IT WAS another Saturday morning. The side door closed and Mum was off to town as the theme tune of Julia struck up. I sat shelling peas in front of the telly.
“Can’t I be in your club,Earl .J. Wagadorn?” Corey Baker beseeched. “I’m your best friend.”
A small white worm wiggled about in a pod. I picked it up and fired it through the window.