CHAPTER FOURTEEN“Aw man!” said Laroche plaintively. “Alright then. Teach me something useful. None of that the cat sat on the mat crap. Teach me to write I’ll punch your f*****g lights in. That’d be cool. And t**t and wanker and perhaps Wotch you looking at? Or how about Woss your problem, dickhead? You could teach me to write dickhead. That’d be sweet. An’ tosser.”
“How about bellend?” asked Michael dryly.
“Yeah, that an’ all. Pillock, bollocks, knobber. Yer getting me interested now.”
Michael drew up a list of the foulest language he could think of and added every conceivable insult under the sun, some of them Shakespearean, for good measure. That covered most of the letters of the alphabet.
“I’ll write something down, we’ll read it together, then you copy it out afterwards.”
Laroch
