…until a smoke-free England. Huzzah!
One day our children will climb onto our knees and ask, “Daddy,” (for that is my name), “did you really have to wash your trousers after every trip to the pub?” Yes, we’ll tell them, those were hard days. I wore my knuckles to the bone on the dial of that Zanussi.
Persil must be bricking it. I hear they have their very best boffins working on new kinds of dirt as you read this.