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That style is replicated here in the first of a trilogy following cheeky snooker club owner Frankie James; with gangsters, police, family and murder. Not the biggest fan of snooker myself, I stayed listening cos the show is entertaining whatever they talk about. Good starter from Ronnie O'Sullivan, I admit was not big fan of the writting style but kept me reading. I found myself coming back to it and wanting to get through to the next chapter to see what was coming next. Well, his perceived innocence, he says he is, despite the mountain of evidence stacking up to the contrary.

Although it does flirt with it from time to time, the book on the whole avoids the nostalgic sentimentality that surrounds accounts of the Krays and the Richardsons, although its relationship with the underworld is complicated. Of course, with O’Sullivan being known as the greatest snooker player who’s ever lived, there are a couple of references to the game throughout. Maybe it's the my own minded romance of London gangs in the 90's that kept me hooked but if you want something a little different, or to get you thinking back a little with a good story then add this to your collection. METRO on RUNNING RUNNING is a chaotic race through O'Sullivan's life, but this does little to dethrone him as the people's champion - it simply adds further to his legend.

The James brothers are the sons of a now incarcerated East End gangster, very much of the old school, and the victim is the fiancée of the son of a rival gang leader.

He always swore to his mum he'd keep his younger, wilder brother out of trouble, but when Jack turns up at the club, covered in someone else's blood, and with the cops hard on his heels, Frankie has no choice but to enter the sordid world of bent coppers, ruthless mobsters and twisted killers he's tried all his life to avoid.Fairly functional crime thriller in which a young nightclub owner has to prove the innocence of his younger brother who has been accused of murder. There’s a particular scene where Frankie is trying to interrogate someone, Ronnie goes on to say that Jack, Frankie’s brother, had asked he question - impossible given where Jack is! Unlike the majority of first in series, there wasn't too much evidence of scene setting to be found.

There is everywhere the faint aura of vintage Partridge, nowhere more so than when Frankie visits a Greek thug who has mistreated his deceased mother's flat. The majority of this book hangs on the central mystery of what the hell actually happened, and indeed that was enough to keep me going from start to finish.

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There followed a momentary surge in interest regarding Bruce's oeuvre, and I became both a respected literary critic and a fabulously wealthy man, resplendent with high status and clothed only in the garb of kings. In its place you get a fairly straight-laced and accomplished airport page-turner, with a leaden plot and as few references to snooker as Ronnie's publishers could limit him to. And things are about to get a whole lot worse when Frankie’s brother Jack is accused of killing a bride-to-be.It lacks the grit of an early Martina novel but contains the characterisation and storylines that I feel Mandasue does so brilliantly with her true to life stories set in Manchester.

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