Jesus looking like a boy from the Hitler Youth on a stained glass window in a church on Ealing Broadway on a baking hot sunny d
you look good up there like a boy from the Hitler Youth like a colourful propaganda poster all healthy hardy men and buxom women with thickset arms and rosy cheeks singing in the fields
Our rose bushes have grown sullen. Holding watch. As you command. Command your world. Impressive. Extensive. Complex. Networks of railtracks, complete with Fat Controller.
She'd seen them in the town one Saturday, sitting outside Tesco, holding hands, laughing. They looked like they'd been drinking, like giddy teenagers landed from another planet.