I fished in the deep pouch pocket of my Walking-out uniform jacket and produced another bottle of gin, some horrible no name blended stuff that claime... to be Plymouth Gin – the stuff that burns the lining of your guts, and is probably closer to aviation fuel than the stuff you buy today. She grabbed it from me, opened the bottle and took a swig. She wrinkled her nose. ‘Ugh ish shimply frightful – do people really drink thish?’ I guided her into the park, near Piccadilly the grass was a heaving. "Hi. Is everything going okay?" he heard from one voice, coming down thehall."Do you need any help?" came another."No. I'm okay," he replied. "It's just that...well, these are girlsclothes." Oh yeah. Sorry about that," the first voice replied.The second added, "It's the plainest thing we have to offer. It's reallynot that bad. Don't worry. We won't make fun of you."He continued, "It's just that...I've never worn girls underwear before.What happened to my clothes?" Oh. We decided that if you. More

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