The Postmaster General

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Some people live quiet lives. Some people live dangerous ones. Ian Taylor lives both. On paper - and there is a lot of paper - Ian is a mid-level marketing manager at the Post Office. He's the kind of man whose lunches come in clingfilm, whose socks never quite match, and who once confused an oat milk latte with industrial cleaner (and yet drank it anyway). He has a large, mostly obedient dog named Tolstoy, a wife who has mastered the art of disappointed silence, and a deep commitment to eating crisps in situations where crisps should not be eaten. His children are smart, well-educated, and slightly baffled by the man who raised them while smelling faintly of gravy and surgical spirit. He forgets birthdays. He forgets bin day. He forgets to shower. But he never forgets to check the locks. Or scan a room. Or listen when no one's speaking. Behind the flecks of gravy on his jumper, behind the lingering smell of bin juice, lies something else entirely: This is a tale about a man who seems harmless... until you look a little closer. Welcome to his world. The tea's on. The dog's armed. Proceed with caution!