“Jemmy, who’s this bloody tart sitting in my chair?”
“That you, Danno?”
She was calling from the bedroom. Dan had come home high as usual. Having closed the door behind him after spending three minutes just getting the key in the lock, he was leaning back against it so he wouldn’t fall over.
“Yeah, Luv. I say though, who’s the bird sitting in my chair looking like she wants to cut off me neither bits?
“It’s a bloke.”
“Looks like a bird to me, giving off a sort of angry Grace Jones vibe. What, you bringing home transvestite hookers, now?”
Dan laughed frantically as if it were someone else who’d told the joke and he found it fantastically funny.