Clued Up.

I saw my old chat buddy, James, from the library the other day. I haven’t seen him for several years and he told me he’d moved to a new house in Clay Cross. The house is a little removed from the main sprawl and he said he was in the garden one night at about midnight, enjoying a late cigarette, when he heard a noise in the undergrowth.

‘What do you think it was?’ he asked.

‘Bloody Greta Garbo?’ I offered, quick as a flash.

He got the joke, but it was only a badger.