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| Bleach of the Priest | |
| By Talisker | ||||||||||||||
| 24 January 2007 | ||||||||||||||
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"Go home and sleep it off", he said, the stout one, with the attitude. They'd come mob-handed, in a black maria. I had been drinking deeply, at the well of cheeky water. I looked him in the eye, no understanding there, an automaton. He was scrub-faced, like a newly born piglet, all rosy and unlined, untouched by life's realities. "Arrest me", I implored, offering my upturned wrists, for his derision. Too much paperwork, I presume. Had I poured Domestos, over Father Murphy, they still wouldn't lift me, for Bleach of the Priest. Oli 24/01/07
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