Chapter 3: Jo
Jez called in the morning.
“Get me away from my sodding girlfriend, or it’ll be my mugshot in the morning papers. And nobody wants to see that.”
“Tell him to f**k off,” Stephen mumbled from somewhere in the vicinity of Mike’s armpit. “Nobody buys a paper anymore anyway.”
“I heard that!” Jez shouted.
Mike flinched, jerking the phone away from his ear.
“Some of us were busy last night. Take your domestic somewhere else.”
“Mugshot! Paper! Help me.”
“Don’t want to see his mug at all,” said the lump in the pit. “Paper’s better.”
“Sorry, mate, no help here.”
A bang sounded downstairs.
“Not even for a bacon butty?”
“I swear to God,” Mike said, even as he heaved himself free and dumped the duvet back over Stephen, “that if you’ve just put your steel toe-cap through our fr
