Blind boys grope out of huge pies, deteriorated schizophrenics pop from a rubber cunt, boys with horrible skin diseases rise from a black pond (sluggish fish nibble yellow turds on the surface).

Dad has great big welly boots. For squishing in the mud; Two great big black welly boots: Thud, thud, thud.

Bridge the digital divide. Let the poor get across.

“What's the matter?” she asked quickly. “Haven't we had all the things before? Soup, chops, peas, French fries, and the fruit pudding–there wasn't a thing new.”