I’d been brought up to sneer at them, principally because they weren’t slumming it in a council house like the rest of us. I’d asked Dad about t...em a few times, but all he’d say was that Mr Parslow was a posh twat who sat on the parish council. Mum added that his wife was a snotty cow who organised the village fete every year. ‘Bossy bitch, too.’ ‘Tossers,’ Dad agreed, and lit another cigarette. It wasn’t much of a critique. Dad sneered at anyone who had more money than we did. Unless they. It was a definite attention grabber. He changed back into the dress he'd been wearing earlier, andwhen he came out of the dressing room Betty asked him if he wasn'tforgetting something. "Betty, I want to thank you for the beautiful dress. I just loveit." "I never gave you the right to call me Betty. You will call meloving mistress from now on. Now, thank me properly. "Loving mistress, thank you for the dress." "You can do better than that. Now do it and mean it!" "Loving mistress, Thank. More

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