Gnomes: an excerpt
'She lived in a bungalow up Westgate. One of the ones right at the bottom that look like they’re flat pack, made from big concrete slabs that slot together. I remember she used to ride around everywhere on one of them old chopper bikes with a back on the seat and the right big handlebars. And she used always wear these men’s boxer shorts that were dead baggy and, like, one of them vest tops. I mean, all the time. Winter, summer, spring. And her garden, you shoulda seen it. The most gnomes you’ve ever seen in your life. You don’t see these gnome freaks much anymore but, at one point, every village and town had at least one person who had hundreds of the little fuckers on their garden. Course, the kids used to come and mess with them. Ya know, move them around and put them in rude positions. And, of course, she always knew EXACTLY where they shoulda been. I can see her now, running around, sorting them out with her chopper rested against the wall, poking the arse of her men’s boxers up in the air when she bent over. And, her hair. Such a wild white mop.'
