The Smuggler

Published in Courier Countryside Column  15 February 2013

Notwithstanding recent comments about firearms, I bought a gun the other day.  It’s unlikely to hurt anyone though, being an imitation 18^th century flintlock.  Nevertheless it looks quite authentic especially with the sword I got in a Hastings junkshop and the Tricorn hat and costume I bought on eBay.

I’d never have thought a year or so ago that I’d be making a prat of myself touring country pubs and National Trust tea rooms telling tales of long dead smugglers.

However, having shelled out a few hundred quid to self-publish the life of local rogue Gabriel Tomkins, I badly needed to flog some copies to defray my costs. 

The book signing on a wet afternoon in Tunbridge Wells was not a notable success.  The few bookshops that stock copies hardly report a rush of sales.  Marketing directly through Amazon brings in a trickle of interest, but I soon discovered the best way to unload surplus stock was to ensure people were sufficiently inebriated to not notice they’d shelled out a fiver for something they probably didn’t want in the first place.

So when my friend Paul, who’s a bit of an expert on the 1747 Battle of Goudhurst, suggested we try telling tales of smuggling at pub suppers, I thought why not?

And it’s proved great fun – for us anyway!  About once a month we head off to a hostelry in a village somewhere in rural Kent or Sussex. There we set up our props and prop up the bar while the punters dine. Afterwards we regale them with tales of ‘runs’ up from the coast with barrels of brandy and parcels of tea, and of fights with revenue officers, and of course the Goudhurst ‘battle’ where the local militia defended the town and killed three of the infamous Hawkhurst Gang.

My man Tomkins rode with the gang after he’d been thrown out of the customs service for double-dealing.  And that was after he’d been transported for leading the Mayfield mob.  But ironically it wasn’t smuggling that led him to the gallows in 1750 – it was highway robbery.  Well I suppose a rogue is a rogue whatever his shade.

I think we’ve got another gig in a few weeks actually in Goudhurst to mark the anniversary of the village’s most famous event. So I’d better dust off the costume, prime the flintlock and sharpen the sword...