An unfashionable district in an dystopian city in a country which could neither be shaken, nor stirred
One of the smaller children - this one had two pairs of glasses and Holbienesque acne had begun to speak but had been interrupted by the guerrilla throwing him to the floor and standing on his face.
She waved a hand, depraved by arthritis. “I thought that Prithy was the most stultifyingly depressing little shitebag that had ever washed up on this beach but apparently I was wrong.
So shoot me you execrable little pissant, shoot me in my guts where it is going to hurt the most and do it now before I rip you apart with my fucking teeth.”
I decided, on balance , given that my cheekbone had been shattered and the word “Teflon” had been burnt in reverse onto my forehead, that I had better pop in to A and E.”