Latest Issue

Preserved in amber

Elections and peace talks come and go. But the ancient grievances of west Belfast go on for ever

By prospect   July 1996

It was an autumn morning, a Monday… When he got to his desk, Hans found a message from his boss, Mr Helms. It read, I want to talk to you. Hans went up to the fifth floor, made his way down the carpeted corridor under the humming lights, and stepped through the pale oak door into Mr Helms’ outer office where his secretary, Kitty, sat.

Hans went through another pale oak door and found himself in the inner office.

Mr Helms was sitting behind his very large black desk reading a telex. The walls were covered with framed diplomas. These…

Register today to continue reading

You’ve hit your limit of three articles in the last 30 days. To get seven more, simply enter your email address below.

You’ll also receive our free e-book Prospect’s Top Thinkers 2020 and our newsletter with the best new writing on politics, economics, literature and the arts.

Prospect may process your personal information for our legitimate business purposes, to provide you with newsletters, subscription offers and other relevant information.

Click here to learn more about these purposes and how we use your data. You will be able to opt-out of further contact on the next page and in all our communications.

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to

More From Prospect