The FOC thread.

S
tinned peaches? You were bloody lucky mate. We had sugar sarnies with stork marge (if we were good) and I sobbed myself to sleep in my shoe box in the coal shed.
Shoe box? You toffy nosed entitled, spoiled basrars. Coal shed? We had to burn old shoes we stole off drunk people.

I used to lie in that ditch, half filled with cholera infested dank freezing water and dream of a shoebox.

The good old days are as much a myth as 3 square meals a day were to me as a gutter urchin.
 

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