Walking the wife home from her weight-watchers class last night, I held her close as we went through a nasty-looking underpass system in the rough end of town. As we turned a corner, I locked eyes with a filthy тrамр eating someone’s discarded takeaway from a bin. “Look at that poor fuскеr, I’m glad I’m not him.” He probably thought.
Walking the wife home from her weight-watchers class last night, I held her close as we went through a nasty-looking underpass system in the rough end of town.
As we turned a corner, I locked eyes with a filthy тrамр eating someone’s discarded takeaway from a bin.
“Look at that poor fuскеr, I’m glad I’m not him.”
He probably thought.