he managed to control his shaking hands by gripping the arms of the chair.
what was going on now? a rare moment of absolute lucidity gripped him like a downs giving a wank. all the people were speaking strangely, he couldn't understand a word! a trickle of ice cold fear slithered down his back as the people around the table traded mangled words back and forth. had he finally lost his mind? was his wife right, was he working too hard? then it hit him, he was in poland, they were speaking their native tongue. battered smiled and relaxed, his legs shaking only slightly as he counted down the moments until lunch, and the bottle of scotch awaiting him.
( mark morrisons prison shoes I love Willie, Mon 22 Oct 2012, 11:24, 1 reply, 12 years ago)

I dont like Scotch

( sporters I’m sincerely gratitude to you, Mon 22 Oct 2012, 11:25, Reply)

smashing. that story was about battered.

( mark morrisons prison shoes I love Willie, Mon 22 Oct 2012, 11:26, Reply)

But I dont like Scotch

( sporters I’m sincerely gratitude to you, Mon 22 Oct 2012, 11:27, Reply)

Thanks. xx

( Fucking hell Jeff I am not a robot, Mon 22 Oct 2012, 11:30, Reply)