His wife, Ash, was no great lay—not like that nurse at the hospital, fire crotch, a hot little minkie with flaming red pubic hair and a very uninhibited appetite.
[…] St. Bede's at this period of its history was perhaps the poorest and most miserable parish in the East End of London. Close-packed, crushed by the buttressed height of the railway viaduct, rendered airless by huge walls of factories, it at once banished lively interest from a stranger's mind and left only a dull oppression of the spirit.
I have always argued that it is one that deserves a thorough-going policy review, which might come to all sorts of conclusions, including it is doing what the Government of the day wants it to.
The Greek Anthology, in fact, not only demonstrates — without the shadow of a doubt — the continuity and vitality of paederotic poetry, but provides valuable information on the social rules governing this type of love, which included, in pride of place, the question of the suitable age: I delight in the prime of a boy of twelve, but one of thirteen is much more desirable.
