Whoops!

Nineteen seventy-six. The old days. Before computers, before electronic chips. Days of artistry, craftsmanship. Days when master forger Eustace Chan stood pre-eminent in his profession. 

Living and working in Hong Kong, Eustace had honed his arcane skills over more than thirty years and could now replicate any document, particularly high-security government documents with their regimented rows of the government crest.

Why then was he sitting in a prison cell, charged with innumerable counts of forgery?

He looked up through tears of confusion at his lawyer, Augustus Wong.

Wong’s smile was poignant. “It’s your English, Eustace, it’s no good.”

“I may not speak or read it, but I can copy it,” protested Eustace.

Augustus shook his head. “ Your fake documents are brilliant, my old friend, but there are four letter Ns in the wording around the crest, and each of the thousands of crests you have produced reads:

©David George Clarke 2021

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