“Cor, that Belinda,” said Gary, taking off his trousers and wincing theatrically as he squeezed his scrotum. “She may have a fanny like the road...end of a traffic cone, but she bangs like a Glasgow shit-house door in a hurricane.” “I’ve noticed,” said Kevin, grinning despite himself at Gary’s colourful idiom, which seemed to be based largely on an encyclopaedic knowledge of “Roger’s Profanisaurus”. “You should have a go at Emma,” Gary went on, pulling up his black-and-white cow legs. “I reckon. "Up to you," I replied. "The driver is waiting, but the two Redcoats, the officers, are very dead." Oh my," she said, and turned to look at me. "You understand, my father has sold my maidenhead to him. What should I do?" He did what?" My virginity, it pushed up the price; he sold it to this man, this general, promised him I was untouched. He needed a lot of money, my father did." Hm," I said, "well, suppose you could not deliver what your father has sold?" Sir?" she said, looking squarely at. More

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