamps, and get ready to rumble. It's time for a little old school Halloween fun, on the night when every scruff is hellion and every groanhuff best be scared.
