Mr Fell
LightNews LightNews
banner
mrfell.bsky.social
Mr Fell
@mrfell.bsky.social
1.4K followers 640 following 210 posts
I run a bookshop. If you try to buy something I will run it in the opposite direction.
Posts Replies Media Videos
mrfell.bsky.social
It’s all going terribly well!
The happy couple having just been pronounced a ‘group of the two of you’.
November 15, 2025 at 7:02 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
Eastgate-by-Amberley’s W.I. are having a ‘bottomless brunch’ for charity. Crowley says that it’s a challenge.

Well, anything for a good cause…
A platter, laden with fruit and vegetables and glasses of champagne of far better quality than the suppliers intended.
October 5, 2025 at 1:25 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
Time for a little something…
A fluffy fairy cake with bright yellow icing and a flower decoration, and a golden-brown raspberry croissant. Scrumptious!
July 8, 2025 at 11:34 AM
mrfell.bsky.social
As Colonel Mustard’s Lonely Hearts Column tells us: “All you need is Love.”
An open diary surrounded by ephemera of the period. There is a drawing of a pair of bare feet with dark scales. Around it, the text reads “…of course you do. The natural instinct of any creature that's used to being hurt is to run. And you have been hurt so very, very cruelly. They told us that discipline was the same as justice. ‘The fame of the Everlasting Love doth burn ere it transform...’ But was this justice? Was Paradox justice? I thought so. Then I learned better. I would bathe your feet in spikenard and myrrh, but I no longer dare. Humanity has made poison of belief, a covenant of destruction. Instead, I'll give you what you asked for, and pay the price in careful distance. No more temptation. Because you always run. And then you always come back.” Around the diary are an open tartan flask, lying on its side, a menu for Bentley’s Oyster Bar and Restaurant, a receipt from The Small Back Room for two records (listed only by catalogue number). A checked cravat trails from the flask down the side of the diary, where a paperback novel — The Last Refuge, by John Petty — is bookmarked by a postcard showing a cottage. A scrap of newspaper advertises La Roca — Soho’s gayest nightspot, complete with live music, dancing and bongos…
June 8, 2025 at 9:21 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
Ask and you shall receive!
A tin of Simpkins orange, lemon and grapefruit travel sweets.
May 10, 2025 at 12:02 AM
mrfell.bsky.social
Sir Terry Pratchett has many insightful things to say about the role of hats in perceptions of the wearer. If you haven’t read his work, *Mort* is a good place to begin.
Quoted extract, rather lazily taken from ‘terry pratchett paradise’ on the tumblers to save me searching: "It wasn't the wearing of the hats that counted so much as having one to wear. Every trade, every craft had its hat. That's why kings had hats. Take the crown off a king and all you had was someone good at having a weak chin and waving to people. Hats had power. Hats were important." - Terry Pratchett - Witches Abroad
May 9, 2025 at 5:12 AM
mrfell.bsky.social
I seldom recommend books, because catering for the sensibilities of individual readers is best left to those who know them most intimately. I do, however, offer Sir Terry Pratchett’s *Monstrous Regiment* as a suggestion for those in search of their next read.
'Oysters, sir. He doesn't like them. But that's not a problem because no one there has ever seen an oys- ter. Oh, and babies. He Abominated them, too!' 'I take it people still make them here?' 'Oh, yes, your gr- I'm sorry. Yes, sir. But they feel guilty about it. Barking dogs, that was another one. Shirts with six buttons, too. And cheese. Er ... people just sort of, er, avoid the trickier ones. Even the priests seem to have given up trying to explain them.' 'Yes, I think I can see why. So what we have here is a country that tries to run itself on the command- ments of a god who, the people feel, may be wear- ing his underpants on his head. Has he Abominated underpants?' 'No, sir, Chinny sighed. 'But it's probably only a matter of time.'
May 8, 2025 at 10:10 AM
mrfell.bsky.social
Good morning, internets and denizens thereof!

I am in search of a small group of artists to assist me in the creation of an ‘animatical’. No prior experience is necessary — I certainly have none myself!

(That being said, look at this wonderful drawing by @owlygem.bsky.social!)
A drawing by the delightful @owlygem.bsky.social, depicting me sitting cheerfully at the wheel of the Bentley.
May 4, 2025 at 7:46 AM
mrfell.bsky.social
Two distant figures walk side-by-side in the middle of a featureless white desert, footprints leading back towards the viewer. The taller one, robed in black, is on the left. The other, rather broader (although it’s mostly the breeze flaring my robes out, really!) figure on the right is gesturing animatedly as they speak.
April 18, 2025 at 1:44 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
*Conjurer Dick*. An engrossing tale of a young fellow’s burgeoning magical career as he makes his way through school.
The cover of Conjurer Dick, a novel by Angelo J Lewis, known in the magic community as Professor Hoffman. A blond young man performs a trick on stage in front of his fellow students while doves and playing cards whirl about him.
April 8, 2025 at 10:00 AM
mrfell.bsky.social
Courtesy call to my old friends. They’ve been rather quiet since Oliver went on to new and exciting things. Doesn’t do to let them get /too/ comfortable.
Ringing Sotheran’s doorbell, which is one of several in the building. One of my business cards tucked in behind the ‘Henry Sotheran Ltd. sign’.
March 28, 2025 at 8:36 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
I can never recall which rendezvous this was. No matter! Might pop in later for a cup of tea.
The stately facade of the British Museum, decorated with columns that were very definitely not stolen from anywhere. The trees are mostly bare, but the sky is blue and the sun is warm and I hear church bells in the distance.
March 27, 2025 at 1:00 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
Oh, I did. It went precisely as well as you might expect.
Angelic paperwork on Gabriel’s desk. Several copies of repair request form, one of which has been folded into an origami elephant. The form shows a simplified diagram of a Vitruvian angel, the eye region circled in blue ink. Form ‘JRMH-30-17 CORPORATION REPAIR & MAINTENANCE WORK REQUEST ABSOLUTE TIME POINT: 6025-6-4-10-17-8 DATE OF ISSUE: A series of zeroes followed by (ish) SERIAL NUMBER: (indecipherable) ALL MAINTENANCE REQUESTS MUST BE RECEIVED IN WRITING BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF FAULT AND REMEDY REQUESTED: Suspected firmament rupture of both eyes. Repair to left and replacement of right if possible. DETAILS OF SUBMITTING ANGEL: Aziraphale, Principality, Angel of the Eastern Gate TEMPORARY CORPORATION REQUIRED: No NAME OF ANGEL APPROVING REPAIR: Archangel Gabriel of Her Highest Choir of Seraphim, Who is Called Her Messenger.’ A Heavenly formal rejection. Not my first. The letter reads: MEMO TO PRINCIPALITY AZIRAPHALE FROM: SEPTEM EXCELSIS RE CORPOREAL OVERHAUL REQUEST BLESSINGS AND SALUTATIONS, WE HAVE REVIEWED YOUR SUBMISSION AND REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR CORPORATION IS INELIGIBLE FOR ADJUSTMENT(S) AT THIS TIME. WHILE WE DEEPLY REGRET ANY CONFUSION AND INCONVENIENCE THIS RULING MAY CAUSE, YOUR CURRENT FORM IS NO LONGER A PHYSICAL ASSET OF HEAVEN AND/OR OF ETHEREAL ORIGIN. UNFORTUNATELY, WE ARE UNABLE TO ASSIST WITH ANY REPAIRING/ REALIGNMENT YOU MAY REQUIRE OR DESIRE. GIVEN THAT YOU ARE TECHNICALLY OUTSIDE OF OUR JURISDICTION. HOWEVER, BECAUSE THE BODY WE INITIALLY ISSUED YOU WAS LOST IN A FORCED RETURN TO HEAD OFFICE, WE ARE ABLE TO OFFER YOU A FULL REPLACEMENT. SHOULD YOU CHOOSE THIS, WE WILL ATTEMPT TO MATCH YOUR ORIGINAL MODEL AS CLOSELY AS POSSIBLE. THOUGH THERE HAVE BEEN A FEW MINOR MODIFICATIONS TO BASE DESIGNS SINCE YOU WERE FIRST ISSUED YOUR FORM AND A FULL PHYSICAL RETRAINING WILL BE REQUIRED BEFORE YOU RETURN TO ACTIVE SERVICE. WE VALUE YOU AS A MEMBER OF THE HOST AND RESPECTFULLY AWAIT YOUR DECISION. PLEASE REPLY AT YOUR CONVENIENCE. In purple ink, the following note has been added: ‘Not our body, not our problem Aziraphale. Take the deal, accept the new corporation. Trust me — G.’
January 31, 2025 at 10:35 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
More than eight hundred diaries to write those words. So close to saying something, but silence won again.

Sometimes the universe takes matters into its own hands. Sometimes courage takes desperate circumstances.
A diary entry, or perhaps a half-remembered song, and a sketch of a beautiful face, caught more in light than shadow. Letters and arcane charts, a lock of curled red hair bound in gold, and a sleek black feather pen with a brass nib-holder surround the open book. ‘This is my beloved, and this is my friend Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth For his love is better than wine His left hand is under mine head, and his right hand doth embrace me. Behold, thou art fair my love. Thou art fair Thy lips are a thread of scarlet and thy mouth is comely. Thy neck is like the tower of David thy body bright ivory, the scent of thy breath like apples and thy mouth like the best wine. Set me as a seal upon thine heart for love is strong as death.’
January 23, 2025 at 8:39 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
And a nightingale sang…
An open diary, surrounded by memories of 1941. The diary entry reads: “I said ‘trust me’, and you did. Was there ever anything more courageous than a demon putting their trust in an angel? My good friend. My best friend. My dearest friend. My beloved friend Lord, You know my secret heart. As flawed and failing as I am,I still serve You. You made me to love, and I do… I do. I’ll burn to ash with all the love I must give, because that’s how You made me. But more, my God, I want more. I want to be loved. My sin is selfish need. Why haven’t I Fallen yet?” There is a drawing, or possibly a watercolour sketch of a pair of bright yellow eyes with slotted pupils, staring from the page. On the white tablecloth are an instruction manual for the ‘Miraculous Bullet Catch’ trick, a ticket for the Windmill theatre, a polaroid cunningly taken from Furfur, a 1908 bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape, and a copy of War and Peace hollowed out to hold a Derringer. Another photograph of my little emergency pistol — a pearl-handled double shot Derringer concealed in a velvet-lined cavity in a copy of War and Peace. The accompanying licence is registered in the name of Asaph Zadkiel Fell on the fourteenth February, nineteen forty-one.
January 18, 2025 at 4:04 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
Always most at peace when he was sleeping.
An open diary on a leather blotter. The right hand page bears two rough pencil sketches of the face of a sleeping demon. The left has a handwritten entry: ‘…sleeping now. There isn’t really enough light for this, and of course I could remedy that with just the smallest miracle, but it might wake him and I wouldn’t wake him for worlds. Lord, I don’t ask You for much. It’s not my place to ask and angels don’t pray. But if You could give me a hint. Just a little one. Anything, really. Is this a test? I’m sure I’m being foolish — You’re far too busy to waste Your valuable time testing one lowly angel. But is it? Is Crowley my ‘apple’? I’ve said ‘no’ to him so many times that I think he might believe it’s the only word I know. Yet he keeps coming back. When everything else is uncertain, there he is. I don’t want to disappoint You, My God. I don’t want to fail You. Every day, now, we seem to be closer, and I don’t know if my resolve can last forever. Just a sign, Lord. Please.’
January 16, 2025 at 5:57 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
A pristine white desert stretches to the horizon, where a line of low, hazy blue mountains begin. Two figures, seen only from the waist down, stand on the pale sands, which ripple out from their feet like water. The nearer figure wears a long white-ish robe and over-robe and sandals. The other is dressed all in black. The sky is blue, softened by bands of diffuse cloud.
December 9, 2024 at 2:09 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
Not that one. This one. I put a heap of papers from Upstairs in there.
A large Chinese camphor-wood chest, carved with scenes of trees, villages and boats.
November 21, 2024 at 11:18 AM
mrfell.bsky.social
If you happen to visit St James’s Park, check under the armrest. You might be in luck!
A bench in St James’s Park, where I paused awhile to think. There are three trade tokens secured under the armrest, assuming they haven’t been’ tidied away’.
November 16, 2024 at 9:06 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
Should you approach them and surreptitiously murmur ‘gorgonzola’, you may receive a small token from the bookshop. Supplies are limited, so don’t hesitate!
A selection of my ‘postcards’ and business cards embossed in gold, and a small dish of reproduction trade-tokens from my old shop on London Bridge.
November 12, 2024 at 10:41 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
As also mentioned elsewhere, a number of Crowley’s (and my) rat assistants (currently in human form for convenience) will be at the ‘London Comical Film Convention’ on Saturday the 16th. Look for anyone wearing one of these badges.
An identification badge for our rattie helpers, designating them ‘authorised to carry out sundry work and ministrations on my behalf. A small cartoonish rat wearing something resembling Crowley’s ‘getting up to mischief’ jacket sits in the bottom left corner, where it is also mentioned that the individual Rat may also carry out less virtuous deeds on his behalf.
November 12, 2024 at 10:41 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
You are still here. Shaken, but by no means alone. For now, the greatest act of rebellion is to help those up who have lost their footing. Gather your resolve. And help something better find the fertile soil needed to thrive.

I love you.
A page from GOOD OMENS: “He hid his trolley behind the newspaper stand, sat down furtively, and opened his lunchbox. It was then that he became aware of the rustling, and a movement of shadows across the floor. He looked around. The tree was moving. He watched it with interest. Jaime had never seen a tree growing before. The soil, which was nothing more than a scree of some sort of artificial chippings, was actually crawling as the roots moved around under the surface. Jaime saw a thin white shoot creep down the side of the raised garden area and prod blindly at the concrete of the floor. Without knowing why, without ever knowing why, he nudged it gently with his foot until it was close to the crack between the slabs. It found it, and bored down. The branches were twisting into different shapes. Jaime heard the screech of traffic outside the building, but didn't pay it any attention. Someone was yelling something, but someone was always yelling in Jaime's vicinity, often at him.”
November 7, 2024 at 1:24 AM
mrfell.bsky.social
Look at the difference… According to Adam, this place has ‘immaculate vibes’, which is apparently a good thing. But it’s all so /cramped/!
A visual comparison of the Twitters, which occupy the entire screen and allow one elbow-room, so to speak, and the Blue Sky thing, which is one narrow little strip of nonsense in a black void.
November 4, 2024 at 3:50 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
While there will be no Principality Challenge at this year’s Ineffable Con, you will still hear Crowley’s (and my) dulcet tones at some point over the weekend…

Hashytag: mysterious!
The accoutrements of an International Man(-shaped being) of Mystery. A Clue™️ in the shape of a copy of Mister Holly’s song, a glass of wine, a disguise (ace-reporter’s notebook and extremely jaunty hat), and a sketch of a Person of Interest.
October 20, 2023 at 12:50 PM
mrfell.bsky.social
Now that I have this thing, what am I supposed to do with it? Aren’t you going to find it tedious if I just say the same things as I do on the twitters?
A treat! Tea for two. Well, tea for two and wine for six, because someone has a /thirst/. A selection of cakes and a dark, perfumed rose for a very old romantic.
August 13, 2023 at 2:57 PM