Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret
In retrospect, Billy was certain that the big man would have flattened him.
He crept into his room, ignored the polite, friendly smiles of the children, who were slowly learning not to waste their time on him with such niceties, carrying a bag of cheap, greasy curry he loathed almost as much as the Africans. Baden was on TV. He watched a while, then drifted off into laptop land, and down into the internet rabbit-hole of race baiters and dull-witted thugs like Paul Golding and Jayda Fransen, his scary-eyed deputy. Football morons like Tommy Robinson, a young man who looked like he had a mouthful of wasps, and other favourite legions of half-witted wafflers, who, through the magic of Facebook
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