As I approached Big Mother, I noticed that she was dipping a hand in one of her coat pockets and taking out breadcrumbs to feed the pigeons that swarmed around her. I shook my head, and it only hurt a little.
‘You really shouldn’t encourage them, you know? They’re just b****y rats with b****y wings,’ I said. ‘Disgusting, dirty creatures.’
‘Rats are survivors, sweetie,’ said Big Mother. ‘As are you and I. Anyway, it’s survival of the fittest in this world, as you are well aware.’
I shrugged.
‘Or survival of the fattest in your case,’ she said, patting my stomach.
I smiled.
‘Yes, well, I am living off the fat of the land at the moment, so to speak. I’ve been scoffing down takeaways and microwave meals for the most part.’
Big Mother grimaced.
‘You’ve never been much of an Anthony Bour
