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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Cultural · #2349936

The words and opinions expressed by the characters do not reflect those of the author.

"Everyone thinks of changing the world,
but no one thinks of changing himself."


"Get off your fat ass an' get down the job centre," Marlene shouted through the kitchen door, "An' 'ave a wash first, I can smell you from 'ere."

Del squirmed in his seat in the battered old armchair. "What's the bleedin' point? They give all the jobs to the fuckin' foreigners. Get me another beer." He threw his empty into the pile beside the chair.

"You've drunk 'em all."

"Well, go to the shop an' get more."

"What with, buttons? Why d'you think I want you to go sign on?" With that the lights went out. "Oh great! Now we got no leccy." Marlene threw the dirty tea towel at him. "Go do your job. Sign on the dotted line and get us some dough."

"Why don't you do it?"

"'Cos I'm blacklisted. I turned down too many jobs just so I can look after you."

Del struggled to his feet. "Okay, okay, I'm goin'. I blame all those bleedin' boat people."

Marlene looked at the pile of empty cans. "Yeah, they're the reason we got no money."
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