20 years ago, if I ever needed to keep the old in and out going that little bit longer with Mrs H (who was most fit in those days), I would always picture the ugliest, dirtiest whore I could think of, which worked every time, and it was that 'Emperor's New Clothes' art bint.
Ever reliable Neil. I passed our local Pureblood t-shirted fanatic the other day on Murray Street, he was dishing out Chemtrail leaflets and bellowing through his megaphone that the mRNA in the vaccines and microplastics in our testicles were a secret plot to feminise us all. I was so discombobulated by the experience that I bought the wrong shade of lipstick.
Lovin’ your work.