An everyday story of concrete folk: Nine

The biggers were arguing about caravans. It was four to one for a hugely expensive silver bullet.
In the end Big gave in.
“Okay, okay. Have your style statement. But it means I have to change the car for something with enough bollocks to tow it.”
Mother was sceptical. “Are you sure?”
He put a hairy forefinger on a line of print in the brochure.
“Yep. Says so there.”
The gnomes listened avidly. Was Big actually going to win a point?
Mother sighed. “Okay. But no Range Rover.”
“As if I would.”
Brenda winced. “He’s up to summat. You’ll see…”

©️jj 2021

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