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Friday Night at Forty-Five

I’m dropping my wife at work. It’s 7 am, and drum and bass is blasting in my car.

Lonely man on computer
(Photo: Vlada Karpovich)

It’s too early for that shit, she says, turning off the stereo.

You know, for some people, it’s still nighttime, I reason. The young people, that is.

I realise it’s 7 am Friday morning, and that means —




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Frank T Bird

Frank T Bird

Former British citizen sent to Australia for crimes I didn’t commit. As yet unenlightened. Enquiries: No spam you fuckers.

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