My then teenage son would come home from gyms around Newport with tales of 'roiders – both rugby players and boys getting ripped to look good.

Speak loudly, because Grandpa is somewhat hard of hearing.

The lamp of day is quench’d beneath the deep, And soft approach the balmy hours of sleep: Nor fits it to prolong the heav’nly feast Timeless, indecent, but retire to rest.

And if they had knives too, their gang had all knives and people were going to get chibbed.