remembering insults (3)

Also, at what must have been twelve or thereabouts I yelled "go fuck your nanny!" to an older arsehole named Robin, who lived in a house with his fucking enormous parents and grandmother at the end of the street (a different street to the foreskin scenario).

In fact, many of my interactions with Robin were memorable, the stuff of personal legend.

In homage to the eponymous bird of vibrant plumage, and noting Robin's leanings towards the fat end of average, I commonly referred to him as Robin Big Breasts, although likely only did so in my imagination. He was close friends with a leather-lipped fucker whose name I have thankfully forgotten, a cruel little tanned weasel with an undercut and a bomber jacket.