‘Please?’ Sparks turns his back, gives her the hard shoulder…or is that only on motorways? Fucked if he knows. Shouldn’t be parking on the hard shoulder: no, no, no. Dangerous. Saw this bloke on that CCTV camera show getting his piece of shit Mondeo squashed by an eighteen-wheeler. Fuck kind of car is called ‘Mondeo’ anyway? What: some marketing cunt couldn’t come up with a better name than— ‘Sparks? Come on, it’s fuckin’ freezin’ out here.’ Big Eleanor’s right for a change – it is fucking freezing. Big bastard flakes of snow, coming down like…dandruff or something. She sidles up, gives him a smile with that bullet-hole mouth of hers. ‘Give us a cuddle…’ She snakes her arms around him, big chunky things, like a fucking anaconda. ‘Ooh, you’re all warm.’ She lays a padded cheek against his neck, a cold pillow of flesh, nuzzling in deeper. Sparks is always warm, got one of them internal thermostat things, like central heating, always up full crank.
