They do, you know. “Hey, Mr Beard,” they’ll say, gaily demanding that I fetch their still-fluffy underage lungs some fags from the corner shop. “Oh go on,” they say, trapped in their dilapidated schoolyard until the scandalous hour of 3pm. “No,” I say. But today, a disturbing development. “Ha ha,” one of the lovable ruffians Continue reading →
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