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NCFP Popular Author | Heaton Craig | Foundling! – The Early Life of a Remittance Man

Book 1: ‘Foundling! – The Early Life of a Remittance Man’ © by Heaton Craig
Book 2: ‘Foundling! – A Remittance Man’s Racy Road to Reform’ © by Heaton Craig


The story line contains passages of passion, pathos, paranormal experiences, erotica, theft, brutality, revenge and murder. In the initial stage of the book, and quite deliberately for the sake of reader empathy, the humour is scant. However, this intensifies abundantly as the tale progresses to the happiest of conclusions!

The action begins with a savage attack in a Cyprus discothèque. In his death throes, the victim’s life scrolls before him. It starts by depicting a bombing raid in the closing stages of the Second World War in Great Britain, when, as an abandoned baby, two lady ambulance service nurses find him under bombsite debris. The foundling’s subsequent adoption by one of the nurses, married to a wounded, returned British bomber pilot, beholden to his own severe father, is only reluctantly accepted, as both men are anxious to preserve the pure bloodline and impeccable public image of their wealthy shipping family.

The child’s kindergarten days no sooner start than the knuckle-rapping headmaster expires, as the result of a waspish little trick! Then the bestial family nanny is found with a broken neck, even before he is sent to a succession of private boarding schools, from which he either absconds, or is expelled, and wicked teachers succumb to seemingly inexplicable accidental deaths. He graphically recounts numerous and varied episodes of horrific boarding school brutality and is subjected to atrociously barbarous acts of corporal punishment and victimisation. The perpetrators underestimate his penchant for retaliation, and he commits various cunningly contrived acts of retribution upon his inquisitors, as he exacts the ultimate revenge. In a lighter and more humorous vein, his catalogue of classroom pranks is both prolific and bizarre!

This handsome boy is unaware that ‘Mother Nature’ has endowed him with an alluring pheromonal female attractant, which renders him almost irresistible to women! This results in his premature seduction and initiation by a young, sensuous, sex-starved army widow. Prior to even attending public school, her ‘tuition’ equips him, both physically and psychologically, for a further assortment of explicitly expounded sexual encounters and conquests. Throughout, all are entirely consensual; there is no rape or coercion.

A decree made by the grandfather, at the time of his adoption, precludes him from ever joining the family shipping business in England, but it is arranged that he be allowed to work on the wealthy family’s palatial motor yacht, based in Monte Carlo. In Mallorca, he foils the yacht captain’s deal in a Mafia gunrunning and money-laundering scam. Subsequently, he is sent to the company’s subsidiary office in Malta, where he hides his ill-gotten loot in his love-nest, a secret underwater grotto. He leaves hurriedly, and reprieved from a stint of grim reality, thence finds himself aboard a cargo ship, bound for the frozen Hudson Bay in Canada, where he has some harrowing escapes from a thwarted Eskimo and angry, bloodthirsty crew members.

On his return to England, he steals a large electric train and takes it on a joy ride, before demolishing it under hilarious circumstances. After a police chase, his arrest causes the illustrious family unbearable embarrassment, and his irate and exasperated father banishes him to New Zealand as a ‘remittance man’.

He arrives in New Zealand, penniless, to make his own way in life, and describes a variety of his social and working experiences in a humorous, yet occasionally sensitive, vein, incorporating the Antipodean vernacular in the conversational text where appropriate; all combined with a series of colloquially risqué anecdotes! After a short-lived marriage and fierce retaliation against his wife’s stuntman lover, he celebrates his divorce by vowing to bed the ugliest whore in the pub, before heading for Queensland, Australia.

After a Campervan trip through Europe to Greece, (only described briefly, as is material for next novel – ‘Campervan Capers’) he settles in Cyprus and starts a Scuba diving underwater photography business, catering for tourists. At this point, the retrospective vision he experiences in his near death situation takes on an amazing secondary dimension of * déjà vu. After emerging from unconsciousness, he decides to visit Romania with a cute, but naughty Moldavian nurse. In Bucharest, he receives a hint to the meaning of his vision. He travels on to England for his once rich, but now ruined, father’s funeral, but has a nagging compunction to return to Romania. The last clue to the puzzle presented by his vision lies in Romania, where he meets the ‘love of his life’. Determined to bury the past and renounce his wayward mode of life, he marries the *princess and brings her to New Zealand , with all intentions of living ‘happily ever after’…

Book 1: ‘Foundling! – The Early Life of a Remittance Man’ © by Heaton Craig
Book 2: ‘Foundling! – A Remittance Man’s Racy Road to Reform’ © by Heaton Craig


A shocking novel, revealing an adopted foundling’s mis-spent life! A ‘Blitz’ bombing raid – a baby is rescued. Later, subjected to horrendous boarding school brutality, he ‘accidentally’ kills teachers in revenge. A handsome, womanising misogynist, irresistible to girls, his outrageously anti-social activities cause unbearable embarrassment to his illustrious, ship-owning family, and he is banished to the Colonies as a ‘remittance man’. Hovering between life and death after a savage attack in a Mediterranean island discothèque, he experiences amazing ‘déjà vu’. Disillusionment with female relationship prospects prompts him to follow up on his retrospective vision in his quest for true love…

From The Book :-

Both my eyes filled up with blood, temporarily blinding me.


The bottle marked ‘Poison’ had part of its label torn off at an angle. I knew the word ‘arse’ was a vulgar word for one’s bum. I thought that, perhaps, when combined with ‘nice’, that it could be the brand name of some sort of liniment or embrocation he used on his bottom.


The next thing I knew, I was being bundled towards the ‘Flogging Horse’ and heaved over it, laying face down on my stomach. My wrists were individually cinched up tightly against the front legs of the ‘Horse’, and my feet were held fast by a wooden board being placed in position behind the calves of my legs. Meanwhile, a leather strap was fastened across the small of my back in the manner of a horse’s girth-strap. This strap was slotted through a thick, flat, square-shaped piece of leather, which was intended to protect the lower spine and coccyx; the small triangular bone ending the spinal column. In the event of a mis-hit, the blow from a heavy cane could cause permanent paralysis. Perhaps, this had actually happened as a result of this barbarous punishment in the dark and obscure annals of ‘Granitestone College’ history.


The Eskimo girl shrieked and, as I dashed out of the shack, I saw her father grab a fearsome-looking harpoon from a wall-rack. I glanced back to see him chasing after me, yelling blood-curdling threats and brandishing the harpoon. I sprinted for all I was worth, expecting at any second to feel the point of the harpoon pierce me between the shoulder blades.


“Well, I think we should all raise our glasses and drink a toast to having just pulled off the second greatest ‘Great Train Robbery’ in the history of this country! – Cheers!” I pronounced, proposing the momentous toast and nudging Baddle in the ribs.


‘How could two such enormous, yet perfectly proportioned breasts stand up to defy the ‘Law of Gravity’ like that? It had to be the eighth wonder of the world, as far as I was concerned – probably an original seventh, because I’m reasonably certain that the ‘Hanging Whatsits of Babylon’ would have sagged in comparison!’


There didn’t seem to be any future in staying around to count all the bits and pieces, and there was certainly nothing worth salvaging.

‘My God!’ I thought. ‘I’ve rooted his daughter – and now… I’ve gone and rooted his f …ing tractor, as well!’


I suppose the ghastly creature must have got tangled up in his ‘short and curlies’ and started struggling and biting and carrying on. The next thing was that Father Christmas tried to pull his gown off, and then it got stuck over his head, so he couldn’t shift it either way. Then, he went raging and charging out of his grotto, ‘full-on’, knocking everything over like a row of shit-cans!


All at once, the ground started to shake violently! The tall white marble statues standing on columns set around the perimeter of the garden collapsed and came crashing down, crumbling into fragments. I knew I must try to save the princess as the sky darkened and rocks and stones and red-hot volcanic ash rained from the stratosphere. I called out to the princess, and struggled and clawed in vain at the invisible yet impenetrable barricade that impeded me, like a thick plate-glass panel. The princess turned her face upward and towards me. Her face was the most serene and beautiful I had ever laid eyes on. She looked at me appealingly, her aristocratic lips mouthing words that I could neither hear nor decipher. As she stretched out her arms to me, the whole scene was engulfed in a river of molten lava – and then all was consumed in absolute darkness… Even as I awoke from unconsciousness in that hospital bed, I knew I had witnessed the volcanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius, and the destruction of a section of the ancient Roman city of Pompeii, on that apocalyptic day of August 24th, 79 AD!


The merry Yuletide festivities yielded numerous invitations to parties, where I met a variety of females of varying ages, backgrounds and occupations. I came to the conclusion that it was really I who was unsuitable to even consider trying to pursue a relationship with any of their ilk. They were all seeking the ‘perfect man’, who should be an achiever, computer literate and, preferably, to have undergone vasectomy.


About The Author :- Heaton Craig, born in Great Britain, has lived abroad for much of his life and travelled extensively. He has drawn on his experiences to defy contemporary literary norms and categories with a brand new subject; combining risqué humour, explicit erotica, pathos, paranormal experiences, theft, revenge, violence and murder; all set in a variety of locations, world-wide.


What is a ‘Remittance Man’?

A ‘Remittance Man’ is just one of society’s misfits and rejects. A young man who brought shame and embarrassment on his family by committing outrageously anti-social activities was often subsequently banished to the Colonies. For instance: In the 1950’s, if a British family was intolerant of their ‘gay’ son, Kyrenia was very liable to have been his destination in exile!

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