Here’s a taste:
“Come on in, Barry mate,” he says as I stick my head, all turtle like, round his door. Mate. Fuck’s sake. This can only mean bad news. Donald’s usually a grade A top class cunt of a cunt, and in all the time I’ve known him he only plays the nice guy before he’s about slide his metaphorical cock right into your arse. I grimace at my own choice of analogy as I drop my pre-shafting backside onto the chair opposite him, trepidation dancing across my mug like Michael fucking Flatley.