The other day,
I went to bennetts bookshop, the one next to irks.
There were at least three customers, and one staff member, singing along to the ‘music to buy books to’.
Recoiling in horror I stumbled up the stairs into what I thought was notepaper etc but it was kirks on sale with bints and baggages in blue rinses and the eyes of a judas chicken.
More jowls than a pork meat inspection convention.