But you couldn't complain. One time, I'm eating this cabbage and it tastes like soap. Jean sees the look on my face, so she jabs me in the ribs and goes, 'Don't say a word.' But I'm sick to my guts and I don't want to die from fucking cabbage poisoning. I'm just about to say something when my dad gets back from the pub, hangs up his coat, and sits down in front of his dinner. He picks up his fork, stabs it down into the cabbage, and when he lifts it up to his mouth there's this lump of tangled wire on the end of it! God bless my old mum, she'd boiled a Brillo pad!
Sist sett
