Nobby Noble sits at his usual table in The Cosy Café. He’s sipping a mug of milky tea and he’s got a copy of today’s Sunday Times spread out across the table in front of him. He’s staring at the cryptic crossword like it’s a magic eye picture. He’s l*****g and biting his lips. Furrowing his brow, as if he’s deep in concentration. Not that Nobby understands the crossword clues, mind you. It’s all gibberish to him, for sure. He’s as thick as pig s**t, is Nobby. But he does have a mate who always texts him the answers to the crossword, so he can look clever to the café’s punters, who aren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the box either. His phone buzzes and he reads the message.
The Cosy CaféSunday TimesNobby smirks.
‘I think the answer to twenty-one down is Remembrance of Things Past,’ he s
