The latter noise vanished. Tabitha's eyes screamed open. Her feet jumped onto the desk from where they had hung. She pounded her hands against the car...et, lifting herself into a bridge. Higher and higher she silently wrenched her self before crumpling into a pile in front of the desk. I dove forward, catching her skull before it smashed the ground. As her head lay in my lap I could feel spasms rocking her. Her shallow pants were barely audible, and her red face now tinged purple. “Ahhhhh,”. She disliked me attending football matches, especially with Baz Butcher, who she met once and dismissed as 'a barrow boy spiv'. I informed her, in no uncertain terms, I was from the lower classes, and going to football matches was an important part of my heritage – all bollocks of course — but like most intellectuals she regarded cultural traditions as sacrosanct, and in time came to regard me and my mates attending football games in the same vein as Plebes attending chariot races in Ancient. More

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